Page 103 of Meet Me in the Valley
I narrow my eyes. He doesn’t bother hiding the irritation in his tone. I’ve been on the receiving end of that look more times than I can count. So I do the only thing I can think of to make him understand.
I move around him and find another unassembled box on the floor. Without saying a word, I fold it into shape, tape tearing through the air as I seal it shut—quick, efficient, just like he did.
When I glance up, amusement flickers in his expression. He crosses his arms and leans back, watching me closely, waiting for whatever stunt I’m about to pull.
I grab the Sharpie, write fast, then slide the box to his feet with just enough force to make it land with a soft thud.
YOUR MOM.
Big and bold.
Barking out an incredulous laugh, he shakes his head, looking down at the box like it’s about to grow legs and run off. I can tell by his face it’s probably what he wants to happen, but I won’t let it.
“This is fucking stupid, Tia.”
“Were you not involved in that conversation that day at Nora’s? Or are we just never going to talk about that?”
“I said everything I needed to say to her in Vegas,” he snaps back.
Logan stays quiet. Stoic. The same pattern of avoidance is exactly the reason we’re not ready for something more.
But Logan and I have always been good at one thing. The thing that ultimately brought us together.
Escaping.
Docks, airplanes, each other’s bodies—we are experts at the great escape. And we can’t do that anymore. Not after everything.
“Quit avoiding her. Don’t you see how she’s affected you your entire life? Don’t you think it’s time for you to face it and find peace with it?”
“Like you and Nora have found peace? Better yet, here.” Logan swipes the marker from the coffee table, kneeling over the box I made and scratching out“MOM.”In its place, I watch himwrite“SISTER.”He tosses the marker aside, lifting his eyebrow at me in challenge.
I say nothing. Eyes shimmering with tears, I quickly wipe them away with my wrist as I keep my watery gaze on Logan. We’re so close, yet so disconnected from each other, both of us scrambling to find some sort of steady ground in this new version of us.
I release a long exhale, moving the boxes between us until we’re face to face. “We can’t put any of this into boxes.” I gesture below us to the mess we’ve made. “The shit that went down in Vegas just proved how fucked we both are. What are the odds we see your mom there, in the flesh, withmy sister?Call it the coincidence of the century, but no matter how you spin it, it was fate. And you’re hurt by her?—”
“So what?” he interjects. “You heard the woman. She made her choices. She choseyour sisterover me and my dad. Those are the facts. What more do I have to say about it? She can fuck off for all I care. Consider it water under the bridge. I’m over it.”
“But you’re not, Logan. It’s so obvious you’re not.” I take another step closer to him, reaching out to hold his hands in mine. Electricity hums when our hands clasp, but it’s not charged by lust. It’s the common pain we share for things out of our control. The pain we’re forced to face and not run away from by using each other to forget.
“You’re right. I haven’t found peace with Nora. Or with my mom’s diagnosis. I know I have to do the work to get there—just like you.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “But maybe … maybe your mom isn’t the villain you’ve made her out to be. Maybe?—”
“Are you serious?” His voice cuts sharp as he pulls his hands from mine. “You’re siding with her? After everything? After she basically convinced your sister to leave?” He stares at me like I just struck him. “Sheisthe bad guy, T. She always will be.”
There’s so much pain in his words as they hang heavily in the air. I close the space between us, reaching back for him gently. I wrap my hands around his wrists and guide his arms around my waist, then reach up to cling to his neck.
I breathe him in—his warmth, his weight, his pulse beating steady against my cheek.
“And that’s why we’re not ready, Lo.” My voice breaks as I whisper the truth into his ear. “We have to let each other go.”
He shakes his head against me, over and over, a silent, desperate protest. “Don’t say that. Fuck. I can change. I can be better for you. I?—”
“Listen to yourself. I don’t want you to change for me. I want you to change foryou!” I cry, blinking away the moisture leaking from my eyes.
Logan stares, breathing hard and deep. It hurts me to see how tense he clenches his jaw. I’m the cause of this distress, the unshed tears swimming in his eyes. I’m about ready to break right here in front of him at the sight of it.
“Is this what you want?” Logan asks, pain lacing his tone.
No.
