Can't Let Go (3 page)

“It’s
pointless
, Abby.  What am I going to do with my life?  What have I done so far?”  He shook his head, the self-loathing overwhelming him.  “I’m going nowhere.”

“You can figure it out—”
  She
couldn’t let him give up.

“What if I already have?  What if construction and tending bar is all I’m good for?”

“That’s not true.”  She knew it—she could feel it deep within her.  Logan Sheppard was going to do something with his life—all he had to do was
see
it. 

But he wouldn’t.  He was so stubborn, so hard-headed.  He would never see what she did. 

“Yes, it is,
Abbs
.”  He shook his head then, his eyes holding hers.  “You deserve better than what I can give you.”

“Don’t say that!”  She cried, taking his hand, pleading with him now.  Obviously reason was lost on him.  All she had left was his heart.  “Please, Logan.”  She begged, tears streaming down her cheeks—how could she be losing him when she’d only just realized how much she needed him?

“This is not my life, Abigail.”  He gestured to the clothes he wore, then to the cottage at his side.  “This isn’t me.”  He broke her grasp, stepping backward.  “I don’t belong here.” 

Abby felt her heart breaking within her as she realized he wasn’t going to change his mind. 

No matter what she did, he wasn’t going to stay. 

The pain was undeniable, washing over her like the waves breaking against the shore just a few feet from where they stood.  She couldn’t take it.

“Then go!” She yelled, throwing her shoes at him out of anger.  “Just go, Logan!  Get out of here!”

And she didn’t even wait for him to do so before she turned her back and stalked away from him, too broken to even watch him go.

~*~

She couldn’t stay inside.  Memories of him assaulted her—waking up beside him this morning and ruffling his hair; eating breakfast in bed, laughing as he dipped his toast into her eggs; crying mercy as he tickled her mercilessly; making love in the afternoon sun. 

So she sat on the lanai, dressed in her pajama shorts and tank top, staring up at the stars.  They were beautiful here—the sky was crystal clear.  Nothing like back home in Boston, where she and Hayley had spent the last four years, or L.A., where they’d grown up. 

She and Logan had fought like this before.  It was something they’d actually done often—only usually, his words weren’t so biting.  They weren’t so…final. 

They had always come back to each other.

And so she waited, telling
herself
that she wasn’t doing exactly that.  She thought about the things he’d said and wondered how much truth there was to them.  Never before had she doubted her relationship.  Sure, there were problems—she was aware of that.  But she’d never even considered their relationship coming to an end.  They would work through it—whatever it took, they would figure it out.  That’s what love was all about—wasn’t it?  And wasn’t their love strong enough to endure? 

When Abby saw his familiar build coming into view—she rose to her feet and hurried off the lanai, meeting him somewhere in the sand.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest, relief sweeping through her.  “I knew you’d come back,”
  she
whispered, swallowing at the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry. 

“Abby…”  He said softly, his tone warning her.

“
Shh
,”
  she
whispered, rising on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his.  “We’ll be okay, Logan.  I know we will.”  He was the first man she’d ever loved, and something inside her knew he would be the
only
man she ever loved. 

Whatever it took, they could work it out.

“I…”  He sighed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, maybe a bit reluctantly.  The familiarity was comforting and she melted into him, taking his embrace as a positive sign. 

“You still love me?”  She asked, lifting her head so that she could meet his eyes.

“Forever, Abby.”
            

And she kissed him then, trying with everything she could to show him how much she cared.  She felt his embrace tighten, felt him pull her closer.  There was a strange hunger in his kiss—something deeper, something she’d never felt before.

And then she was in his arms, being carried inside.  They tumbled into the bed and she began to work at his clothes—needing him, needing to meet his passion.  She needed him to know that she was his—to convince him that their love was strong enough to last.

~*~

Logan laid there for hours after Abby had fallen asleep, burning the image of her into his memory.  He knew he shouldn’t be here—he knew this was wrong, that being with her like this wasn’t right.  But he couldn’t help it. 

He thought back to the way she’d looked at him, standing out there under the starlit sky.  Her eyes had lent to her a blind vulnerability, pleading with him in a way that broke his heart to even think about.  It was a side of her he’d never seen. 

She was afraid. 

He had felt it the moment Abby touched him.  She knew that something had changed and she was trying so hard to pretend that it hadn’t.  But whatever it was—she knew it wasn’t going away. 

He thought of her simple question. 
“You still love me?” 
She had been so exposed.  She had revealed everything to him at that moment, and he couldn’t deny her. 

He couldn’t lie to her. 

No matter what happened, he would always love Abigail Lewis.  She was the world to him—like he to her.  Only he had to be strong enough to do what he knew was necessary.  What he knew was
right
.

Logan hadn’t planned on coming back.  He was just going to go, like she’d told him to.  He was going to buy a ticket home and disappear, letting her live her life exactly like she should. 

But he had to come back.  He needed just one last glimpse of her.  And then she was there, looking up at him with those beautiful green eyes of hers. 

And so he’d stayed.  He’d kissed her with a passion strong enough to last him a lifetime, and she’d returned it—perhaps with a desire even stronger than his own.  And he’d made love to her, telling himself to remember it all—to take care to make it memorable for her.  He knew she would think him selfish once she woke, and maybe she would be right.  Maybe coming back had been selfish. 

But he had to see her one last time. 

He quietly left the bed, careful not to wake her as he slipped out from beneath her sleeping form.  She stirred slightly and he paused, not wanting to wake her but also unable to turn away.  She was the best thing he’d ever have in his life—of that he was sure.

He hadn’t brought much with him, so there wasn’t much to pack.  But he did so quickly and quietly, pausing briefly to scribble a note before turning and taking her in once more. 

She looked like an angel—the sun glimmering off her golden hair, her expression one of peace, surrounded by billowing white sheets and pillows. 

Goodbye, my dear Abby.  May you find happiness with someone who is more deserving than
myself
.

Six years later.

Abigail Lewis walked into the building that housed the magazine she worked for, slightly distracted.  It had been a hectic morning—from waking up a bit late to getting stuck in the usual L.A. traffic, nothing had gone right.  And to top things off, she sighed with
irritation,
she’d just missed the elevator.  She did her best not to groan aloud as she stepped forward and stabbed at the button. 

To make things even worse, she knew there was a pile of articles sitting at her desk waiting to be checked over and edited.  The beginnings of a headache already stirred and she rubbed at her temples, hoping to avoid it.  Not for the first time, she wished she could be the type of person who enjoyed caffeine.  She would really benefit from some sort of large caffeinated beverage right about now. 

The elevator dinged in front of her and she tried not to tap her foot anxiously as waited for the doors to open, instead taking a moment to look around the lobby.  A few Easter decorations still adorned the walls—flowers and pastel colored ribbons, nothing at all gaudy or distasteful in Abby’s eyes.  But she’d already complained to the maintenance office about it, as her boss had ordered the Monday following the holiday

Ingrid was not going to be happy about this. 

Abby sighed again.  It was going to be a very long day, she could already tell.

The doors opened and she hurried inside, pushing the button and stepping backward, beginning to prepare
herself
for the day to follow.  Abby was—for all practical purposes—the chief editor of the popular gossip magazine
Rumor
.  It was true that she was technically more like an assistant to the actual chief editor, but in all realities, she did all of the work.  It was Abby that everyone went to for final approval, her boss far too busy maintaining her image in the celebrity world to
really
run the magazine. 

And with this week’s deadline quickly approaching, she knew she was going to be in for many long—and, really,
uncredited
, hours.  Because for all the work she did, she barely received any recognition. 

But wasn’t that the way of the magazine world?

With another heavy sigh, Abby stepped out of the elevator and began to make her way toward her desk.  Though she’d been with the company for going on three years now, the last of which she’d been given much more responsibility, she still hadn’t received her own office.  It was only the first of many complaints she had.

As soon as she settled at her desk, she was approached by several of the novice workers with questions regarding the layout of the magazine or specifics about certain articles.  Abby handled each question calmly and without hesitation—taking charge as she’d learned to do.  People were grateful for her—she knew.  Working with her boss,
Ingrid,
was a difficult task.  Even just thinking about their random weekly meetings filled her with dread. 

She did not look forward to the hour long sessions, during which Abby would brief Ingrid on everything that was being planned and laid out.  Ingrid would bark directions and criticisms left and right, though never once did she offer to actually
do
her own job. 

It was, without a doubt, Abby’s least favorite part of the day. 

When her co-workers had finally settled into their own assigned tasks, Abby took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before the day really began.  Instinctively, she glanced up at the framed photo sitting on the edge of her desk.  The smiling face of her best friend stared back at her, reminding her of a happier time.  In the photo, Abby smiled brightly beside Hayley the night of the wedding. 

A memory of the day that followed flashed across her mind—a familiar dull ache spreading through her chest—and the image of a tousle-haired man with beautiful gray eyes and a casual confidence that got her every time conjured briefly before her eyes.  She tried to push it away, not wanting to think about him or any of the havoc he had wreaked. 

But of course, this was the path her mind would take today. 

It made sense.  She might as well torture herself as much as possible.

And as if on cue, the phone on her desk began to ring, signaling that Ingrid was in her office and waiting.  Abby actually did groan then, unable to avoid it any longer.  She rose to her feet and crossed the short distance to her boss’s office, trying to compose herself before entering. 

“You were late.”  The woman scolded before Abby even had a chance to shut the door. 

“There was an accident on—”

“We’ve had this discussion before, Abigail.  Sluggishness will not be tolerated.”  All Abby could manage was a nod, her agitation growing.  She could count on one hand the number of times she had been late to work.  Ingrid, on the other hand, was rarely seen around the office before noon—if at all.  “And can you
please
tell me why there
are
Easter decorations still cluttering up the lobby when we are nearly at the end of April?”  Abby groaned inwardly.

“I’ll put in another call.”  She didn’t see what the bother was.  In her eyes, the flowers weren’t specific to Easter—they were a celebration of spring in general.  But to Ingrid, they were nothing but an eyesore.

“Now, do you have those prints I asked for?”  Abby nodded, bringing herself back to the present, handing over the files containing what Ingrid was asking for. 

“I faxed over—”
  Abby
began.

“
Jaymes
isn’t going to work out.”  Ingrid cut her off, not even bothering to look up from the pages she was scanning. 
Jaymes
was one of the newer copy editors, fresh from college.  “You’ll need to take care of that for me.”

“But Ingrid—”
  Abby
stammered, stunned.  Ingrid looked up then, as if daring her to say more.  “This is only his second publication—”

“He should have learned from the first.”  Ingrid was a beautiful woman.  She had vibrant red hair and a carefully maintained pale complexion.  Her eyes were a light brown—but sharp.  Everything about her was harsh, but it lent to her a certain kind of glacial beauty.  Many were intimidated by her, and perhaps Abby should have counted herself among them.  But she didn’t. 

Working for
Rumor
was not the direction Abby had intended her professional life to go in.  It had been the only opportunity in the area when she finished graduate school and she had taken it, planning on going somewhere else eventually.  But she’d stayed, biding her time.  She didn’t know why—didn’t know why she put up with all that she did.  With her credentials and experience, she could probably get a job anywhere by now. 

But something kept her there.  Something gave her the strength to forge on, waiting for a better opportunity to present itself.

It was a long meeting and by the time Abby left, her headache was in full-swing.  She threw herself into her chair and pulled open a drawer on her desk, searching through it until she came to a bottle of aspirin.  She had just finished swallowing them when the phone on her desk began to ring again.