When Love Breaks (25 page)

20

ELORA

D
aylight breaks through the windows of our little house in the trees, as if to gently nudge me awake. I stretch and yawn, feeling very well rested. The sheets, which pool around me, cover my bare body, and I can’t help but notice that I’ve managed to steal most of the covers from Logan, who remains asleep. His back is too me, and I sigh as I admire his finely sculpted, naked form. I reach out and gently stroke his back and watch as his muscles ripple beneath my fingers. He stirs and turns onto his back, giving me the full view of his—

“Enjoying the view?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Hi,” I squeak. I’ve been caught staring. He smiles as if he’s just found me with my hand in the cookie jar. Rolling the rest of the way over, he faces me.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Very,” I say with a sly smile.

“Mm. Me too. I slept especially well, after last night’s exertions.” He winks.

“Yes. It was…exceptionally good.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“My little exhibitionist. Who would’ve thought?”

I giggle.

“I didn’t know I had it in me,” I say, grinning from ear to ear. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Check out is at eleven. After that, I thought we’d go to my place. We can talk on the ride home about how to spend the rest of the day.” He looks down at the sheet which has inadvertently been pulled away from my body, then he looks hungrily back into my eyes. “But, before we do anything else…” He launches himself on top of me, and nuzzles his stubbly chin into my neck. I laugh and protest, but eventually surrender to his insatiable intentions.

The drive home is bitter sweet. Logan and I had such a good time, I just don’t want it to end. He holds my hand, as we make the one-hour trip back to reality.

“You’re getting really good at this,” I say.

“Good at what?”

“Driving. It must feel great to get even more of your freedom back.”

“Yes, it does. I feel almost back to normal.” He glances briefly over at me. “Yet another feat I have you to thank for.”

“Me? How did I help get you back on the road?”

“Well, I was worried about you, so I was forced to get into my car and drive. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d even make it to the end of my street.” He chuckles and shakes his head.

“And look at you now,” I say with pride.

“Yes, look at me now.” He smiles broadly and squeezes my hand.

“Hey, why don’t you drop me off at my apartment. I’ll pick up my car and meet you at your house. That way, I can grab a quick shower and a change of clothes.”

“Okay. That’ll give me time to chase Michael out,” he says with a grin.

Poor Michael.

LOGAN

I
watch out the window as an unfamiliar vehicle pulls into my driveway. Upon further inspection, I see Elora behind the wheel, and it dawns on me that I’ve never seen her vehicle before. She’s always driven Daniel’s car for the convenience of being more handicap accessible. It’s an older model, SUV, but it looks to be in decent shape, although I hear it backfire just before she turns off the engine. I decide to meet her outside.

“Is this what you drive?”

She nods and seems embarrassed.

“Yes, unfortunately.” She rolls her eyes. “After I’m done with school, and hopefully get a full time job, I hope to be able to afford to buy something a bit newer—one that’s not so vocal,” she says, then laughs uneasily.

“Do you want me to take a look at it? It might be something simple.”

“Have at it. I’m clueless,” she says, as she directs me to the hood.

I ask her to pop the latch, and after fiddling around under the dashboard, she finally finds the lever. She then comes to stand beside me as I take a look.

“Everything looks fine. I don’t see any obvious reason behind the backfires. I’ve checked almost every hose I could reach, and aside from adjusting the timing, I’d say you’ll need to take it to a shop.” She slumps against the driver’s side door.

“It’s gotten to the point that it might be more expensive to fix it rather than to just buy a new one.”

I wipe my hands on a rag that was stuffed just inside the hood, then sling a sympathetic arm around her.

“We’ll figure something out. Come on, let’s go inside.”

I lead her toward the door, but she stops abruptly.

“Oh, I forgot I brought some extra clothes with me…in case I was coerced into staying the night.” She lifts one eyebrow at me as if to dare me to deny that I might be thinking about it. I smile guiltily.

“I’ll get your bag,” I say. After all, it’s the least I can do. She follows me to the back of the car and opens the hatch.

“Is this it?” She nods. “How long do you plan on staying?” I say in jest, pretending it’s heavy. Secretly, I’m hoping she has several days’ worth in here.

“Ha ha, very funny. I could just as easily go home tonight, you know.” She gives me her best look of warning, and I laugh.

“Not a chance.”

I lift the bag out and close the hatch, turning to walk toward the house, when a flash of color catches my eye. I glance down at her bumper to spy a small sticker. It’s turquoise in color with a picture of a porpoise on it. It simply says,
I love dolphins
, and I can’t help but get the feeling that I’ve seen it somewhere before. Wracking my brain, I begin to walk toward my house. Suddenly, immeasurable pain lances through me, and I drop her bag to grab my head. I cry out from the torment, as a memory comes through from a day I’ll never forget. I feel Elora rush to my side as I slump to the ground, hitting my knees against the concrete in the process.

“Logan! What’s wrong? What can I do?” Her frantic voice begs me for information, just as flashes of memories come charging through my brain.

A highway.

Taillights.

Screeching tires.

The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline.

I’m watching in slow motion as the vehicle to the side of me begins to change lanes. They’re not stopping. I’ve run out of road. I swerve to avoid the collision, but as my tires meets the gravel on the berm, I can feel my front tire begin to wobble uncontrollably. I stiffen and grab tightly onto the handlebars, trying desperately to regain control, just as I did all those months ago—just before being forced off the road by the SUV…with a dolphin bumper sticker.

I gasp for air as, slowly, my physical agony relents, and I’m left with a horrible reality.

Was it her? It couldn’t be. She would’ve told me…wouldn’t she? I try to make sense of what I’ve just seen, but I’m crushed by the gravity of it all.

Was she the one who caused the accident that took my legs?

I glance up at her concerned eyes, but I don’t know what to say. I’m terrified of the answers I seek.

“Logan, talk to me. What’s going on? Are you okay?” She gently caresses my face in an attempt to wake me from whatever nightmare she thinks I’m in. She has no idea what I’ve just uncovered. Hesitantly, I open my mouth to speak.

“Was it…
you?
” My voice is raw and resembles that of a frightened child. “Tell me it wasn’t you.
Please
,” I beg her.

She’s puzzled, as she tries to decipher my words.

“I don’t know what you mean. What are you talking about?”

She’s shaking her head, completely clueless, and for a split second, I’m jealous. She doesn’t know what I’m asking. Her world is as it was, before she arrived at my house today. She has no idea how her world—
our world,
is about to come crashing down.

“The accident. Was it you? Were you driving on the road the day I lost my legs?” I manage to ask, though I’m not even sure it’s audible. I’m praying she says
no
. I’m hoping to see innocence wash over her face at my questions, but when her face falls and turns pale…I know.

I cry out again, this time from the anguish of knowing that the one person in this world who I love the most, was the one who took everything from me. Rising to my feet, I pass her in pursuit of the safety of my house. I hear her footsteps as she follows me inside.

“Logan, wait!” she says, trying desperately to divulge some ridiculous excuse, no doubt, but I don’t want to hear it. I swing the door to close it, but she catches it and enters. “
Please
.”

I turn abruptly, startling her in the process.

“Please what? What could you possibly say to explain what you did? How could you look me in the face, month after month, and
lie
to me?” My breaths come out as if I’ve just run a marathon, as I wait for her reply.

“I—I don’t know what to say.” She shakes her head as tears roll down her cheeks. “I’m…sorry.” The word
sorry
comes out as barely a whisper, as she bows her head. My instinct is to hold her—to comfort her, but I can’t do it this time. It hurts to want to ease her pain, and make her feel the pain I felt, at the same time.

I stride toward the kitchen table and lean over, gripping its edges. My knuckles grow paler as the seconds tick by.

“Tell me about it. What do you remember about that day?” My voice is menacingly soft. I’m sure I must be scaring her, but I don’t care. I want answers. I turn my head slightly, and she comes into my peripheral view. She’s standing where I left her; her head is still bowed. Her silence causes even more fury to rise up, until I can’t take it anymore. I walk back over to her and roughly lift her chin. Looking into her sorrowful eyes only fuels the fire that shows no signs of stopping. “Tell me what you remember,” I say with my teeth gritted. “You owe me that much.” We stare at each other until finally, her mouth opens.

“It was a warm day in October. The sun was setting behind me. I was coming home from…somewhere, and I remember thinking about how unusual it was that the road was so empty at that time of day. I needed to exit the highway, so I looked back, saw it was clear, and changed lanes. Suddenly, there was a terrible sound. I looked back but the sun was in my eyes. I didn’t see what had made the noise. Still, I pulled off to the side of the road just to make sure. That’s when I saw the smoke. It was coming from the berm. I was about to go investigate, when I saw a car pull over and park. The driver got out and ran to the scene. I knew there was nothing I could do, so, in a panic, I put the car back in drive, and I left.” She gazes into my eyes again, regret washing over her beautiful face. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “I had no idea it was you. It never even crossed my mind that
your
accident took place outside of a military zone. You never wanted to talk about it, and I never pushed the issue. I just assumed you were injured while deployed.”

Her hands cover her face as she weeps into them. I close my eyes briefly and step back, afraid of what I might say or do, if I don’t reign in my rampant temper. My heart tries desperately to tell me it was just a freak accident, but my head screams out for justice. How could she, knowing that she caused a horrific accident, just drive away? It doesn’t make sense, knowing her the way I do. I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it.

I absentmindedly plop down onto a kitchen chair, trying to understand. She slowly comes to stand in front of me. I’m staring at her feet. What does she want from me? Forgiveness? She says nothing, and I wonder what’s going on in her mind. Does she regret it?

Good God, Logan, of course she does; she’s not an animal.

As we stand at a stalemate, I continue to watch her feet. Her toes wiggle as her natural balance is kept in check. That’s something I’ll never again get to do. I lean forward, resting my forehead in my hands, while grasping handfuls of my hair.

“I need you to leave,” I say, as calmly as I can muster. I hear her quietly gasp.

“Logan, I—”

“You need to go!” I’m losing the grip on my temper again.

“But—”

“
Get out!
” I say, forcefully, as my head swings up to glare at her. I watch her horrified expression as she moves back a step, then two, then I watch as she quietly turns and moves toward the front door. The sound of it latching behind her both satisfies me, and tears my heart out, in equal shares.

Her car’s engine roars to life, but I can’t watch her leave. Both my life, and my hell, began with her, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive her.

ELORA

I
race into my apartment and throw myself onto my bed. I’m a blubbering mess, before my head hits the mattress. I wail tears so hot that I’m sure my face will never recover. I’ve lost him. I’ve lost him for good this time. There’s nothing I could ever say or do to make up for the fact that his legs are gone. My guilt from that day resurfaces, and I can hardly stand to be in my own skin. What am I going to do?

I cry and cry, for hours it seems, until my head is ready to explode. Finally, I sit up, wiping the last few stray tears from my cheeks, and I lean against the headboard in a daze. I’ve never felt so lonely in all my life. I just want these memories to be gone. The look on his face was one I hope to never see on anyone I love ever again. He was desolate and angry, and it’s my fault. My thoughts turn against me, and I come to the bleak realization that we’re done. I can never hold him again, never kiss his lips, never feel his arms surround me again. He’ll never forgive me. Why would he? Tears threaten, but I need to hold myself together. Daniel will be home soon, and I don’t want him to see me like this.

I no sooner think it, when I hear Daniel’s arrival. I quickly jump to my feet and dash into the bathroom. When splashing cold water on my reddened face fails to hide my sorrow, I decide to take a shower in hopes that time will remedy my appearance. I hear him near the bathroom door as I step in under the water.

“Kind of early for you to take a shower. I thought for sure you’d be over Logan’s house.” he says, teasing me. “Uh…he’s not…in there with you…is he?”

“No. He had somewhere to be, so I just came home,” I lie.

“Well, don’t take forever in there. There’s only one bathroom, you know.”

I snort at the uninvited image of my brother crossing his legs and hopping up and down while waiting for me to finish.

After Daniel walks away, I let the warm water rain down on my face as I think of what story to tell him. He’ll start to wonder why I’m no longer going over to Logan’s house. I’ll need something plausible to keep Daniel from wanting to storm over there and save the day. When I’m fairly certain my face is relatively back to normal, I exit the bathroom to get dressed, then walk into the living room and find my brother sitting on the couch.

“How was work?” I ask on my way through to the kitchen. He eyes me suspiciously.

“Fine,” he says cautiously. “Have you been crying?”

Damn it.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Because you look like you’ve been crying. What’s wrong?” He stands and walks over to me. I keep my head down, but he’s hard to fool. “You
have
been crying. What did he do
now?
” His irritation is apparent.

“Oh, just calm down. I’m fine,” I say. “Yes, I’ve been crying, but it’s PMS. You know how women get. We had a small fight, and we’re taking a break. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s no big deal…really.” I do my best to convince him that I’m telling truth, and for the most part, I think he believes me.

“Are you sure?”

“
Yes!
For God’s sake.
I’m sure!
”

“Okay, okay,” he says while holding his hands up. “You’re right about the PMS. I’m beginning to feel sorry for the guy,” he mumbles under his breath as he walks back into the living room.