My mind quickly tumbled through a series of memories that I’d had every intention of keeping a very tight lid on. Quickly distracting myself, I turned on the TV and found a movie that I’d been wanting to watch—a romantic comedy with an assured happily ever after. I clicked it on and grabbed my plate back from the coffee table, tearing off a big piece of the aloo paratha and stuffing it into my mouth. I washed it down with another sip of my beer and settled in on the couch.
Eventually, Adam reappeared from his room, freshly showered and shaved and ready for work. He gave me a swift kiss on the top of my head before heading out the door, reminding me that he’d be back in the morning and to pack a bag for Breckenridge.
Later, when the movie reached its emotionally enthralling and incredibly romantic end, I wiped away my inevitable tears and cleaned up any trace of my existence from the living room before heading back to my temporary bedroom. I took a quick shower in the en suite bathroom—spending a little extra time letting the hot, scalding water cascade down my back—and then climbed into the big, soft bed.
As if to torment me, my mind immediately flooded back to visions of Logan. Knowing that I’d be seeing him tomorrow set alight a flame inside of me that I thought had been extinguished for good, and I wasn’t sure how that could even be possible after everything we’d been through. It dawned on me that I was more emotionally tormented by the mere anticipation of seeing Logan again than I had been this morning leaving Noah’s, my boyfriend of almost three years.
What waswrongwith me?
So what if Logan was coming with us tomorrow? So what if I was going to be trapped in a car with him for the almost two hours it would take to drive to my parents’ house in Breckenridge? And sowhatif we’d be sleeping under the same roof tomorrow night, so that we could all spend Thanksgiving together as a family?
My heart throttled on that last word—family.
It was true. Regardless of the past, Loganwasfamily. And I needed to make sure I got myself in line before seeing him tomorrow.
Despite the long nap I’d gotten earlier, the beer and hot shower had made me sleepy again. I pulled the covers up over my head, thinking about how my own happily ever afters always felt just out of reach, and eventually drifted off to sleep.
ChapterThree
SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO (AGE 8)
Pumpingmy legs as hard as I could, I soared higher and higher on the swing. The cool morning air tickled my face as my feet reached for the big sky above me. I loved swinging, especially when my body reached its peak into the sky and I froze mid-air, right before I started to fall. It never mattered how many times I did it, my stomach almost always felt woozy in the moments before the chains snapped tight and I knew that everything would be okay.
It was amazing, the rush of it.
The swings to the left and right of me were busy with other kids having their turn. I’d been at the park for an hour already after begging Adam and Logan to take me before the usual Saturday morning rush. I loved the park near our house. It had the biggest playground I’d ever seen—way bigger than the one at school. There were three different slides, monkey bars that were pretty high up, a huge merry-go-round, and a whole big row of swings.
As more and more kids arrived, the crowd around the swings grew bigger. This was exactly why I wanted to get here early—Ihatedwaiting in line and I wanted to have one all to myself while I could. Luckily, Adam and Logan didn’t usually mind bringing me here. There was a skate park next to the playground, and both boys had been focused on practicing their skateboarding skills this summer.
It wasn’t long before I realized that a line had formed in front of my swing, but I tried not to let it bother me.
Now, I knew the rules. Once someone was in line for your swing, he or she had to count to a hundred. Only after the first person in line counted to a hundred would the swinger have to stop and give it up.
Some kids could be a bit annoying about counting really fast so that the swinger only had less than a minute or so, but most of the time, we all understood the give and take and to do the right thing so that the next person in line would be fair when our turn came. To be themostfair, counting Mississippi-ly was your best bet. I didn’t make up the rules—I just followed them.
And sometimes, I enforced them.
The taller, dark-haired boy who stood in front of my swing was not interested in being fair, and started loudlyspeed-counting. Heads turned in his direction as his voice got bigger, and annoyance shot through me like a fierce, flaming arrow.
Not half a minute later, he reached one hundred. Other than the squeaking of the swings around me, everything was quiet as the other kids continued to stare.
I let my swing slow down, taking my sweet time as I kept eye contact with him. His dark pupils held firm, and we found ourselves in a bit of a standoff. As my swing continued to lightly rock back and forth, I refused to put my feet onto the ground for another whole minute.
When my swing stopped moving, I gave it anextraten seconds—Mississippi seconds—before I finally let my pink, Converse high-tops drop to the sand below me. As calmly as possible, I stood up and headed back toward the skate park to watch Adam and Logan until it was time for us to head back home. Just as I reached the outer edge of the sand pit, I heard a boy’s voice call out from behind me, “Bitch!”
I stopped in my tracks. The blood in my body immediately ran cold with all of the rage that I could possibly muster. I turned back to look at the boy and found him still standing in front of the swing. His face was red with frustration, and everyone else around him was frozen and staring back at me to see how I would react.
I might have been eight, but I was mighty as I shouted back to him, “Look, I’m sorry your mother doesn’t love you”—an insult I’d picked up from Adam—“but I can’t help you feel better about it, okay? You have to work that out for yourself.” I turned back around and stepped up onto the sidewalk, just as I noticed that Adam and Logan were walking toward me from the skate park, probably ready to go back home. From the distance I could see that Adam was animatedly showing Logan a new scratch on the bottom of his board, likely recreating whatever “killer” trick he’d just landed.
It was when I heard the heavy thuds of footsteps landing in the sand behind me that I quickly turned around to see the dark-haired boy running at me, eyes full of anger. I noted that, as he stepped up right in front of my face, he was a whole two heads taller than me. He peered down at me with a level of intensity that shot fear through my spine. “What did you say to me, you little bitch?” I could feel the spray of his hot saliva on my forehead.Disgusting.
“Hey!” I heard Adam roar behind me, and we both turned in his direction. Adam and Logan were running now, both of them dropping their skateboards on the cement. They reached us and my brother grabbed my shoulders to pull me back as Logan catapulted himself in front of both of us, pushing the boy back with his chest. I was immediately surrounded by the safety of their bodies and felt relief flow through me.
“What the hell are you doing, Bobby, running up on a girl like that?” Logan’s voice was full of a venom that I’d never heard before.Bobby. Logan knew this kid, which meant Adam probably did, too.
He was old enough to be in middle school, and still bullying kids on the playground. Figures.
I couldn’t see Bobby on the other side of Logan, but the silence told me that Bobby was likely on the verge of going number two in his jeans. In my smug attempt to try and peak over Logan’s shoulder, I noticed a deep purple bruise on Logan’s arm, mostly hidden by the sleeve of his T-shirt.
