“The evening I was going to do it—I was sitting in bed and holding the gun and trying to convince myself there was nothing left for me here. I’m not a quitter—I’d never quit anything before, but the thought of carrying on without Stephanie felt pointless. So there I was with a gun pressed to my temple, when there was suddenly a knock on the RV. Scared me so bad, I nearly shot myself anyway.” Cassie, who was still crying, chuckled through her tears. “It was as if she’d been sent to save me. My god, I really don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t make it…
“And Leisel,” Cassie continued. “She’s the heart and soul of this place—none of us would be here without her. I can’t believe she went willingly into… God only knows what.”
My anger, which had somewhat faded since Logan’s departure, suddenly returned with a vengeance—not at Logan, but at Leisel. Anger that she’d dragged Logan out there with her. Not that he’d needed to be dragged; he’d gone willingly, too…damn him.
“I need to go,” I said tightly—everything felt tight, my throat especially—and without another word, headed for home.
Inside the cabin, I crawled into Logan’s bed, burying my face into his pillow and swallowing back the tears that threatened to fall as the scent of him filled me completely. I didn’t want to cry anymore. After all, if I cried now, it would mean that I believed the worst. I had to stay positive—I at least had to try to stay positive. But as day turned to night and night turned back into day, and Logan had yet to return, it became increasingly harder to feel anything but terror.
At some point, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep only to wake with a jolt, greeted by darkness and silence, and the empty echo of a cabin that contained only me and an ever-worsening sense of dread in my gut. I forced myself out of bed, feeling sweaty and sick—what few hours of sleep I’d gotten, having done nothing for me other than while away the remainder of the day.
Inside the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face and stared miserably at my reflection, trying to will myself into action. I needed to shower, to eat something. I needed to check on Britta. I needed to go to work. There were so many things that needed to be done that I found myself too exhausted to know where to begin. Climbing back into bed, I clutched Logan’s pillow to my chest once more. “Logan,” I whispered raggedly. “Come home—please, please come home.”
I could no longer imagine my world without him. Logan was my rock, my safety net… and had been for far longer than I’d ever been willing to admit to before.
I found myself crying—a flash flood of desperation and unease, sobs racking my body so hard and for so long that I eventually cried myself to sleep.
This time I didn’t wake again until dawn.
