“I don’t care how they look as long as they taste good.”
“Agreed.”
Logan pushes my hair out of my face. “How are you doing?”
“I think…I think I’m okay.”
“It’s okay not to be okay right now,” he says gently.
“I know.” My eyes fill with tears again, and I wrap my arms around Logan. My chest tightens and a strangled sob escaped my lips. He holds me tight, standing there for as long as I need him to. When I’m able to breathe normally again, I straighten up and look into Logan’s eyes. “I’m tired,” I confess.
“Go upstairs and lie down. I’ll clean up.”
“I don’t want to make you—”
“You’re not. I’m offering.”
My throat feels tight again and I nod, knowing if I open my mouth to talk there’s a good chance I’m going to start crying. I go upstairs and get back into bed. Usually, I lie awake thinking about everything that upsets me, worries me, or makes me anxious.
But right now, I feel nothing.
And I don’t know if the numbness is worse or better than the bad feelings.
Eventually, I fall asleep. Mom wakes me up a few hours later, saying Dad is here and brought pizza. Logan stays and eats with us, and then goes back to his place to change and shower. I miss him as soon as he’s gone.
Everything happened so fast with Grandpa…and also with Logan.
We went to Hawaii as friends. And we left as…I don’t know. We’re not just friends anymore. I feel more for him than I’ve ever felt for anyone. I’m not in the mental space to start worrying about changing my relationship status on social media, and I don’t think Logan and I need a label like that anyway.
Because he’s still my best friend…who’s now my boyfriend.
I think.
We slept together multiple times and holy hell, it was good. I want to do it again…just when I’m not so sad.
After showering and changing into sleeper shorts and an oversized t-shirt, I go downstairs and find my parents at the dining room table. Dad is going over Grandpa’s finances. The farm has been paid off for years, and while Grandpa didn’t have much, he had just enough saved up to live off of while still caring for his animals.
“Hey, honey,” Mom says, looking up from the papers. Dad closes a folder as soon as I step into the room. “Did you get some rest?”
I shake my head. “I did shower, though. I’m going to go check on the horses. Their stalls need to be cleaned, I’m sure. Guess I’ll be taking another shower.” I look around the house, knowing it’s going to be so weird and so quiet once my parents leave in a few days.
The thought of being here without grandpa makes my heart ache all over again.
“Do you remember Sandra Harris?” Dad asks as he stacks the papers.
“From your work? Yeah.”
“She’s pregnant and is due any day now. She plans to take twelve weeks off and then come back.”
“Why are you telling me this?” A weird hollow feeling starts to rise inside me. I know exactly why Dad is telling me this, and that’s not what’s causing the feeling. What’s causing the feeling is that in the back of my mind, running away from the farm seems like it would be easy.
I wouldn’t have to be alone in this house, being reminded over and over that Grandpa is gone. People wouldn’t look at me with pity and give me sad smiles while asking how I’m holding up.
It’s my thing to do when the going gets tough. Run away as fast as I can, giving myself a head start before my problems catch up with me.
But the thing is…they always do.
And this time…this time leaving would hurt even more than staying.Chapter 28Logan“How’s Danielle doing?” Owen asks, moving an empty casserole dish from the counter to the sink. We’re at her house, and the service for her grandpa just ended. A few people are still at the house, sharing stories and memories. Her grandpa was respected by the town, and we are all feeling his loss. I think half the town turned up today, bringing flowers and food and giving their condolences. That’s the thing with small towns. When you know most everyone, you care for most everyone.
“She’s trying to keep it together.” I open the fridge, trying to find a place to put the bowl of taco salad someone brought. It won’t fit, and I’m pretty sure the extra fridge in the basement is full already too.
The last few days passed in a blur. Danielle cried, slept, and drank a lot, and then when the rest of her family came into town, the time was spent reflecting on her grandpa’s life and looking through scrapbooks. Now everything is over, and people are leaving.
Stacking the bowl of taco salad on top of another casserole, I go down into the basement to try and make things fit. It takes a bit of rearranging, but I get the two dishes put in. Danielle is on the back porch, and I’m about to go out with her when I see her father sitting on a chair next to her.