Perfectly Damaged

I let out a hard laugh, rolling my eyes playfully. “Thank God this isn’t a date. You saved me from your long line of cliché bullshit.”

He chuckles. The corners of his eyes wrinkle slightly when his mouth spreads into a white, toothy grin. Those strong, chiseled features…they’re kind of gorgeous.

God.

I like him. Logan. I like that he’s not so intense. I like that he knows when to stop asking questions. I like how he turns a serious situation around and finds humor in it. I like his silly personality. I like that he’s funny. I like that he makes me laugh. I like the crooked grin he gives me when he’s being cocky. I even admit that I like that stupid Phillies baseball cap he wears all the time. It looks good on him.

Dammit.

I just like…him.

“Have I told you I was the fucking king of the monkey bars back in preschool?” he asks.

You see what I mean?

I bite my lip, resisting the urge to just melt for this man. He makes me feel young. I know that may sound ridiculous because I’m only twenty-one, but the past few years have aged me in inexplicable ways. But Logan, he makes me feel my age. I feel vibrant and alive when I’m with him.

I shake my head to answer his monkey bar question.

“Well, allow me to show you the moves that earned me the title.”

He stands from the swing, reaching his hand out to me. I look up, smile, and grab it. The palm of my hand meeting his is a welcome sensation, and our fingers lock between one another’s. We walk and I silently note how small my hand is in his large, calloused one. It feels perfect. It feels so right. It feels like they belong together.

Two lost pieces of a puzzle, finally meeting their match.

I’m so screwed.

Logan’s truck slowly approaches my house. It was getting dark out, so we decided to call it a night. I’ve learned a bit more about him this evening, which only makes him that much more appealing to me. It’s scary how two people can so easily fall into the get-to-know-you process, where they confess all these things they’ve never told anyone else. Except there’s one tiny issue—a secret one of them is afraid the other might be turned off by. That’s my reality. And I’m sure Logan has a secret too. He has to, there’s no way he’s the perfect guy he portrays himself to be. There’s no way he’s this open and honest about himself. He must be holding something back, just like I am.

Rocks crunch under slowing tires, truck shifts into park, a seatbelt clicks.

I look over at Logan. He twists in his seat to face me, a smile set on his face. “So, I had fun.”

I match his grin. “Me too.”

“What are your plans for tomorrow? I’d like to hang out with you again. Like around five, since that’s when my shift ends. It’s not like I have a far drive to pick you up or anything.”

Laughing, I unbuckle my seatbelt, eyes still on him. “Well, if you were paying any attention over the past three hours, you’d remember that I have no life since I don’t work or go to school. So yeah, my plans for tomorrow will probably be sitting by the pool or hanging in my room, watching awful reality television.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Yikes. Bad reality TV is a waste of life if you ask me. Why do that when you can be doing something much more fun?”

“As in?”

“As in hanging out with me tomorrow. Same time. What do you say?”

I hold back a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” God, he’s so damn good-looking.

I tear my stare away, my eyes focusing on a small photo hanging from the rearview mirror. I didn’t see it before. Then again, I wasn’t really paying attention. I reach out and grab it, leaning in to have a better look. It’s a picture of a younger Logan with his arms posed wide open and a big goofball grin on his face. I can tell it’s him. He looks slimmer and shorter, but it’s definitely him with those same vibrant blue eyes. Beside him, posing the exact same way, is a guy a bit taller and more muscular than Logan. The unknown guy is wearing a Phillies baseball cap—an exact replica of Logan’s. “Who’s that?” I ask, pointing at the guy in the picture.

“That’s my brother, Sean, wearing his favorite stupid hat.” My stomach sinks. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I feel like an ass. Pushing down my fear of making a fool out of myself, I look back at Logan. His smile is still there, just a bit wider. Reaching up, he tugs the rim of the cap. “Which is now my favorite,” he adds.

“I…um…shit…” I shut my eyes, breathe in and out, then flash them open. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

Logan chuckles, a low rumble deep within his chest. “It’s fine. Seriously. I didn’t get offended. Most people would, but I’m not like most people.”

“No. You’re certainly not.” I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the humiliation of the moment. “If it were me, I’d probably punch you in the face.”

He laughs again. “I kind of get the feeling you’re not kidding.”

“No. Not when it comes to something personal like that. To others it may seem like it’s just an item, nothing special, but it’s a keepsake for you. You know?” He nods. “I had a bracelet Brooke had given me as a graduation gift. I lost it the night you found me in the pool.”

“Is that what you were freaking out about?”

“Yes. It’s something I never left home without, and losing it was like losing a piece of her.”

Logan’s forehead creases in confusion. “Wait. Was it some type of gold charm bracelet or something like that?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Santino found one by the pool when we were prepping on our first day. He gave it to your mother.”

“What?” My hands grip the dashboard so hard my knuckles turn white.

Logan looks nervous—or scared. I have no idea how I look right now, but I’m sure I look like I’m about to beat someone with a bat. “Yeah, your mother thanked Santino for bringing it to her and took off with it.”

Red. All I see is red. I jump out of the truck and slam the car door.

“Jenna?” Logan shouts out, but I keep going. My legs have a mind of their own. I have no idea how they’re moving, how they’re pushing, because my head is empty. Completely deserted. There are no thoughts whatsoever, just one image I keep seeing over and over again: my mother’s face.

Trembling, I open the door and dart into the house. My chest is heaving, my heart beating wildly, but my mind is clear.