Page 14 of Until You Found Me

Pounding at the door signals someone else needs to use the bathroom and she’s evicted from the only place she can be alone and back to her shared bedroom. She wraps the cardigan they gave her tighter around her body while sitting up against the pillows in bed, wishing for nothing more than to see Logan again.

The clock reads five am. There’s no chance she can go back to sleep now. He said he’d be here first thing for breakfast and she wonders if first thing means six am or ten. The earlier the better, far as she’s concerned. She’s grateful for a place to stay and the kindness of the women here, but the constant noise makes it hard to sleep and there’s not a moment’s privacy. Everything is easier when she’s with Logan. It’s wrong toallow herself to become attached, but he’s the one person who feels safe. In the wake of her first real memory of the man who tried to kill her,and she is certain it was him, all she wants is to be with the one who saved her life.

Logan will be here soon and she can forget for a little while that she has to come back here or that her next dreams may be worse.

Six am passes quickly. Too early, she assumes. He’s probably still sleeping like any normal person would be.

Seven am comes and goes and the rest of the house begins to wake up. The hustle and bustle of feeding children and fighting for resources is a constant background hum.

When the clock strikes eight, she stands by the window with a clear view of the street. He’ll pull up any second. He promised. She refuses breakfast because she’ll be eating elsewhere soon enough.

“He’s not coming, girl.” One of the others tells her. “And you should be glad for that after what he did to you. The whole point of coming here isn’t to go running back.”

“It wasn’t him. He wasn’t the one who hurt me,” she replies, still peering out the blinds. “And he’s coming. He said he would.”

“Men say a lotta bullshit.”

She hasn’t told anyone here what happened to her and there seems to be an unwritten rule that asking is frowned upon. She can’t blame them for assuming the worst about Logan, not after what they’ve all been through.

“Something must have happened.” She paces the room at nine thirty am, worried that he’s been in a car accident or worse.

“Or he’s like all the rest of them.” Someone else pipes up. “Forget that fucker and move on. You need to be worried about how you get outta here for good. What you’re gonna do with the rest of your life.”

Her life. Her life is in shambles, nothing but a cluster of broken pieces she can’t fit together into a cohesive puzzle. How is she supposed to make something new out of any of this?

“He said he’d come back,” she whispers, fingering open the window blinds. “He’s coming back.”

It’s not until ten am that she begins to worry that they’re right. He saved her life and brought her to a place that can feed and house her. His work here is done. It wouldn’t make him a bad person to walk away, it would only make him practical. Her time with him is the only thing she has to look forward to, though, and she isn’t prepared for how bleak everything looks without him.

It’s okay if he’s moved on, she tells herself. She can do this alone. She’ll have to.

One of the other women brings her a cup of tea, squeezes her shoulder, and tells her they’re playing cards after lunch if she wants to join. She agrees. Won’t sit here and wallow despite feeling as lost today as she did when she stood on that road hoping to flag down a car. It’s then that the roar of an engine outside catches her attention and Logan’s truck pulls into the driveway. Her heart beats fast against her ribs in a sudden rush of excitement.

“Are you really gonna let him pull up hours late like nothing happened?” Someone asks while she’s rushing to pull on a coat.

“It doesn’t matter.” She smiles. “He came back. I don’t care if he’s late.”

Tessa runs down the steps and out the door, ignoring their disapproval and letting the sight of him soothe her. She must look every bit the eager school girl going on her first date, but she leans into the relief of seeing him, anyway.

“I’m sorry I’m so late. I didn’t mean to be, I swear. I came as soon as I could.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” She takes in his glazed-over eyes, dilated pupils, and how pale he is like that first time she saw him. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Low blood sugar, that’s all. Sorta passed out for a while, but I’m good now.”

Her eyes widen. “You passed out? Do you need to go to the clinic? Did you hit your head going down? We should get you checked out—”

“It happens sometimes. I have diabetes, I was born with it. Forgot to eat last night and woke up dizzy, but it’s not something I need to see the doc for. Are you ready to go? Food truck serves breakfast all day.”

He delivered every word of that explanation matter-of-factly, like none of it matters. Already walking back to the truck to avoid her questions so she curbs the urge to fuss and follows him, swallowing her worry so she doesn’t make him uncomfortable, but fuck, she is worried.

“Really am sorry about being late,” he tells her again.

She smiles. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here now and that you’re feeling better.”

Guilt radiates off him like he committed a mortal sin by making her wait. It’s a mirror of her own regret for assuming he wouldn’t show at all.

Tessa puts her nightmare aside as best she can and tries to focus on enjoying her time away from the shelter. Despitepassing out this morning he still made an effort to see her, disheveled and pale, as if she’s important enough for that. For a moment, it feels like she could be.

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