Grace for Drowning

He shrugged and took a long slug from his whiskey. "Maybe I was thirsty."

I sighed. Part of me had seen this going a different way. I had images in my head of Logan being so overcome with emotion at seeing me alive and well that he just broke down and apologized for everything. Obviously that was just naive optimism. I hadn't exactly been a picnic to deal with when I was drinking. There was no reason to think he'd be any different.

"What happened, Logan?"

He looked away and gave the barest shake of his head. "I don't want to do this." There were cracks forming in his facade now. His expression sagged, his muscles tightened. The bitter humor was falling away, revealing the broken man underneath. If I'd had any lingering doubts about the way his choices had affected him, they were now gone.

"Well I do."

His mouth twisted into a snarl, and he looked poised to get to his feet. "That's too bad, because you need to leave. I'm not joking. I don't want to see you. Get out!"

"Or you're going to throw me out? Go ahead, but I'm going to come right back in. I'm not going anywhere until you start talking, Logan. You owe me that much."

Conflict raged across his face. Even now, I knew he'd never actually lay a finger on me. Eventually, he changed tactics, fixing his eyes to the floor and doing his best to ignore me.

I couldn't believe I'd gotten this far without breaking down. Inside me, it was chaos. I wanted to burst into tears. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run over and wrap him in my arms and tell him it was all going to be okay. Most of all, I wanted to snatch the whiskey from his hands and down it in one go, to hit the self-destruct button and let nature take its course. Somehow, I'd managed not to pick up a drink since being discharged. It had taken every ounce of willpower I had. But being so close to an open bottle had my nerves on a hair trigger. The scent of it burned my nostrils, coaxing that ravenous hunger to fever pitch. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I couldn't break. Not yet.

"Did you really think I was just going to move on?" I asked. "Forget about you? About this?"

"You should."

Anger flared in my chest. "Don't do that. Don't you dare act like I could just brush this off. This meant something, Logan!"

This time he did stagger to his feet, agony painted on his face. "Something? This meant everything, Grace. Everything!" He spat the words at me, as though it was my fault we'd fallen for one another, like it was some heinous act that I'd made him care.

In spite of his rage, it was exactly what I needed to hear. That fire he had for me still burned in there somewhere. "Then why did you leave?"

He glanced away and cupped his hands over his face. "I freaked out, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I saw you in that bed looking so fucking broken and I just...I couldn't be there. I couldn't watch you die."

"But I didn't die."

"That doesn't matter."

"I don't understand."

He took his time replying. There was pain swimming in his eyes. So much pain. "Everything I've ever loved has been stolen from me. My parents, my friends, Fi. I've experienced enough loss for a hundred lifetimes, and I swore I wouldn't experience any more. Seeing you like that, it made me realize the risk I was taking. Even if you lived, would you still be here a year from now? What about five years? I'm a fucking wreck, Grace. Look at me. I can glue myself back together sometimes, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm in a million pieces. I was going to break down eventually, and when my shit really hit the fan and things got dark, you wouldn't have stayed. One way or another, I was going to lose you. I just accelerated the process."

I couldn't believe he'd doubt me like that. I knew it was more a reflection of his insecurity and self-loathing than it was his real feelings, but still it ripped me open.

My voice trembled as I spoke. "You can't actually think that. I gave you my heart, Logan. You saved me, and there wasn't anything I wouldn't have done to save you in return."

He shook his head helplessly. I didn't know if he really didn't believe me, or if he simply didn't want to. I'd always thought his issues were something we could deal with, something that could be tamed by patience and compassion, but now it was clear that might not be true. How do you beat something that is burned so deep? It was like a parasite, draining the joy from everything good in his life.

"I warned you that I was going to hurt you," he said. It was half plea, half accusation.

"Yeah, I guess you did."

"Why couldn't you have just listened?"

"I did. I just thought it was worth the risk."

"And what do you think now?"

I sucked in a long breath. I didn't know how to answer that. Was anything worth this?

We sat in silence for several minutes, contemplating, thousand-yard stares on our faces. I was glad for that. The conversation had shredded me, but nonetheless, being near him still brought me a modicum of happine

ss. If this was going to be the last time I ever saw him, I wanted to take whatever I could from the experience.