Page 41 of Hypothetical Heart
“Yeah, I haven’t been in the rain like that since—“ he pauses abruptly, and it sends a cold chill through my body.
We both knew what he was going to say. The night three years ago, when Logan stood out in the pouring rain after I went on a date and confessed his feelings for me.
“It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it.” Because we already have. And do we really want to bring that up now?
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” Logan says, running his hands through his hair before starting the car. “I just don’t think it’s a conversation we need to have yet.” I want to ask why, but I know he’d likely say something I don’t want to hear.
Talking about that night—and the couple of days following—is not like turning a nightlight on. It’s the big overhead light shining down on my heart and leaving it completely visible to him.
“Tonight was a good night. Let’s leave it at that,” I say. It’s a good happy medium of showing him my heart, like turning on a lamp.
It’s not something either of us like, having to tip-toe around each other, afraid of messing something up for the second time.
Because the first time it ended badly, we left room for a second chance. But if we press the gas and mess this up the second time, then what?What happens when you fuck up a second chance?
I don’t want to find out.
“Sounds good,” he agrees, pulling onto the road. “I think when we get back to your house, you should let me pick out a new book.”
“Okay,” I agree easily. He made it clear at dinner that he’s not out to make fun of me, so if he really wants to read another one of my books, then I think he’s earned it.
“Really? That easy?”
I shrug. “You’ve proven yourself. Although, if you returnany of my books in less than pristine condition, you owe me a shopping spree in Meet in the Margins.”
“I’ll take you anyway,” he says casually, causing my cheeks to flame right as he looks over. “Seriously? That’s what makes you flustered? A guy buying books for you?”
It’s not just the idea of any guy buying me books. It’s the fact that it’s Logan offering. “I’m not flustered, just shocked.”
“Anything I do to make you happy shouldn’t come as a shock anymore,” he replies.
My brain is running a million miles an hour trying to come up with something to say, but after a few minutes, I decide it’s better to say nothing.
“Win, this doesn’t have to be awkward,” Logan says, breaking me from my thoughts.
“It’s not awkward.” It’s what I like to tell myself.
“Then why is your leg bouncing? Why can’t you look at me?”Probably because I’m so damn nervous around you. I can barely think straight.
“I—” words fail me. “I don’t know.”
“Winnie, we’re fine. I promise.” He takes one hand off the steering wheel, reaching out to grab my hand. “Nothing has changed.”
I try to expel something resembling a sigh of relief from my lungs, but it’s nearly impossible. “I’m glad you think so.”
“I know so,” he says with so much conviction. “So what if the path we take is different as long as it leads us down the right road in the end?”
His words hit me with an impact of a thousand bricks. We’ve spent so much time trying to figure out how this should go—how it will be possible for the two of us to end up together—when the only thing we need to know is that if it’s meant to happen, it’s going to happen.
Nothing forced is ever good. We learned that the hard way. So maybe this time, we need to just sit back and let time be the true test.
“You’re right,” is all I say.
Logan continues driving, winding roads taking us back to the place we’ve belonged for so long.
With each other.
13
