Page 60 of The Things That Hold Us

Logan goes and grabs his truck, pulling it to the front of the shop.

I watch as he puts it in park. It’s an old Ford, and looks like it's been completely restored.

I smile to myself when I notice it’s a pretty brown color.

After we get things loaded, he opens the passenger door for me.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to your place and unload these for you.”

“Thank you.” I tell him, hopping up into his truck.

The scent of him floods my nostrils and soothes my nerves. He climbs in next to me on the bench seat, and for the first time today, I feel my soul relax.

Chapter Eleven

Sam

We work together, and unload all of the boxes and bags into my apartment. There's not much, but it’s something.

“I’ll go back tomorrow and see what’s left.” Logan says.

“I’ll come with you. I don’t want to make you do it all by yourself.”

He looks down at his shoes, restlessly, and like everytime I’m with him, I wish I knew what he was thinking.

Fuck it.

“What are you thinking right now?” I ask him, holding a breath.

His eyes meet mine, then my lips, but he just shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.

“I just wish there was more I could do,” he says.

I swallow the lump in my throat, “It isn't your responsibility to have to do more.” I whisper.

Logan lets out a breath, but doesnt say anything. He just stands in my doorway, fidgeting with his hands.

Something is bothering him, I can tell.

“What is it?” I asked him.

Finally, he looks back at me, “Hearing what you went through, and then seeing your last physical shred of him, it just..it got me thinking.” His voice is so quiet.

“I lost my best friend while we were deployed. His wife and his mom didn't want to let go of any of his personal belongings, except his dog tags.” his hands instinctively reach for the chain around his neck, flipping the tags between his fingers.

“That loss gutted me. Witnessing that gutted me.” He pauses. “It’s hard watching something you love disappear.”

I wait, letting him take his time. Letting his words absorb. There's no telling what he witnessed out there, but I can bet witnessing his best friend die is extremely traumatizing.

“How did you cope with that?” I ask. “With seeing..that.”

He blows out a shaky breath, then sits up a little straighter, as if he’s trying to avoid getting emotional.

“I go to meetings once a week. It's usually required after that, and being discharged. They gave me the option, and I took it. I watched my father battle with ptsd, and he lost that battle. I didn't want to become him.”

“I’m sorry, Logan. That’s..terrible. I’m sorry.” I whisper, then add, “I’m proud of you. For taking precautions, and working on healing the trauma from everything. I know that can’t be easy.”

“It wasn't, at first. I was angry, and in denial about needing help, but after the first couple meetings, it became easier, and I actually look forward to going to them now.”

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