Page 85 of Somewhere Without You
“I meant it, Emily,”he said quickly.“I wasn’t lying.”
“No?”I scoffed, the words catching in my throat.“You just forgot to mention that you’re married, right? Or that your wife happened to be Madeline? Was that a lie too, or did it justconvenientlyslip your mind?”
Anger rose in my chest. I took another sip of coffee, trying to force it back down.
Logan’s eyes fell to the floor.“Madeline and I are separated. We split three months ago. She’s a psychiatrist up in Boston and wanted me to move there, to follow her. But I couldn’t. I thought she understood. Shesaidshe did. We’d been living apart when she suddenly showed up here—right after you did, claiming she wanted to give it one last try.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for me to reply. When I didn’t, he continued.“I’ll be honest, I thought about it. I felt like I owed her. . . out of habit maybe, or guilt. But the truth is, our marriage had been over for a long time.”
Part of me wanted to believe him. The same part that had clung to every kind thing he’d ever said, every time he made me feel seen, safe. But there was another part that reminded me I’d been here before—that trusting the wrong man had already cost me too much.
“Where were you when you disappeared that week?”I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying, and what was the truth.“Were you with her?”
Logan hesitated. Then, slowly, shamefully, he nodded.
“I can’t fucking believe this,”I breathed, setting the cup down a little too hard.
“Please, Emily,”he begged.“It’s over between us. I swear. My lawyer’s already drawn up the papers—”
“Is that what Clarksburg was?”I cut in, suddenly queasy.“Did you drag me out there unknowingly so that you could divorce your wife?”
His eyes dropped to the floor again.
“Are you serious, Logan? What the fuck?”
The room tilted slightly, narrowing at the edges. I grabbed the back of the kitchen chair and sat, afraid my knees might give out. There was too much happening inside me—grief, rage betrayal.
Heartbreak.
How could I have been so fucking blind? How could I have been so stupid?
“And Abernathy’s?”I managed.“The way she looked at you, the way she cozied up to you. . . it didn’t look like you two were on the brink of divorce.” I flinched at the image of them together, her arm curled around him like some prized possession. “If you two are supposedly over, then why were you there with her in the first place?”
Logan ran a hand through his hair.“I told her I’d fix a few things around the house before we listed it. That’s it.”
“Before or after you went to lunch with her family?”I asked.“Was that just your way of saying goodbye, or were you letting her down gently over sandwiches and sweet tea?”
He looked up at me then, tired.“Her mom works in real estate now. She’s helping us sell the house.”
I laughed.“How convenient.”
I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Too many things had happened. Too many things had changed, and I was still too broken to allow myself to risk being shattered again.
I stared at the table, willing myself not to cry. Not in front of him. Not when everything I’d felt for him was now tangled in doubt.
“You should’ve told me,”I said, my voice quieter now, not out of forgiveness but fatigue.“You should’ve told me from the start, Logan. You had so many chances.”
Logan took a small step forward, then thought better of it.“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you?”I hated the way my voice sounded—hurt, not angry.“Why let me fall for something you knew was already tainted with lies?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, motionless, like he wasn’t sure if reaching for me would make things better or worse.
“I was scared,”he said at last. “Scared of screwing it up—of ruining the second chance I’d begged for. You have no idea how much I wanted this with you. How many promises I made to whoever might be listening, swearing I’d give up everything if I could just have one more shot. I kept waiting for the right moment to tell you. But then the rock, the car. . . everything you went through with that bastard. I didn’t want to risk hurting you more.”
His words pierced something in me I didn’t want touched. Because I knew that feeling—that desperate grip on something good, even when it’s built on shaky ground.
And still, it wasn’t enough.
