I had no idea he was what I needed.
My heart ripped open as he held me, and it scared me.
“Ava,” he said, over and over. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop him before he did anything.” His hands stroked my head, his fingers threading through my hair, as I squeezed him hard.
The words were in my throat, struggling over the knot to come out. My once silent tears were now quiet sobs against his chest as he worked hard to soothe me.
He brought himself up to the bed, me on his lap, and just held me.
He then understood thatthiswas what needed to happen. He held me and I let it all come out.
After minutes of me crying, I pulled back to look at him. His face was blotchy as tears continued falling down his cheeks as well. He took my face in his hands, his thumbs furiously rubbing at the moisture under my eyes.
“What can I do?” he croaked out. “I have to make this right, Ava. How can I help you?”
I shook my head, attempting to shrug out of his hold. As much as I needed the strength of his presence, his arms around me, I wasn’t ready for more. Not when I knew what I was planning on doing.
“Don’t shut me out, please,” he begged.
But I won the battle because we both knew he wasn’t going to hold on to me against my will. I moved back toward my pillows, pulling the blanket up and over me. I knew as well as he did it became the wall between us in that moment.
The slump of his shoulders as he moved further down my bed showed his defeat. He had his back to me, bent over his knees, staring at the wall in front of him. The muscles in his shoulders and back tensed as he scrubbed at his face with his hands, indicative of the stress from the night before.
Further indication that our situation wasn’t good for him.
Wasn’t good for us.
He had so much going on in his life that he needed to consider other than me and our silly, secret fuck-buddy relationship. I wasn’t going to be the reason he struggled with more anxiety, or God forbid, his sobriety. I needed to have the balls to do this.
“Ava,” he said. “When I saw him touching you, my world stopped spinning. Hearing you say no, and him not stopping…I could only think about you, making sure you were safe.” His head swiveled as his eyes searched for mine.
However, once they connected, I had to look away.
Suddenly, he shot up from the bed, pacing the room. His eyes went wide, his breathing ragged. He kept wiping his hands on the thighs of his sweatpants as he walked in small circles.
“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself. His hands ran through his hair, then clasped above his head, his elbows banging together.
Something changed in him, but what?
He went to the window. His sudden silence was a stark contrast to the behaviors I’d just witnessed. As he stared outside, the silence that filled the room became a barrier that grew between us with each passing minute.
But for some reason, I still couldn’t bring myself to say anything to him.
Not yet.
He finally turned and gestured to the plate of food on the small table.
“I made you your favorite breakfast.”
Pancakes and bacon.
“You should eat it before it gets any colder.” His voice was devoid of emotion.
Then he kissed me on the forehead, put his head down, and walked out of my room.
The interactionbetween Logan and me was utterly confusing. I expected the emotion and the tears from me and wasn’t completely surprised he cried as well. But the change in his demeanor took me by surprise. I had no idea what happened. My only thought was he was staving off a panic attack and needed to leave, possibly to talk to his therapist.
I decided to reach out to him later. My plans to talk to him about us still needed to happen, but I could put that off until I knew he was better mentally.
