Logan stood beside her as she unwound the metal closure. She handed him the box with the rest of Lisa’s ashes and tried to think of something profound to say, but she’d learned over that last year that death was never as poetic as she wanted it to be. The meaning was there all the same, whether it was carried in stanzas or early fall breezes.
“To Lisa,” Logan said, the wind scattering the particles over the cliffs below.
“To Lisa,” she repeated, her lips wobbling on the soft sound of her mother’s name.
Logan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. She leaned into the touch, like driving by a childhood home, searching the yard for new blooms in the planters, the windows for different curtains.
This was finally releasing her. Releasing the version of her she’d been when her mother was only a call away. Releasing the pain, and the anger, and the pleading for all of it to have been a bizarre nightmare.
All of it floated out into the ether, no longer Hanna’s to carry.
The sun caught the ashes as they drifted downward into the canyon, glittering as they went. Lisa would have accepted nothing less.
Sweet as hell, bites when necessary.
They made it back to Phoenix in time for a late dinner at one of their favorite pho restaurants before taking a walk around their favorite park.
When Logan pulled her into a long hug on the front porch, it settled into her skin. Neither he or the house were home any longer.
She searched for her keys. “Want a nightcap?”
“No, actually, but maybe some coffee? I, uh, I gave up drinking for a bit,” he admitted.
“Wow, look at us, growing,” Hanna joked as he followed her inside and into the kitchen. She pulled a Sun Devils mug from her cabinet for him, the one he used to take onto their patio in the morning before work while he scrolled through the news.
“I really needed today,” Logan said. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, but not to keep her out.
"I told you it would be good for both of us," she said and popped a pod into the coffeemaker.
“It was. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she said, settling beside him with her own mug.
She rested her head on his shoulder the way she always had, but the gesture between them felt entirely new. They sat like that in a comfortable silence until the time difference eventually dragged him down.
Hanna walked him to the door and leaned against the frame. As he passed her, she realized just how much his face had changed. He stopped in the doorway and looked confused when he caught Hanna staring. Shifting toward her and sinking his shoulders inward, he dropped his face closer to hers and focused his bright blue eyes on her lips.
Despite having kissed him a thousand times in her life, the brush of Logan’s mouth against hers felt so foreign. She jumped backward, pushing at his chest.
He laughed awkwardly, hanging his head back against the doorframe, his neck turning bright red.
“That was so dumb,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry!”
“Why, why, why?” she asked, her face hidden behind her hands. “We were having such a nice day!”
“I’m an idiot!”
“You’re an idiot,” she agreed, the panic dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Oh my god!”
“Did we ever have chemistry?” he asked, his face still flushed with embarrassment.
“I think we’ve officially closed the loop on Logan and Hanna.”
“They’re so over,” he agreed.
Hanna snorted. “May they rest in peace with Lisa.”
“Oh god,” Logan groaned, pulling her into a warm embrace, any underlying doubt gone for good.
