I don’t understand, his mom is great. I couldn’t have done everything on my own that first month after Dad died. She was an amazing help with Mom as well.
He thinks for a moment before answering.
“I got tired of Jackson’s never-ending bullshit. He’s a grown ass man who has been in and out of trouble for years and Mom still makes excuses for him. As long as Jackson is okay, fuck everyone else. I just set a boundary I guess.”
Awe there it is. Jackson. I’m all about setting boundaries, it’s just too bad that they allowed his younger brother to come between them.
“You mentioned last night that you didn’t finish school,” I say, leaning forward slightly.
He shakes his head and runs his thumb back and forth over his lower lip. He really needs to stop doing that.
“No. I couldn’t.” He looks away silently for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I was in a pretty bad place for a while.”Me too Logan, me too.
Purposefully changing the direction of this conversation, I ask, “So how did you end up tattooing then?”
Don’t get me wrong, Logan has always been an incredible artist, but he never once expressed an interest in getting a tattoo, let alone actually tattooing other people. At least not to me.
“I was kind of lost for a while.”
I can tell he’s being careful not to cross over the line I drew about not talking about our breakup.
He continues, “I decided I needed a tattoo, so I drew what I wanted. The thing is once you get one tattoo, you want more so I drew another. After number three the owner of the studio asked to see my sketch book. Apparently, he was impressed with my realism pictures, and he asked if I had ever considered becoming a tattoo artist myself. I didn’t exactly have a career path mappedout anymore, so I gave it a try, and I was surprisingly good at it. The rest is history.”
“Will you show me some of your sketches some time?” What I would really like to see is the first three tattoos he got, but asking wouldn’t be a great idea right now. Maybe when we are better ‘friends’.
“Yeah, sure, I would like that.” He grins.
We make small talk about music and movies we both enjoy while we finish our pizza. Unsurprisingly we still enjoy many of the same things as we did when we were teenagers. It feels... good? Nice? Confusing? I don’t have the words to describe how I’m feeling to be honest.
“Well, I guess we should get out of your hair.” Logan stands and carries our dishes to the dishwasher and loads them.
I have enjoyed spending time with him. I shouldn’t but I do. I miss our easy friendship.Ugg, what is wrong with me?He can’t just show up again after years of nothing, say nice things, smile at me and I forget everything that happened.
“Thanks for the apology pizza.”
“No problem. Next time we have pizza I hope I don’t have to attach an apology to it.” He smiles warmly.
“Come on, Morgan. We need to go home.” The dog reluctantly rises from the floor and ambles over to Logan.
He opens the door, and I follow them out. It’s then I notice his truck for the first time. It looks like the exact same truck he was driving the last time I saw him. It must be close to thirty years old now. The red paint has started to fade but appears to be still in great shape.
“Logan?” Wrapping my arms around my body, I lean against the door jam.
“Yeah?” He turns to look at me and then towards where I am looking at the truck.
“What?” he asks.
“Is that the same truck?”
“It is. Some things hold so many memories it’s hard to let them go.” He cautiously places his hand over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze before he bends down and places a kiss on my forehead.
Stepping back, he looks in my eyes and says, “I’m going to go home, but I would like to spend time with you again, if that’s okay?”
“Umm, yeah. I guess.”
“Good. Do you still have the same phone number?”
“Uh huh.”
