Logan looked torn between pulling his naked body away and comforting me, but I took the choice away from him by rolling over and burying my face in his chest. This wasn't his fault. He'd played a part but I'd done this and, however contradictory it was, I needed him to help me through it or it was going to be too much.
He still felt tense, but he seemed to understand, curling one long arm around me and holding me close, while my tears scored little rivulets down his skin.
"I miss him," I whispered, when my tongue was finally my own again. "I miss him so much."
Logan's fingers traced a gentle pattern through my hair. "I know."
"So how do I stop it hurting so much? How do I move on?"
"You don't. People always use the phrase 'move on' in situations like this, but that's bullshit. You never move on from anything. That's what people are, just layers of all the shit that's happened to them before. You don't need to move on, you need to keep building more layers. Tom will always be there, but eventually he'll just be a part of you, instead of all you can see."
I prayed that was true. I didn't say it, but he was wrong about one thing. Tom wasn't all I could see, not anymore. Logan had carved out a space inside me, and it was frightening how fast it was growing.
"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly embarrassed by what a basket case I was. "I throw myself at you then burst into tears. That's crazy bitch one-oh-one."
"No, I'm sorry," he replied. "Fuck, I should have had more self-control. I should have stopped."
"I didn't want to stop."
"Well if I'd known it was going to end like this, I would have."
"I'm sorry," I said again, feeling utterly pathetic.
"Stop it. I didn't mean it like that." His hand snaked under my chin, tugging my gaze to his. "You never have to apologize to me, okay? Never."
I gave a slow nod. I believed him. That was what made Logan so special, that understanding. Other people offered support, but they didn't really get it, not like he did. He saw through me. He knew my demons and the way to slay them.
"I don't know what to do now," I said.
"Me either."
"I can't keep pretending anymore."
He shifted beneath me. "Pretending?"
"That there's not something here. It hurts, it feels like a betrayal, but it's there. I can't ignore it."
He took a long time answering. "You should."
After what we'd just shared, that stung. I lifted my head, propping myself up on my elbow so I could turn to face him. "Why?"
"Because this," he gestured to the space between us, "is a recipe for disaster. I told you I wanted to protect you, and part of that is protecting you from me."
"You'd never hurt me," I said. I'm not sure where that conviction came from, but it felt true. I was safe with him.
"Not intentionally, but that doesn't mean I won't." He hauled himself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to run a hand through his hair. There were tired lines around his eyes now, as if the weight of the conversation was pressing down on him. "I had a fiancé once, too. Fiona. Beautiful girl, half American, half Filipino. We met at the end of high school and I just fell, hard. Up until that moment, everything had been simple for me. I had a plan — enlist in the army, fight for my country, save the world, all that ridiculous macho teenage crap — but suddenly I had a reason to stay. I put my career off for a while, but she didn't like that. She wanted me to be happy, even though it would be tough for us, so a year later I shipped out.
"Somehow we made the long distance thing work despite the odds. I loved her and I like to think she loved me, too. One summer, two years later, when I was back on leave, we got engaged. We had so many plans. Start a family, a business, buy a house; the fucking American dream." He gave a sick little laugh. "It turns out they call it a dream for a reason.
"I told you that what happened over there affected me, but I don't think you understand the extent of it. I'm not the same guy I was before I left. Some pretty fundamental shit inside me is just broken. In retrospect, I think she saw the signs, but she played them down. She wanted it to work as much as I did. But as soon as I came back for good, there was no ignoring it anymore. Fi tried, fuck knows she tried, but there's only so much a person can take. I don't blame her for leaving. I don't blame any of the women since. I've come to realize that that sort of thing is just beyond me now. I've accepted that. I don't want to cause any more pain."
"And what about what I want?" I asked, my voice soft and trembling.
His fists bunched and he shot to his feet. "You don't get it! Wanting it isn't enough. This is about survival. I'm messed up, Grace. You saw what I just did with Jonah. I came within a breath of pounding him into the floor just for talking to you, a girl I don't have any claim over. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Nothing about my life is normal. I'm a psychiatrist's wet dream. I can't give you what you need."