Can't Let Go - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,49

monotonous, boring life—it pained him.

But he climbed into the truck and made the drive to the airport, knowing it was his only option. He was an adult now—he couldn’t go hide away somewhere and pretend the world didn’t matter like he had done the last time he’d lost her. No, he had responsibilities. People were counting on him for more than just their serving of alcohol now.

It was a long drive and he was fortunate to find that his flight was on some sort of weather delay. Apparently there were some threatening storms rolling around out west, he discovered from the other passengers as they all sat aboard the plane. Everyone around him was anxious to get wherever it was they were going, but Logan didn’t care. What was he returning to?

A house he was building for a family he would never have? A job he actually enjoyed, but had no one to share it with? He’d never realized how much he’d actually included Abby in his plans—never, until now, when it was clear that she would never be in them. It all seemed so pointless.

About an hour later, the flight finally took off. Logan glanced at his watch, imagining Abby boarding her own plane, getting ready to take off. He sighed quietly, closing his eyes, imagining what it would have been like. He imagined the children, the house, the wife. He saw Abby smiling at him—smiling as she used to, many years ago. He imagined laying next to her in bed, trailing his fingers over the smooth skin of her stomach.

The plane around him jolted a few times, disturbing him from his peaceful imagery. He looked around, wondering what was going on. Stewardesses were rushing back and forth, whispering urgently to one another. “Pardon the commotion, folks. It seems we’ve hit a bit of a rough patch.” The pilot announced over the intercom, but Logan tuned him out, returning to his daydream.

He brought Blake and Hayley back, imagining their children running around in the backyard. Their laughter was so melodious—everyone melding together. A longing filled his chest and Logan cursed reality. It shouldn’t be like this. He should be living this life—he should be with her. They should be tucking their kids into bed at night and arguing about what to have for dinner. Blake and Hayley should be there, too.

It was all wrong. All of it.

Another wave of turbulence passed and Logan opened his eyes, growing more concerned. The pilot came back over the intercom. “Pardon us again, folks, but it seems things are worse than we originally thought. We’re receiving word from Air Traffic Control that all flights in the area are to be grounded immediately. We’ll be nearing our stop shortly, so if all would please prepare for landing…”

Logan looked out the window, his eyes narrowing. They were flying directly above what appeared to be some very vicious weather. The plane shook violently once more. Well, he thought, if the plane goes down—I’m going down happy.

And with that, he closed his eyes again, returning the images of his alternate reality.

~*~

Abby stared in the mirror of the airplane’s bathroom.

It was strange, she thought, that she didn’t recognize the person staring back at her at all now. A transformation that had seemingly begun with her eyes had spread throughout the rest of her appearance. She seemed so…empty. She appeared to be put-together quite well, wearing a pair of black pants and a simple white top, layered over a dark colored tank top. Her hair was perfectly placed, her makeup well-done.

Though she had cried throughout most of the drive to the airport, her eyes were no longer red, the swelling gone. But they were lifeless. Utterly vacant, without a single spark. She couldn’t even see the marks of pain and loss in them anymore.

She was a completely different person. A robot, she realized.

A sudden shudder of the plane caused Abby to lose her balance and she reached out, trying to steady herself. Someone knocked at the door and she shook her head, wondering how long she had occupied the small restroom. She apologized as she exited, making her way back to her seat.

A movie was playing, but she couldn’t pay attention. It was some sort of romantic comedy, and for some reason, the thought of watching it caused a wave of nausea to pass through her.

They hit more turbulence, but Abby barely noticed. She was lost among her thoughts—trying to organize them, attempting to separate the good from the