Chapter 60
“That was easier,” I say in all honesty. “Reading it aloud like that. It was almost like we were back there again at the tattoo parlor. And that made the other part less painful.”
“The part at The Cowherd?” he asks me.
“Yeah.” I make a face. “You know I don’t like reminiscing too much.”
“Do you think this is necessary? To go back through all of it?”
“For some reason, I do.”
“You’re an incredible writer, you know.”
“You think so?” I smile at him. “Should I read you another one?”
He hesitates. And I know why.
Because parts of that entry felt like…foreplay.
And somehow, this moment feels different than our other times together. Maybe because in a short while, Logan will be married and all these nights will be in the past.
The ache in my chest grows bigger, but Logan breaks the silence.
“Sure. Read another one.”
“Okay.”
I’m still sixteen, but this year has been a lot of firsts, so I decided to write again even though it’s only May.
Mr. Torsen complimented me on my short story I wrote for English class.
He said it showed character and a unique voice, and he specifically said that I’m not afraid to let go with my writing and he hopes to read more from me in the future.
I think he’s bluffing for sure, but even bluffs feel good sometimes.
I went over to Logan’s to tell him the good news. He was painting, and I sat and waited for him to finish, and then he grabbed my hand and asked me to walk with him in the wildflower patch behind the ranch.
Oh no. I stop reading and bite my cheek. I never should have started this entry. It’s far too—
“Intimate?” Logan’s voice cuts through my harried thoughts.
I make eye contact with him, and he smiles fondly. “I remember this day.”
“But I’ve barely started to read it. How could you—”
“I remember every moment with you.”
Shit.
He taps my leg. “Read it. And don’t censor yourself.”
I can’t imagine getting the words out of my throat. I’m so turned on already and I don’t like to talk when I’m like this. I like to do other things, things that involve more touching and less speaking.
I manage a nod and return to the page.
It was a hot day out even though it was only the end of April, and I was wearing a new halter top and jean shorts.
Logan asked me where I got the top, and I told him Wal-Mart on sale, and he said it looked a lot sexier than Wal-Mart.
I turned away so he wouldn’t see me smile—I didn’t want him to think I was high on myself or something.
We sat down under a shade tree to rest, and Logan asked if I was still seeing Tucker Strom, the senior.
I told him no, that Tucker had behaved in a very ungentlemanly manner last week, and so I dumped him.
Logan nodded and looked away, and I asked him if he was dating Melinda.
The slutty sophomore who’s had her eye on Logan since she was thirteen and he was fifteen.
“Nope,” he said. “I got over that real quick.”
“Oh.” I peeled off the label on my water bottle, trying to distract myself from my attraction to him.
It had been nearly a year since we’d last made out, and I hadn’t thought we would again, necessarily. But then again, I always hoped we would.
Logan leaned in and kissed me but pulled back right away. “I don’t want to assume anything. If you don’t want to…”
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him then—with tongue.
And we lay down on the grass, right in between all the wildflowers that had all grown up so nice this spring, and we grew a little ourselves.
At least third base’s worth. And I couldn’t believe I’d dated Tucker all those weeks and never once felt this good.
Not that I let him touch me this way. I’d never gone this far before, but Logan is different. He makes me feel safe. And aroused.
I stop again, my face so hot I can’t believe the sun’s not shining on it.
I close my eyes and take a long, slow breath.
Logan’s hands on my waist and between my thighs—the memory is hitting me so hard I have to keep my legs tightly closed so they won’t tremble.
Parts of me that always only turn on for Logan are screaming to be satisfied.
He’s watching me.
“Logan, this is awkward…”
His breath is heavy. “I’m the guy in the story, for Christ’s sake. How can you be embarrassed to read something about us in front of us?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. I just am. I’m shy.”
Logan’s mouth is laughing along with his eyes. I haven’t seen him this himself since Gigi came along, and I want to keep seeing that.
“Look,” he says. “When you become a novelist, you’re going to have to do public readings. And you told me you’re planning to have romance in your books. So think of this as good practice.”
“Like we’re characters in a novel,” I say.
“Exactly. Just two people you wrote about.”
I return to the diary.
When Logan took off my halter top and kissed my breasts, I nearly came apart inside. I thought my heart would burst. And when he unzipped my shorts and slipped his hand inside—oh God, I could hardly stop from screaming.
“Tell me what you like, Macey,” he whispered as he looked into my eyes. “Move my hand where you want it.”
I closed my eyes. “I like what you’re doing right now.”
Logan’s breath is ragged now, and I’m exhaling so heavily I have to fight to control the volume as I curl my toes inside my boots and try to keep reading in a level tone of voice.
And as he moved his fingers until they reached a place no boy had ever been, I exploded from the inside out. My legs shook, and I clung to Logan’s neck with my arms.
“Was that okay?” he asked me, his eyes focused on mine. “Your little sighs were so amazing.”
“It was perfect.”
I reached over and pulled off his shirt so I could run my hands down his bare chest. And when I reached the buttons on his jeans, I didn’t stop.
“I don’t know how to touch you,” I said softly into his mouth. “I just love the way you feel.”
Logan’s hips bucked off the blanket as my fingers found their way below the elastic of his boxers.
“Oh, God, Macey, do that again.”
And I did until he cried out like I had a few minutes before. He buried his face in my neck and put his hand on my back as he whispered, “I’ll never have another first time. I want to lie like this as long as we can.”
I wanted to lie with him forever. I wanted him to touch me again and again. But I knew I couldn’t ask for more. Logan Wild could become an addiction, and addictions are dangerous.
When we finally stood up, I felt a little wobbly in the knees, and Logan held my elbow while I steadied myself.
I laughed, and he did, too. We walked back to his house and said good-bye at the end of his driveway.
He kissed me on the lips and asked me to fish with him and Blake tomorrow.
And I kissed him one last time before I jumped into my car and drove off.
I cried all night. I sobbed, if I’m being honest. Because I missed him already. And I know I can’t—pursue anything.
We’re friends—best friends—who trust each other.
Anything else could get awfully complicated, and I’ve watched my parents far too closely to ever want complicated in my own love life.
“Keep it simple.” That’s what Mama told me.
And even though she didn’t, I agree with her on this one. Simple is best.
I can’t look up when I finish.
But Logan takes my chin in his hand and raises my head gently. His eyes are troubled, as much as he’s trying not to show it.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he says. “So sad afterward. You never said anything.”
“I know. I just—you know, I’m not great at the sharing part. I like to keep the bars on my heart.”
His breath catches in his throat, and he moves his hand to my cheek.
When his phone goes off in his pocket like a fire alarm, we both jump back.
He pulls out his phone and looks at the screen. “Hi, Gigi.”
Logan’s eyes haven’t left my face, but I look away, breaking the contact between us.
I close my diary and fiddle with the lock and key before carefully putting the book away in my purse.
“Yep, I remember. I’m heading to bed soon. Sleep well.”
After Logan’s hung up, he stands up and puts out his hand to me. “Let’s walk through the fields.”
That sounds dangerous. Especially after how close we just came to…
“I don’t know. I think maybe I should stay here.”
“In your prison?” he says. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I take his hand and try to ignore the way holding it makes me feel even when it’s only meant in friendship. By the time we’ve reached the first fence of his family’s ranch, I have to let go because it’s too much. He doesn’t try to stop me, and I climb over the wire and wait for him to do the same.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask as we cut across the burned out grass.
“You’ll see.”
When he turns left and heads for his cottage, I laugh. “Yeah, I’ve seen this before.”
“Not what’s inside. Come on.” He increases his pace to the stone pathway and then walks up the two steps to his front door, pulling out his keys.
By the time I catch up, he’s already inside.
“I haven’t been here in months…” I start to say before I see what he’s done.
Paintings are everywhere. All over the front room. On stands, on the couch, hanging on the walls. Oils, acrylics, watercolors, depicting West Texas, Hill Country, and the rivers and lakes. “Logan. You must have over…”
“Over twenty of them,” he says. “I did a lot on my trip but some here also. Before I left, you know.”
I didn’t, actually. I didn’t know how far he’d come since I last saw him paint.
“I remember sitting on that tree stump by the back pasture and watching you paint the sky,” I say almost to myself. “Wow. I’m so proud of you, Logan. You’re incredibly talented. And this is just…” I gesture with my hand around the room. “Amazing. But you always were. Even before I saw all of this.”
He swallows hard and tries to thank me, but all he gets out is, “Yeah, well…”
I step closer to him. “What are you gonna do with all of them? Will you sell them like you always dreamed of doing?”
Logan kneels down and reaches behind the couch. “Not this one. This one’s a gift. For your birthday. I’ll be a little busy on July fourth this year, so I have to give it to you earlier than I planned on.”
When he hands it to me, my tears come immediately, and I can’t hold them back.
“It’s the red rains,” I say in a sob. “By the creek.”
“You wouldn’t let me give you the painting I did all those years ago of us by the lake,” Logan says. “So I finally painted you a companion piece.”
“This is perfect,” I whisper.
With the rain all around us and the muddy bank at our bare feet, two people, two little people—younger than we actually were when this moment happened—stand, hand in hand, at the water’s edge. Looking fearless, far more so than I’ve ever felt in my life.
“I made us younger on purpose,” Logan says as he looks with me. “I did it as if…”
“As if it was the first time we ever met.” I finish his sentence for him, knowing exactly what he means.
I can still smell the rain and hear the turgid water rushing down over the town’s failed attempt to dam it up.
This is the most beautiful gift anyone’s ever given me. It’s truly priceless. My tears keep spilling out from under my eyelids.
“Hey now.” Logan leans over and kisses my head. “Don’t water the painting. I don’t know how to talk to you right now, Macey. I don’t know how to tell you that I …”
But I look into his eyes, and I know. I know what we’ve shared, what we’ve been through together, and I know that he knows it, too. And in this moment, that’s enough.