“My bad. Totally my bad. I forgot all about it until I walked in here.”
“Yeah, a lot of things changed when we walked in here,” I said under my breath, but I knew he heard me.
He shook his head, actually shook his head, like to dislodge the stupid in him. “It can wait. I can do it tomorrow, early. Let’s—”
“No. You’re right. Get it done now. I’m going to head back to the dorm. Nice to meet you guys,” I said to Gabe and Veeti, “and to see you both again,” to Dex and Philly.
There was a chorus of “you too” and “see you soon” and other half-hearted goodbyes. Words they’d probably said to many girls that left this house the morning after.
At least I’d dodged that bullet of embarrassment.
“I’ll walk you to Creyts,” Logan said, and turned to lead me out of the house.
As I passed through the front door, I turned and put a hand on his chest, stopping him. His muscles flexed under my touch and I had a moment of regret that I would not get to run my hands all over that glorious chest, naked, tonight.
Not any night.
Because tonight had just proven what I’d talked about last Wednesday when we were out with Stick and Jane.
“This wasn’t a good idea. Neither was Monday night. I was right. Too hazardous to bring anything else into it when we’re dealing with emotional shit. Light and fun hookups aren’t going to mesh with that.”
“No, Megan, that’s not—”
At my realization, the embarrassment left me and I was left with a feeling of hollowness that had become so familiar to me in the past year.
“Really. I’m fine. I was pissed a second ago, but this is the right call. Definitely. I’m glad you saw it before I did.”
“I didn’t. That’s not what…” He tilted his head back, as if the doorjamb held the words he could not conjure up. “Come back in. Let me explain what happened.”
I wasn’t sure how he was going to spin it, and found I didn’t care.
“You know what, Logan? It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Please don’t walk me home. My dorm is right there. I’m good.”
“I think I should—”
I pushed on his chest this time, then took my hand away. “Logan, stay,” I said, like he was a puppy.
As I walked across Sturgess and headed to Creyts, I thought the analogy was close. Logan Fields was a hound, all right.
And I had seen up close that you couldn’t teach an old dog/hockey whore new tricks.
Chapter13
I didn’t actually ignorehis texts. But I gave very basic “k” and “kk” responses where I could, and an actual “can’t, sorry” response to his asking to meet up. After a couple days of that, he stopped.
The weekend had arrived, and with it presumably more hockey parties and girls that would be easier to sneak in at night and out in the morning.
I went out with Chloe and Abby on Friday night, getting drunk enough to want to stay in with Emily on Saturday night and order in. She mentioned Bonetti’s, but I swayed her to Chinese instead.
I spent Sunday at the library trying to get a handle on the reading for the upcoming week. Marlo had mentioned in last week’s Grief Group that focus could be an issue for those in mourning, and for us to be aware of that as we dealt with our academic load this semester.
Was it grief-based lack of focus that kept my mind turning to Logan Fields as I botched my Chem lab on Tuesday? Or just regular old thinking of a hot guy?
I told myself that it was going to be enough to deal with mourning brain this year, to not introduce any other reason to split my attention. And yet, at the worst possible times, I’d remember the feel of him on top of me in my dorm room. And then the flash of rage when he’d dropped my hand and hustled me away from his housemates only two nights later.
By the time Wednesday night came, I was feeling a little more confident that I’d be able to just think of Logan as a fellow Grief Inc. buddy and feel nothing more than that.
Until he sat down next to me and I smelled him. And heard his sigh. And felt him tense when we talked about ways we’d seen our families and other relationships change with the losses we’d suffered. And had to physically restrain myself from touching his arm whenever it was his turn to share.
