"So, this is me." I unlocked the car, opened the door, and threw my handbag in.

He stood in front me, nodding slowly. "Is this—I mean—this is the one they picked?"

"Ha! You mean the one you bought me?" The words came out harsher than intended.

He must've noticed because he didn't respond, just moved around me, stuck his head in the car and looked around. "So, it's good?" he asked. "I mean, it doesn't break down and shit? It's safe, right?"

He pulled back and waited for my response.

At the word safe, something in me shifted. "Yeah, Logan."  I started to unzip his hoodie. "It's safe."

He raised his hands as if to stop me. "Keep it," he said. His single dimple half-smile appeared. "Give it back the next time I see you." It came out as a question.

I continued to shrug out of it and handed it to him.

His expression changed immediately, and sadness washed over him. He took it from my hands, cleared his throat and nodded, as if understanding an unspoken word that lingered between us.

"It was really good seeing you, Logan. I'm glad we did this. I'm glad you're . . . safe."

His lips thinned to a line. He didn't speak, just nodded.

I turned to get in my car, but his hand on my arm stopped me. He spun me to face him and before I knew it, his arms were around me and our bodies were locked.

His hard chest was against mine, one hand on my back, the other in my hair. I could feel the heat of his breath against my shoulder.

"Amanda," he whispered, and then he slowly sucked in a breath.

Without realizing, my hands came up to rest flat on his back. I felt his fingers curl into me, holding me tighter. I shut my eyes and let myself have this moment, this last moment with me in his arms. I wanted to remember this, savor it, drown in it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed back the tears.

And that's how we stayed.

It could've been hours, it could've been seconds—it didn't matter. Time didn't exist.

We pulled back simultaneously. He sniffed once, and wiped his eyes quickly. Then his red-stained eyes met mine with an intensity that knocked me back a step. He leaned forward, wet his lips and placed them on my forehead. It was warm, and soft, and everything I remembered from the past. He cupped my cheek and pulled back slightly, but not enough that I could see him. Then I heard him speak, his voice low, but clear, "Goodbye, pretty girl."

He stepped back, turned around and walked away.

And I watched him.

I got in my car, put it into gear, pulled away from the curb, turned a corner, parked on the side of the road, and let it out.

All of it.

I love him.

I still fucking love him.

I couldn't control the sobs that shook my body. I'd cried for Logan in the past, but I didn't cry for Logan in the present, or in the future. And now he was here.

I would not let him break me.

After a few minutes, I tried to regain control of myself. I pulled out my phone to message Ethan, and let him know I was fine. He was okay with me having more freedom, as long as he knew where I was. I think it helped that he'd started officially dating Alexis a few months earlier and wanted to spend some alone time with her. I also think she’d helped persuade him to give me a little space. She was over most weekends, or he was there with her. It worked, and I couldn't be happier for them. I'm glad they finally found each other. She was exactly what he needed to stop whoring around. I laughed to myself, wondering if Logan's friends had ever thought that about me.

Fucking Logan.

I started crying again. My head hit the steering wheel, and the horn sounded. I jerked up in surprise. Then a knocking on my window made me squeal. I reached in my bag for the mace before turning around to find the person responsible.

Logan.

He was wearing his sweater again with the hood over his head. I wound down my window, a little suspicious of why he was here. "Are you following me?"

His eyes narrowed. "I could ask you the same thing."

"What?"

He jerked his head to the building behind him, but his eyes never left mine. "I live here."

"You all good, man?" a guy behind him asked. He had a girl under his arm. The girl had bleached blonde hair, dreadlocks and piercings. They were the type of people you'd expect to see at Twiggy's party. I guess that's how Logan ended up at a place like that. "I'm good," he told them. "You guys head in." He turned to me and spoke, concern dripping from his words, "Are you okay? I mean—have you been crying?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I mean no. I'm not okay, and yes, I have been crying." I didn't see the point in lying.

He straightened to full height. "Because of me?"

"Yes."

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his eyes cast downwards. "Do you—I mean—do you want to talk about it? About what happened to us?"

I shook my head out of habit, but then I calmed down enough to think about it. Maybe I needed to speak to him. Maybe I needed some form of closure. "Okay," I whispered.

"What?" he asked. His head jerked up in surprise.

"I think that might be a good idea, you know . . . closure and all."

"Closure." He repeated my words as if tossing the idea around in his head. "Okay."

I grabbed a sweater from the back seat and put it on, making sure to cover my wrists. He opened my door and helped me step out.