Fighting Fate Page 14

  When they finished, she glanced around. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever finished clean up this fast before.” Tossing him a pleased grin, she added, “We make a good team.”

  A choking sound came from his throat as he seared her with a dumbfounded glance.

  She drew in a long breath, glad she had his attention, yet dreading the next few minutes.

  “Actually, I’m glad we were scheduled together tonight,” she pushed out, ready to get her speech over and done with. Ignoring the shock on his face, she smiled again, hoping to reassure him that she wasn’t going to say anything rude or hateful. “I’ve been hoping to run across you for a while now. There was something I wanted to say. And I was going to do it on Halloween when you drove me and my friends home, but then Einstein got into trouble and sidetracked me, so…” She shrugged and sent him a rueful smile.

  He blinked. “Okay.” When he just watched her, his face frozen as if he was reserving his reaction until he heard her out, she glanced away, suddenly self-conscious.

  “Anyway, I wanted to tell you I…that is, it wasn’t fair of me to kick you out of the grief group. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  He stared at her a moment longer, still frozen. Then he shook his head and frowned. “You didn’t kick me out. I left voluntarily.”

  She frowned right back. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her, was he? “But you wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t—”

  He lifted his hand to stop her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

  “No,” she pressed, remembering Einstein’s scars, not just on his skin but on his soul. She didn’t like the thought of someone else suffering that way too. Not even Logan Xander. “I do have to. When you said the group had really helped you, I didn’t get it. Not then. But I know what you mean now, because the group’s really helped me too.” She flushed. “I mean, I haven’t been able to talk about my issues with my mom’s death yet or anything like that, but I just…I can tell that it’s working…somehow.”

  She bit her lip, hoping that made some semblance of sense to him.

  Logan gave a slow nod. “Yeah, I can tell too.” When she looked up, he was the one to glance away and flush. “I mean, you’re definitely different than you were at the beginning of the semester.”

  She smiled. “As in, I don’t run wailing from the room whenever I see you now?”

  His lips did that crooked hitch in one corner, as if he wanted to smile but wasn’t quite capable. “Among other things.”

  His low voice moved through her, spreading a strange heat into all her limbs. Looking down at her hands, she pushed at her cuticles.

  “Well, I feel different,” she announced. “In a good way.” When he didn’t answer, she dropped her hands. “I guess we don’t have to stand around here all night if we’re done.” Spinning away, she reached up to turn off the clock radio, except she couldn’t reach it.

  “Let me.” Awareness curled up her spine as he stepped in close behind her. His arm brushed hers as he reached past her. She dropped her hand and lowered her face. The radio fell silent and her own thoughts seemed to echo around the quiet shop like a sonic boom.

  When Logan stayed directly behind her, she swallowed and shut her eyes, hoping and praying he wouldn’t do what she actually wanted him to do.

  “You found her, didn’t you?” he said. When she frowned and turned around, not comprehending, he winced. “Your mom.”

  He stepped back as if to give her space to run if she wanted to, but she didn’t move. His face was now flushed. “It’s just…I assume it has to be something even more traumatic than what happened with Tra—with your brother, since you still can’t talk about her.”

  “Yes. I found her.” She’d never told anyone that. “Why are you asking about this?”

  “Because I need to know.” His throat worked as he swallowed. She knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted the details so he could share the pain with her. He felt responsible. She had no idea how she knew that just by looking at the bleak desolation in his blue eyes, but she was more certain of it than she was of anything.

  “It must’ve happened on some big day,” he went on, his voice hoarse. “A holiday, or…or the anniversary of your brother’s death?”

  “New Year’s Eve,” she whispered, closing her eyes, reeling in the fact she was sharing this…with Logan Xander of all people. “She left a note saying the thought of suffering through another year of life was more than she could handle.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His quiet, heartfelt words didn’t even reach her. She’d shifted to the past. “I’d just spent the night at my best friend’s house. When I came home, she was…in the kitchen. I saw her as soon as I opened the back door.”

  Logan nodded. “Where was your dad?”

  “In the living room, passed out on the couch. I don’t know why he hadn’t found her yet or heard the gunshot, but when I screamed, he came tearing into the kitchen, an empty beer bottle in his hand. After…after he saw her, he roared out this sound like an enraged animal, and he threw the bottle against the wall. But I was standing too close. Some of the shattering glass ricocheted and caught me in the arm.” She rubbed the side of her shoulder where the half-moon scar was hidden under her long sleeves. “So much happened that day, I didn’t even realize I’d been cut until late that night when I changed into something to sleep in.”

  With a sad sigh, Paige kept talking, the words spilling from her without her permission.

  “Sometimes I wonder if she thought of me at all when she put the gun in her mouth. And I can’t decide which would be worse, that she did consider my feelings in all this and hated me so much, she didn’t care how it would affect me. Or that I meant so little to her, I didn’t even cross her mind.”

  A sudden anger rose in her throat. “I mean, how dare she do this to me? To my dad? To herself? She planned it, probably for days. It was purposeful. It was even worse than what you did.”

  She knew she’d gone over the line when Logan wrenched back, his face saturated with pain and shock. And guilt.

  Opening her mouth to instantly apologize, “Logan, I—” she stopped when he shook his head.

  “No. I don’t know if it was worse or not.” He ducked his face as it flushed with color. “Maybe it wasn’t. I definitely meant to hit your brother.” Just as abruptly as the color had highlighted his cheeks, it fled, leaving him shaken and wan.

  Reading his expression, she knew he was remembering. He was seeing Trace die at his feet all over again.

  “But you didn’t mean to kill him.” She kept her voice low. Apologetic.

  He closed his eyes and shuddered. “No. From the bottom of my heart, no. I didn’t mean to kill him, I swear to you. I never meant it to go that far.” When his lashes lifted, his piercing gaze begged her for forgiveness. “I never meant it to go that far.”

  For the first time, she actually wanted to give it. But letting go of the bitter anger toward him scared her, even though she knew she’d already absolved him in her heart over a month ago.

  Clinging to her denial like a security blanket, she realized forgiving him would open the floodgate for other emotions to enter, emotions she knew she shouldn’t harbor for Logan Xander.

  Needing space from the overly personal conversation they’d started, she backed up and glanced around. They were still at The Squeeze, clocked in and discussing her mother of all things, a topic she’d refused to discuss with anyone.

  She shook her head, dazed. “Why did I tell you all that?”

  He shrugged. “Because I asked.”

  She knew it was more than that. She felt a connection with him. They had both suffered from the same event. They were both scrambling to find a way out of the misery. They were both lost but desperately seeking a purpose.

  “Do you know why I came to Granton?” she asked, pretty much out of the blue.

  Logan shook his head. “Did you know I was here?”

  “No.” She gave him a sad smi
le. “Not at all. It was actually because of Trace. This was his dream school.”

  “Oh, God.” Face once again blanching of color, Logan leaned against the opposite counter and swiped a hand over his short crop of hair. “I had no idea.”

  “He wanted to get a business administration degree in marketing. So I majored in business administration.” Paige gave a short, harsh laugh. “But the thought of actually taking a business class scares the crap out of me.”

  Logan peered at her. “Then why did you—”

  “Because I wanted to live his life for him.” Her shoulders lifted and fell in a helpless shrug. “It seemed easier than living my own life. Yet once I got here, I found I could have my own life. And slowly, I started living for me instead of him. It was so strange. At home, everything fell apart around me, and no matter how hard I tried to fix it, it just got worse. But here…here I actually help people. I make a difference. I’m somebody. And I like it.”

  Glancing at him to gauge his reaction, she found him profoundly affected. Though he wasn’t technically crying, his eyes looked wet. “That’s…that’s great, Paige,” he whispered as if he was honestly proud of her.

  “Yeah.” She wiped her damp palms on her thighs before dropping her next bomb. “I think subconsciously, you and I both came here, to this college, for exactly the same reason. To start over fresh. But if not attending those grief group meetings prevents you from doing that, if it keeps you from your own healing process, I won’t be able to move on quite so well either. I like helping people, and if I do something that purposely blocks you from being helped, it’s going to bother me. A lot. So I really need you to come back to the meetings. Okay?”

  The breath shuddered from his lungs before he answered. She knew how big a decision this was for him. But she didn’t back off. She stared at him hard until he nodded.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  LOGAN APPROACHED THE CRIMSON ROOM the next Tuesday evening with his nerves on edge. Just because Paige had told him she was fine with him returning to the grief group didn’t mean she honestly was fine with him returning to the grief group. He knew he’d said he was fine plenty of times when he hadn’t been.

  But there was only one way to find out the truth. To show up at a meeting. Besides, he’d missed it. A lot. He missed Samantha, and Jamie’s weekly treats, and Kevin’s goofy comments. The members had become his pseudo family these last few years, and he looked forward to seeing them again.

  Most of all, he looked forward to seeing her.

  He fully realized he had to be the biggest loser on earth, crushing on the most forbidden girl he could possibly dream about. But Paige was so…

  She was just so Paige.

  She could put her own abhorrence for him aside so they could both move on with their lives. There was something precious about that. He wished he could be more like her.

  Smoothing his long sleeves as far down over his wrists as he could get them to go, he paused just before the entrance, working himself up for the big moment. When he felt ready enough to proceed, he blew out cheeks full of air and stepped into the room.

  “Oh my God. Logan?”

  At Samantha’s astonished cry, Paige lifted her face. She turned slowly from talking to Jamie and watched from across the room as Samantha rushed to him and hugged him hard. Others flocked forward to welcome him back as well, and not one person asked why he’d been absent for so long.

  Logan smiled timorously at the hearty greetings and murmured one-word responses to each person who spoke to him.

  It struck her then how quiet he was. Not even at work when he had to talk to customers did he speak a lot other than what needed to be said.

  There went another misconception she’d made about him. Before, she’d always pictured him as a conceited loudmouth, spewing out a bunch of vain nonsense just to hear his own voice. But her assumption couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  Paige sighed. She’d been so wrong about him on so many different issues.

  When he glanced up and caught her gaze, she felt captured. Her breathing stumbled through her lungs at the hesitant, questioning look he sent her, silently asking if she was certain about his presence.

  In answer, she smiled and nodded her own greeting.

  He stared at her another moment longer before turning back to Sam to respond to whatever she’d said to him.

  The leader of the group seemed happier to see him than anyone. Samantha hooked her arm through his and led him to the circle, talking animatedly. Paige hadn’t realized just how much she’d taken away from everyone here when she’d forced him to leave. He might not have been a loquacious member, but sometimes silent support was equally important.

  She was glad she’d grown up enough to make him come back.

  “Okay, everyone,” Sam called, clapping her hands. “Time to get this show on the road. We have lots to do tonight.” Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure and her smile full of joy as she gathered the college students to the circle.

  To show her support, Paige made sure to slip into the empty seat next to Logan.

  He didn’t glance her way, but she heard his sharp intake as she sat.

  Keeping her voice quiet, she murmured, “Welcome back.”

  He gave a slight nod, letting her know he’d heard her.

  She had never been so aware of the person sitting next to her before. Paige held her breath as she stared at his knee, barely making out the jean-clad joint in her peripheral vision. They sat only inches apart. If she wanted to, she could probably swing her leg to the side and bump it into his.

  Why she was even thinking about this, she had no idea. But it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

  Samantha cleared her throat, gaining the room’s attention. “First of all, I wanted to let everyone know I got us some hour-long slots to visit the children’s ward at the cancer center next month. So I have a clipboard here with the sign-up sheet. Once everyone interested in participating writes down their name, I’ll split you up into groups and let you know which dates you have.”

  She handed the clipboard to the girl on her right.

  “And since finals are next week, this is technically our last meeting before winter break. So, I’m making it our Christmas party of sorts. Because our group uses the Crimson Room more actively than any other group on campus, we were asked to decorate it for the holidays. Which means, no group sharing tonight. We’re hanging decorations instead!”

  Christmas.

  The word sent a lonely flutter through Paige’s throat. She’d have to go home for a few weeks following finals since the dorms closed during the winter break. After spending two days home during Thanksgiving, she wasn’t looking forward to Christmas at all. Her dad hadn’t said a total of five sentences to her the last time she’d seen him. She wondered if he’d bother to talk to her at all this time.

  Realizing most of the grief group had already shifted to the boxes full of decorations lined against the wall, Paige looked up when the girl on her left handed her the sign-in sheet.

  “Thanks.” She studied the list, a little disappointed so few had volunteered to visit the sick children. Wanting to write her name in huge, bold letters, she frowned when she realized she didn’t have the proper equipment.

  “Does anyone have a pen I can borrow?” she called, lifting her attention from the clipboard.

  “I think I do.”

  When she realized Logan still sat beside her, waiting for his turn to sign while everyone else had wandered toward the decorations, her muscles tensed.

  Ducking his face, he dug through his backpack. Paige grew fascinated watching the crown of his head where she could see his scalp through his trim, buzzed hair. She wondered why he cut it so short. Did it have anything to do with this penance thing he seemed so determined to put himself through?

  When he came up from the depth of his bag with a pen in hand, he sucked in a breath the s
ame moment she recognized it. It was her pen, the very pen she’d dropped the first day of classes when she’d learned he was attending the same university as her.

  “Oh.” The word puffed from his lips as he gaped at the pen in horrified embarrassment. “Sorry. I have another…” He began to retract it and slip it into his bag when she decided they were being silly.

  For crying out loud, it was just a pen.

  “This one will do.” She plucked it from his hand before he could tuck it away.

  His head snapped up, blue eyes startled.

  Turning away before she could read too much into his expression, or he could read too much into hers, she scrawled her name on the sheet, ignoring the way her hand shook slightly.

  Plastering an overly grateful smile on her face, she said, “Thanks,” and tried to give the pen back to him.

  His eyes flared wide, and he pulled back as if scared of the pen. Shaking his head, he waved her to keep it. “It’s yours anyway.”

  “Don’t you need it to sign in?” she asked.

  He stared at her a moment as if he wanted to figure out what was going on in her head. Then he apparently gave up trying and lowered his gaze as he nodded. “Thanks.”

  The pen slipped slowly from her hand. She had no idea why she stuck around, but she remained seated beside him while he signed in his name and set the clipboard on Samantha’s vacated seat.

  He stared at the pen in his hand. She could almost hear the inner debate in his head, wondering if he should try to foist it back on her or just keep it.

  Deciding to save him from such daunting indecision, she reached out and tugged it from his fingers.

  Though he let her take it without a word of protest, he tracked the departing tool as if silently saying goodbye to an old friend. Then his gaze shifted to her.

  She held her breath, knowing she should really stand up and go now, but she couldn’t seem to move.

  “I didn’t know if you’d really show up tonight or not.”

  One corner of his mouth hitched in amusement. “Neither did I.”