I don't know how long I lay there, listening to her laugh, sigh and sob. I heard the pages turn, almost like clockwork, every few minutes. Eventually, I heard the slapping of heavy pages as the book closed. Her weight shifted on the bed, the covers moved, and the warmth of her body enveloped me.

"Logan," she whispered.

I pretended to ignore her.

I felt her breath against my lips. She must have been close. "I love you so much, Logan."

My eyes snapped open. Her smile grew. "What?" I croaked out, my voice scratchy from sleep.

She nodded slowly. "You heard me. I love you, so damn much." She moved closer, until we were chest to chest.

It was like that day—the dream—her words. She must've read it. She must've known what those words would mean to me. "Yeah?" My voice broke. "You're not just saying that bec—"

She shook her head, interrupting me. "I'm saying it because you never let me say it before. I'm saying it because I've wanted to say it ever since you took me to that bookstore. I've wanted to tell you since you got me this." She pulled out a gold chain from around her neck and showed me the vial. "When you kissed me out there in the pouring rain, and told me that we'd make new memories. You took something that I was afraid of and turned it into something amazing. That's what you are to me, Logan. Amazing. I want you to know that, and if it means telling you that I love you over and over and over, then I will. I love you so much, Logan." She kissed me once. "I love you." Another kiss. "I love you." Another kiss, deeper this time. "I love you."

"Stop," I told her. "You're going to waste them."

She pulled back. "I can't waste them, Logan. You're my person. I'll never run out of loves for you. Ever."

20

Logan

The sun was coming up by the time we'd decided to go back to sleep. She’d asked her million questions, like I’d known she would. I answered everything as truthfully as possible.

Some things were harder than others. Amuhda was a hard one to try to talk about, but she held my hand, and helped me through it. The only thing that wasn't serious was when she got to Rebekah. "You swear you guys didn't do anything? She just kissed you, right? And you stopped it immediately, right?" she'd asked, pacing around the room. "Swear it," I'd assured her.

"You don't have to lie to me," she'd said, almost like a warning. It made me laugh. That made her pissed. Her eyes thinned to slits as she clipped, "I don't care, Logan. It's not like you and I were . . . you know . . . whatever!" She threw her hands in the air. She got so flustered and so annoyed at my laughing at her that I couldn't help laughing harder. Typical asshole boyfriend move.

Then it was my turn to question what she'd done with other guys while I was gone. I'd been trying hard not to bring it up. A part of me wanted to know, and another part of me felt too sick at the thought. Actually knowing, mentally being able to picture it, I think I'd puke. When she promised me she hadn't even touched another guy and no hands had been on her . . . I lost it for a little bit.

We fooled around for so long, I swear my dick was about to snap off. We got to the point of me almost being inside her before I stopped it. We both agreed that we wanted to wait. Neither of us really knew why, we just wanted to take it slow, savor it.

Now, there was an incessant loud banging at the front door. We both shot up and out of the bed quickly. She pulled my jersey down over her thighs, a panicked look on her face. "W . . . what's happening?" She moved closer to me.

I pulled on sweatpants as she made her way over. "I don't know." My heart thundered frantically against my chest. I hadn't been this scared since I was seven.

She hugged my arm tightly and I turned to face her.

She flinched when the banging started up again.

"It'll be okay." I tried to keep my voice even, but I failed. "You need to stay here, okay?"

"No," she whined, gripping my arm tighter.

"Babe, come on."

I freed my arm from her grip, opened the drawer in the nightstand, and pulled out the handgun.

I heard her gasp.

I tried to soothe her, "It's just . . ."

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the gun in my hand. "I get it."

I covered the few steps between us, ignoring the banging, not just at the front door, but in my chest and in my head. I kissed her once. "It's probably just my neighbors, it's fine," I lied. It wasn't them; they knew better. They'd done it once and had me answer the door with a gun in my hand. Never again.

She returned my kiss. "I love you."

I wanted to tell her I loved her, too, but the banging started again. "You have to stay here. No matter what you hear, okay? If you think you need to, call the cops."

With each step towards the front door, my feet felt heavier. By the time I was there, they were lead. The trembling in my hand against my leg caused the gun to sway from side to side.

Thump. Thump.

The blood rushed to my ears.

Thump. Thump.

I looked through the peephole.

Assholes.

I opened the door.

"I swear it, I tried not to tell him but he knew I was keeping secrets. I don't like to keep secrets, Logan."

Cameron stepped in. "You asshole." Then he saw the gun in my hand and took a step back. "Shit, dude."