Page 38 of Forget Me Not

“Most of the people who survived in my classroom got tattoos of the classroom number that we were in. But I didn’t feel the need to have that inked onto my skin, it wasn’t like it was something I was ever going to forget regardless. Then there were those who got the date that the shooting happened. Valentine’s Day.” A humorless laugh leaves her lips. I hate the way it sounds. I hate that she went through something so horrific, something that caused her so much pain. I also hate that I already know about it from her sister’s point of view, and Logan has no clue.

“Again, I’m pretty sure it’s a date I’ll never forget, so to have it permanently inked into my skin feels redundant. Plus, there’d be questions from people about what it stands for, questions Idon’t feel the need to answer. It just leads to people’s sympathy that I don’t need or want for that matter. And then there were those who got the names of those who were killed. My best friend was among those murdered that day. But simply getting her name tattooed felt too insignificant. She deserves something more than that and I’ve never been creative enough to decide what. When I finally decide to put something on my skin permanently, I want it to feel like not just a word or a piece of art, but something real, if that makes sense. Like it represents not only loss but also life, beauty but also pain, the end of one thing, but also the beginning of another.” She bites down on her bottom lip again and I instinctively pull it free with my thumb. Her eyes meet mine for only a second before flickering away. “I don’t know, it sounds stupid, I know I could just get anything—”

“It’s not stupid,” I cut her off. After everything she’s just said, it’s the one thing I think I can fully understand. That’s why instead of giving her the sympathy she doesn’t want or acknowledging a subject that clearly makes her uncomfortable, I offer her the one thing I know that I can give her. “Let me draw it for you.”

“What?” She looks up at me, confused.

“The perfect tattoo. The one that signifies more than a name, number, or date ever could. The one that is exactly everything you’ve wanted it to be. If you hate it, we throw it away. But if you love it, I’ll ink it onto you.”

“Yes.” The word falls from her lips so quickly it surprises me, and evidently herself too. “I think I’d like that.” She smiles up at me.

“Okay, good,” I say. “Thank you. For telling me all of that. For trusting me with it.” I feel like a piece of shit as I speak the words because that’s what she’s doing, trusting me. Trusting me when I’ve given her no reason to. Trusting me when I’m still hiding so much from her. I should’ve told her from the first time I saw her,but I wasn’t sure then. And then I got distracted. And now, too much time has passed, too much has happened. She wouldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t blame her for it either.

“Thanks for just listening,” she says softly. She leans up and brushes her lips softly against mine. I deepen the kiss, drowning myself in the feel of her still naked body pressed against mine, her sweet scent filling the air, the taste of her as our tongues dance. I focus on this moment and how perfect it feels, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before I fuck it all up.

Today is shit. It has been since the second I woke up late four hours ago. I never wake up late, but it’s like my body knew today would be a day that I didn’t want to participate in and was warning me not to stay asleep.

Today marks seven years since my mother took her last breath on this earth. It’s been three weeks since the gala and I’ve been so lost in Logan that I didn’t even realize the day was coming up. It’s never a day I try to remember in the first place, but it’s also a hard one to forget. Especially considering I was theone who found her. I wonder if that’s another thing Logan and I have in common.

Just another thing I haven’t spoken to her about yet as she continues to lay her trauma on a silver platter for me. She opens up to me more every day, something I know she doesn’t do for just anyone. For some reason, I still struggle to give her even a bread crumb of the hellhole that is my past. She doesn’t dig how most would, she understands not pushing someone to share things more than anybody.

But I still feel guilty for giving her nothing. Especially when the truth about my mother is something I can actually discuss with her. Minus how my mother’s death connected me to Lo’s sister. Fuck, I’m an asshole. With each day that passes that I hold Logan in my arms, that I bury myself deep inside her, that I watch her sleep by my side with her head tucked gently into my neck as though being pressed up against me provides her the comfort she’s been missing, I hate myself a little more.

I tell myself that she doesn’t need to know the truth, that it would only hurt her, and I never want to be the person to add more pain to her life. But I know she deserves it, nonetheless. The problem is that if I tell her said truth, she won’t trust me, trust us, trust what we have. But if I don’t tell her, and she finds out, she still won’t trust me. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

The guilt weighs on me with every minute that passes, yet I still can’t bring myself to tell her. Especially not when things have been so amazing between us. It feels natural and easy with her. It feels like more than anything I’ve ever felt before or ever thought that I would feel. I never wanted a relationship or love, it never seemed like something important enough to search for. But then Logan was dropped right in front of me and the immediate connection between us was so strong that it felt inevitable.

“Are you good?” King’s voice brings me back to the land of the living. I swirl around on the stool that I’m sitting on to look his way.

After waking up late, I had to rush to get ready and get downstairs for my first appointment of the day. Luckily the guy was a regular, so he didn’t mind me being a few minutes late. It wasn’t until we took a break an hour and a half into the appointment and I checked my phone I noticed the date. It fucking certainly didn’t make my day any better. I finished up with that client about fifteen minutes ago and have been sitting here, lost in my thoughts ever since.

“Fucking great,” I say, knowing he won’t buy it. King is good like that, remembering important dates. I only told him what this day meant to me four years ago and he’s remembered it every year since.

“I can cover for you with your appointments today. You don’t need to work today if you’re not up to it.”

“Nah, if I’m not working, I’m just sitting around thinking about shit. Thanks though.”

He nods at me, understanding.

“How are things with Lo?” he asks. He’s run into her a few more times since the barbecue when she’s been with me, and I can tell he likes her. She’s kind, but she’s also not a pushover. She’s the type of girl that just exists and makes those around her comfortable.

“They’ve been good.” I know it’s not the answer he’s been looking for. He’s been urging me to tell her the truth since I met her. He insists she’s reasonable enough to understand. It has nothing to do with being reasonable though. It’s a part of her life that she’s barely shared with me and the fact that I know most details without her knowledge will be enough for her to bolt. That’s not even including the fact that I’ve been lying to her.

“You should talk to her. If not about what you’ve been keeping from her, then about your mom, about what today means.”

“We’ll see,” is the only response I give him. I won’t make promises I can’t guarantee that I can keep, and he knows that. He nods his head, knocking his fist against the doorframe before turning and leaving the room.

With his presence gone, the weight of the day settles heavier over me. I pick up a pad and pencil, drawing to distract myself the way I always have until my next appointment gets here. The thing about distractions is that they’re just that. They only work for so long until you’re forced to face everything right in front of you. I should know, I’ve been using them for as long as I can remember, and they never seem to work in the long run.

Yet here I am again, distracting myself from every aspect of my life. Even knowing it’s only a matter of time before it all comes crumbling down around me, I can’t find it in me to stop.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Logan

“You look funny.” Theo’s voice immediately wipes the smile that I hadn’t realized formed off of my face as I shove my phone into my pocket. “I’m not used to seeing you so giddy. Is Kade sending you dirty texts? Oh my gosh, is it a nude? Let me see.”

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