Chapter 32 Logan
LOGAN
I didn’t know what day it was. It could’ve been Tuesday. Or Sunday. Or something in between. Time had blurred into a long, gray smear of nothing.
I hadn’t picked up my phone in days. I moved like I was underwater—slow, aimless. Eat something, maybe. Try to sleep, fail. Try again. Wake up feeling worse. Rinse, repeat.
The only time I felt anything was when I sat at the piano by the window. I didn’t play anything, but just sitting there was a bit of a comfort, somehow.
Just then, a knock came. It was a hard rap.
I ignored it. Like I’d ignored everything else.
Then I heard the key turn, and the door opened. Mick stepped inside, holding a paper bag and a six-pack of beer. He didn’t say anything at first. Just dropped the bag on the counter and surveyed the wreckage. A few empty bottles. A pile of takeout containers. The ghost of someone he used to know.
After a moment, he nodded toward the guitar in the corner. “Still not picking it up?”
“I don’t have anything left to say,” I muttered.
“You do. Just say the thing you haven’t said yet,” he said. “It’s there, but you’re just holding back.”
I pushed the blanket off and sat up. “What do you want, Mick?”
“I want my friend back. The one who doesn’t let rejection turn him into a ghost with a drinking problem.”
My jaw clenched. “Don’t.”
“You’re not just heartbroken, Logan,” he said, voice lower now. “You’re hiding.”
I stood up. “What’s the point? The one person I let in saw all of me and walked away.”
Mick didn’t flinch. “And now what? You punish yourself for trusting her?”
“No.” I looked down. “I punish myself because I was stupid enough to believe she would want me.”
He leaned in, voice steady. “You’ve spent your whole life proving your worth—to your dad, to everyone.
..and now to Elizabeth. But let me tell you that there are plenty of us who already think you’re great.
Maybe it’s time you stopped trying to earn your value from the few who don’t see it and just be yourself. ”
Something inside me clenched. I hated how easily he could say it, like I could just flip a switch and stop feeling like I was constantly chasing something I’d never catch.
Mick sighed, leaning back. “You know what I think?”
“No, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.”
He smirked. “I think you’re mad at Elizabeth for the wrong reasons.”
I scoffed. “She was willing to let me marry someone else.”
“She made a mistake,” Mick said bluntly. “But she believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself. She’s the one who stuck around when you were being a nightmare. And it was more than a job for her—anyone could see that. That’s someone who gives a darn.”
I swallowed hard, looking away.
“She saw you, Logan,” he went on. “Not perfectly. But she tried. She wanted you. Just… on her terms.”
I scoffed. “That’s messed up. Even I know you have to compromise. If she wanted me—”
“If you wanted her,” Mick cut in, “you’d get out of here and do something about it. Or, if you wanted to get over her, you would.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Mick raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it? The way you talk about Elizabeth’s choices, it sounds pretty black and white when it’s her making the decisions.”
That shut me up. Then Mick walked over, grabbed the guitar, and shoved it into my hands.
I stared at it. Heavy. Familiar. Distant.
I sat down with the guitar in my lap, fingers hovering over the strings. I didn’t strum. I just sat there with it, as if maybe if I held still long enough, it would remind me who I used to be.
Mick didn’t say anything right away. Just watched me like he was trying to piece something together. Then: “You both knew it wasn’t going to last.”
I blinked. “What?”
“She wasn’t going to let you stay married to Sophie forever, Logan. Come on. She just… wanted to finish the plan. Do the job. Keep the train on the tracks.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s worse.”
“You were about to blow your life up in the middle of the biggest spotlight of your career. She didn’t want to make it worse. She thought she was doing the right thing.”
“So did I,” I whispered. “I thought she saw me. Like, really saw me. And maybe that’s what broke me the most. I thought she saw all the mess and didn’t flinch. Turns out she was just concerned about trying to clean it up.”
Mick leaned forward. “I know you. The only way you’ll feel better is to write a song. Write what you feel. Even if no one hears it but you.”
My throat tightened. I wanted to argue. But he was right.
“You want to hate her for not choosing you?” he said. “I don’t think that’s what happened, but if you’re convinced, at least don’t let her take your voice away.”
I didn’t say anything. He stood and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and I hope to hear what you come up with.”
He left. And for once, the silence didn’t feel like it was trying to bury me.
I sat there for a while. Just breathing. I hadn’t just lost her. I’d lost myself. And I was the only one who could pull me out.
My fingers found the strings. One chord. Then another. Rough. Hesitant.
But real.
It wasn’t a song about her leaving. It was about what it meant to love her. The way she laughed when she wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t pretty. Or polished. But it was mine. I wasn’t writing for the label. Or the press.
I was writing for myself.
And it didn’t sound like heartbreak.
It sounded like coming back to life.