Page 73 of Neat
I choked on a sob that had no tears to back it, a result of years of me training myself not to feel. I would have given anything to cry in that moment, to throw myself into Logan’s arms and beg for his forgiveness.
But I didn’t deserve it.
“I was just another way to rebel, wasn’t I? When everything else was out of your control, when you knew you had to play by his rules, I was the only way you could get your hits in, huh?”
I shook my head, bottom lip quivering, but I had no words to fight back. I had nothing but my bleeding heart in my hands — a heart I knew Logan wouldn’t take. Not now. Not ever again.
I didn’t deserve Logan Becker, because I was exactly the piece of shit he was describing me to be.
And the best thing I could do for him was let him go.
Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he let his hand fall to his side. His eyes searched mine, and they welled with tears the longer he stared. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then his head fell as he shook it. When he looked at me again, it was with a single tear slipping down his cheek.
“I was so blinded by you that I couldn’t see,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “All I wanted was to love you. Nothing else mattered. And now…” he swallowed. “Now, I’ve lost everything. Including you — and I never even had you at all, did I?”
My face twisted, again, all the signs of crying without the actual tears making themselves known. My heart ached so violently inside my chest I thought it would revolt and tear itself out of my body just to escape the pain.
He waseverythingto me.
But how could he ever believe me if I told him that, after everything that had happened?
When I didn’t answer, Logan shook his head, putting his hands up as if it was his final surrender. Then, he turned, storming the rest of the way to his truck. He climbed inside, slammed the door, roared the engine to life, and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving me damp and cold in the falling snow.
And it was right where I deserved to be.
Mallory
On my phone, there were a dozen missed calls and texts.
There were texts from my mother, asking where I was, and from my father, warning me to not upset my mother on Christmas Day. There were missed calls from my brother, from my grandparents on my mother’s side, and from Chris — who had left a few threatening voicemails that he’d beat down my door if I didn’t answer him soon. There were texts from acquaintances and “friends,” wishing me a Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
But there wasn’t a single word from Logan.
I didn’t know why I hoped for it, why my heart leapt into my throat every time my phone buzzed, or why I ever expected to see his name on the screen when I unlocked it. Last night hadn’t been a small fight. It hadn’t been a little misunderstanding that would feel silly and insignificant in the morning light. It had been the final blow in a fight neither of us even realized we were in. It was a total knock out.
And now, here I was, beaten and bruised on the cold floor of what I hoped my life would be, wishing I could go back in time and do everything differently.
If I had Doc’s DeLorean, I’d set the dial to send me back a little over a month ago. I’d go back and tell my father to take his deal and shove it right up his ass, because I would have listened to that little voice inside me thatknewhe wasn’t exposing all his cards. I’d known who my father was my entire adult life, and I’d been naïve to ignore what I knew about him just so I could selfishly pretend there was no reason not to take the deal he offered me, to get my dream if all I had to do was sacrifice a little time at the distillery.
If I hadn’t realized it from the beginning, Idefinitelyshould have figured it out once I got on the inside.
Once I saw how everyone in that department looked up to Logan, once I saw how, effortlessly, he was the best on that entire team, and once I put two and two together that my uncle was retiring, and that I’d been sent to that departmentdespitethe fact that I was the least qualified in our family to give tours…
I should have known.
I should have stood up, found my voice, fought for justice like I always did.
I should have stopped it.
But I didn’t.
Part of me ignored it because I didn’t want to have my dream ripped from me when I’d only just had the chance to hold it in my hands. Part of me ignored it because I was scared, because I had nowhere to go, because failing didn’t feel like an option for me — and I would avoid it all costs.
And perhaps the largest part of me ignored it because the more time I spent with Logan, the more I fell for him — and I thought if I ignored everything else that wasn’t him, I could live in a blissful little bubble where nothing could touch us.
I didn’t think of him, of his dreams, of his happiness — when it seemed all he’d done the past month was putmydreams and happiness first.
My chest ached as memories of us working in the shop filtered through my mind. I longed for those long afternoons, laughing and listening to music and learning more about him. I yearned for a different last name, for a different family, for a different circumstance where I could have met Logan Becker and fallen for him and let him fall formewithout any of this shit being an issue.
