Can't Let Go - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,23

It was the same part of her that she’d buried deep within herself long ago and had deliberately chosen to forget about. The part that still, despite whatever protest she may have against it, envisioned some sort of future with him—some sort of alternate life.

It was the piece of her heart that fluttered to life with even the briefest glance his way. It was the urge to touch him, to feel the warmth of his arms as they wrapped around her. It was the longing she felt to rest her head against his chest and breathe him in.

Logan Sheppard.

He was the love of her life. She accepted this as a standard fact—what she experienced with Logan was something she would never find again. But over the last six years, she’d convinced herself that what made him the love of her life was the way their love had ended. It hadn’t had time to burn out—hadn’t had time to reach it’s full potential. It would always be, in her mind, a perfect love: passionate, intense, undeniable…

And, ultimately, devastating.

The same part of her that was anxious to see him, however, knew the truth.

Abigail Lewis would never let go of Logan Sheppard—not completely. She would, for the rest of her life, hold on to the flame that was their relationship and always wonder what could have been.

It was something that Hayley had known as well. It was the reason why she would, every once and a great while, reinsert the possibility of Logan into Abby’s mind.

She would casually mention that he’d finished school and had found a job as an architect, or that he’d been to visit and still hadn’t found someone to settle down with, or that whenever Hayley mentioned Abby’s name around Logan, he would suddenly grow noticeably quieter— somber, even.

Abby would, of course, insist that she didn’t think about Logan. But it was always a lie. Because not a day went by that he didn’t at least cross her mind just once. Every day at work, she would stare at the picture from Hayley and Blake’s wedding and she would remember how happy she had been that day. How clear everything had suddenly become.

She had loved Logan—and her hopes for the future were within her grasp. She had honestly believed that, no matter what, they could find a way.

How wrong she had been.

She often wondered what life would have been like had he chosen to stay. She wondered if he ever regretted his decision—or if she ever even crossed his mind. And every time, she came to the same conclusion.

Logan Sheppard wasn’t meant to be a part of her life, and wondering about the possibilities was only a waste of time.

With a heavy sigh, Abby lifted herself into a sitting position and massaged her temples. Her eyes burned with every blink and she could feel the swelling that pillowed beneath them.

The knowledge of her friends’ deaths was easier to accept this morning. She didn’t argue with herself that it was some sort of nightmare or a cruel prank.

It was reality. Hayley and Blake were gone.

Accepting it, though, didn’t make it any easier to bear.

Abby rose to her feet and crossed the small motel room until she found the bathroom. She was in need of a shower. She could feel the knots of tension in her shoulders and she suddenly longed for the hot spray of the water. An image from years ago, Abby sitting at her desk typing away at her computer and Logan approaching from behind, massaging her shoulders without even offering—just doing it because he knew it would help—crossed her mind.

But she immediately pushed it away.

That was a reality she didn’t need any part of. Not anymore.

As she leaned over and turned the knob to begin the shower, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.

She almost didn’t even recognize herself.

Her hair was shorter now than it had been years ago—a more manageable look than her previous mane. It was still honey-colored, but maybe just a tint darker than it’d been six years ago. It was her eyes that had changed the most.

It wasn’t that they were red and swollen from tears. It was that they had aged—seemingly overnight. No longer was she the carefree girl she’d once been. She was a woman. She was a woman who had experienced pain—pain and loss.

And suddenly, she couldn’t take it. She turned her back and shed her clothes, climbing into the shower and pushing the image from her