Fic: Drying Out (LoVe)-R for language
Fic Title: Drying Out
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 3007
Pairing: LoVe
Spoilers: Everything thus far plus a very mild spoiler for Season 3
Summary: Logan finally checks into rehab and must confront those that he has wronged while drunk. Enter Veronica…
A/N: written for the Veronica Mars ficathon where the only requirements were “LoVe angst, no Duncan, no character death”. I have no actual knowledge of The Camp Recovery Center-I found everything online-so if I get something wrong, don’t hold it against me. Also, so much love to my beta taken_with_you for the awesome job and just being fabulous in general
A/N2: Inspired by the song “Call Me When You’re Sober” by Evanescence This might have a sequel, so if you like it, let me know.
“Sweetie, there’s mail for you!” Keith Mars called over his shoulder as Veronica entered the apartment and headed towards her bedroom without even stopping to say hello. She had become more and more withdrawn in the past week, ever since the phone calls had started at precisely 7PM every night. He knew that he shouldn’t give her the letter with the Scotts Valley postmark, knew that it might just upset her more, but if she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, then she should be the one to make that decision.
With a sigh, Veronica turned on her heel and accepted the cream colored envelope. The moment she saw the symbol in the return address corner, she froze, as if the words “The Camp Recovery Center” were her kryptonite. Her hands trembled for a moment before she crumpled it into a tight ball and threw it into the trash can.
“Veronica-“
“Don’t.”
“Veronica-“
“Dad, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You haven’t been talking about anything lately. Even Wallace said-“
“Wallace? What, have you been interrogating my friends? Should I call Cliff and have you read me my rights? I’m an adult now, Dad! You can’t just do that!”
Patience gone, Keith reached down and plucked the letter from the garbage, trying to smooth out the letter as best as he could. “You want me to treat you like an adult? Then you need to start acting like it! I know you’re angry and you’re hurt, and God knows that I can name about a thousand men I’d rather see you with, but you love him and he needs you.”
Scoffing, she retorted, “He doesn’t need anything but Dick and tequila.”
“Then don’t hear him out! Don’t find out if he’s trying to get better, if he wants to apologize! Live the rest of your life wondering if there was something you could’ve said or done to fix your relationship and get back the person you love.” Pressing the rumpled paper to her chest, he softly finished, “Don’t end up like your mother and me.”
* * *
It called to her in her restless sleep, beckoning her with its messy handwriting and jerky sentences, urging her to go against every promise she had made herself and succumb to the temptation.
And if there was one thing Veronica had never been able to do, it was avoid the temptation that Logan offered. Any temptation, really...but his most especially. She was the curious little kitten and Logan was the cream.
The stationary bore the same logo as the envelope, the ink a bright garish red that when the words appeared blurry, Veronica realized with horror that it was because Logan had done what she swore he never would again. He was going to make her cry.
Dear Veronica,
You won’t talk when I call, so I figured I’d write a letter that you’ll probably shred, set on fire, and dance in the ashes of. I doubt you’ll see this. I can’t blame you. I know I hurt you with what I did. That’s why I’m writing.
I’m doing this group therapy thing here and we have to invite someone we’ve hurt with our addictions. I was hoping you’d come. If you don’t want to come, it’s ok. I understand. If you do, I bought you a plane ticket so you wouldn’t have to drive 9 hours. I hope you come. I miss you.
Love,
L
Veronica didn’t even realize that her tears had begun to fall until the ink began to smear on the paper, the hot blood of her heart.
* * *
Veronica would’ve admired the beauty of the area if not for the fact that she was about to visit her ex in rehab. She hadn’t seen Logan for nearly a month, not since he had started detox and rehab. The last time they had been together had been one of the worst nights of her life, and she had vowed that she would never go near him again, never allow herself to be that hurt again. She didn’t care how much she loved Logan Echolls; the only thing she had ever gotten from it was pain and torment.
So why was she here?
It was obvious who was there to visit; they moved cautiously, as if they were as unsure as Veronica about whether or not they wanted to be there. She was convinced that she had made a mistake, that she should just go back to the airport and catch the next plane back to San Diego, forgetting Logan and that this day had ever happened.
And then she saw him, the thinnest she had ever seen him, skin slowly returning to a healthy color, stubble covering his cheeks, but rather than make him look scruffy, it made him appear older, more matured. When he saw her, he tentatively raised his hand, giving a little wave, and Veronica hated the way that her heart began to beat double time. What was it about seeing him that always turned her into a blushing adolescent?
She wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to hug him or not, whether he expected a hug or not. Logan always wanted physical affection, even after his most supreme asshole behavior, and usually Veronica was willing, but lately…Ever since that last night they’d seen each other, she hadn’t wanted to see him, let alone touch him. Love or not, she refused to continue down the destructive path they were on.
He didn’t move to embrace her. Instead, he gave her a genuine half-smile, not his usual smirk, and said in a voice that was much softer than his usual tone, “I’m glad you came.”
At least one of them was.
* * *
There were nine other patients in Logan’s group, each with their own friend or family member that they had wronged during alcoholic binges. Twenty people plus the counselor were crammed into a room comfortable for ten, and Veronica could feel the tension crawling over her skin. The air was thick with emotions that hadn’t been brought out in the open, and, when she saw the counselor move two chairs to the center of the circle, real and true terror clutched her as she realized that everyone was going to hear what had happened between them.
Veronica hated emotional displays. They were messy and overwhelming and everything that she hated about her fragile, human self, and as such, she didn’t dwell on anything that was remotely affecting. To have to sit in the world’s most uncomfortable chair and watch the emotional carnage that remained after careless, alcoholic efforts…Veronica would rather spend the rest of her life ala Groundhog Day forever caught in a reel of almost being burned alive at the hands of Aaron Echolls.
“Welcome,” the counselor began. “As I’m sure you’ve been told, a part of any recovery is confronting those who you wronged while in the throes of your addiction. Your loved one asked you here today because they feel that they have hurt you the most out of everyone in their life.”
Veronica’s eyebrows nearly shot off her face. Out of everyone, he thought that he had hurt her the worst? She couldn’t exactly argue that he had definitely lashed out at her the most, but surely he had to have hurt other people too. But then, she realized with a start, Veronica was the only person he had left that wasn’t like Dick, that didn’t just tell him how fabulous he was and what a great idea downing another bottle of Jack Daniels was.
“Now, who wants to go first?”
Veronica nearly punched him when Logan raised his hand, wanting desperately to put this off for as long as she could. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to hear about Logan’s thoughts on their problems, let alone share them with all of these strangers, no matter how similar their situations were. But Veronica couldn’t just punk out now, so she obediently took a seat in the cold, metal folding chair, no cushion for her body or her heart.
“Logan, why don’t you tell…”
“Veronica,” he supplied.
“Veronica,” the counselor repeated, “why you brought her here today.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he decided on, “Because when I get drunk, I hurt you; I try to hurt you so that I can not hurt as much. I invited you because I ruined everything between us and you’re the most important person to me.”
“How does that make you feel to hear that, Veronica?” the big man with the Jerry Garcia beard queried, keeping his voice in what Veronica assumed he believed to be soft and soothing but was really just grating on her already thin patience.
“It makes me angry.”
“Why?”
This was worse than anything Ms. James had ever tried to do, and Veronica had to resist the very strong urge to roll her eyes. “Because he never takes the blame for anything; things are never his fault. It’s his parents or his friends or his addiction; it can never just be that he’s an asshole.”
Dr. Jerry Garcia nodded. “While your opinion is certainly valid, we’re trying not to use accusatory language or name calling in the circle.”
“Oh? Well, why don’t you ask Logan what he said to me before he admitted himself here? Why don’t you ask him the names he called me, and then you can lecture me on what I call him?”
“Veronica,” Logan began, his voice a little stronger than it had been earlier, “I know what I said was hurtful, but it was because I didn’t know how to deal with the things that were happening and I still felt victimized-“
“You’re always the victim! Well, you can’t be a victim if you don’t act like it!” She hated the tears that were catching in her throat but she knew there was no way she going to be able to hold them back, not now. With the salt water burning its way down her cheeks, she rasped out, “How could you say those things to me? How could you say…how could you tell me that I was the worst thing that had ever happened to you, that you regretted every minute? Why, after everything we’ve been through, would you tell me to go fuck myself and that I could die and you wouldn’t even miss me?! Why?!”
Logan’s own tears were flowing, his entire face shimmering with the liquid, and his shoulders were quaking with the effort to withhold his sobs. “When I saw you…When I saw you with that guy…he was making you laugh and he knows about your classes and I’m not…I’m not like that.”
“Piz? You did all of this because you’re jealous of Piz? If I wanted to be with him, I would be! I love you! I want to be with you! And I can’t because you’re not even with me when you are!”
“What does that mean?” he snapped, his own anger starting to replace the Zen-like state he had been trying to stay in during this visit.
“Guys...” Jerry Garcia started.
“It means that, on your list of priorities, I was never number one! It’s always your alcohol and your friends and jackass pranks and getting under Weevil’s skin and bucking authority! It was never just you and me with nothing else mattering! We couldn’t go one night without you turning away from me!”
“Because I know I’m not good enough for you! You’re Veronica-fucking-Mars, Hearst scholar, girl detective, savior of humanity, and who am I? I’m the son of a murderer! Everyone I know dies rather than stay with me! I’m fucking poison! Why do you even want that?!”
“Why did you even come back to me if you hate yourself that much?!”
“Logan, Veronica...”
“Because I love you so much that it kills me when you’re not with me! Because I don’t feel complete unless I’m with you! And I’m so angry that I can’t be what you need that I’d rather you hate me now than when you realize that I’m not good enough!”
“That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard in my life!”
“Well, that’s how I feel!”
“Why did you bring me up here? What was the point of this new heartbreak? Was I supposed to come see you all sober and listen to your ‘poor me, I’m not good enough for you’ speech and tell you it was okay, that every time you pull this it’s fine with me? Well, it’s not! You keep saying that you love me, but you can’t even look me in the eye when you say it! And I’m done! I’m glad you’re sober, I am, but I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” Getting to her feet, resolution in every movement, she whispered, “Call me when you’re ready to be an adult.”
“Wait, Veronica!” the counselor cried after her but she didn’t stop.
If she did, she was afraid that she’d completely break down.
* * *
“Do you ever wish that Mom would’ve sobered up and come back to us?” Veronica asked of Keith as he searched the living room for his car keys.
He paused, his quest momentarily interrupted. “I couldn’t want it for her; she had to want it for herself.”
“I know; I read the brochures too. I just…I don’t know. Do you think I chose Logan because he was like her?”
Finally locating his keys lodged beneath a sleeping Backup, he declared, “I’m not a psychologist, Veronica. All I know is that you need to make your decisions based on you and Logan, not your mother and me.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he ordered, “Try not to think yourself into a coma while I’m gone.”
“Ha. Ha.”
It had been two weeks since her disastrous trip to the rehab center, two weeks in which she began to question everything she had ever thought about her relationship with Logan. There had been no answers waiting for her in Scotts Valley, only more questions and heartache. How was she ever supposed to find her bearings when she was constantly being knocked around?
He was home now; she knew that. Mac had seen him at the counseling center near campus, the one where Veronica volunteered doing rape crisis work, the one that held AA meetings. It gave Veronica a strange sense of accomplishment that he was working his program; even though she played no part in it, she was proud of him, for him. But at the same time she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see him or not.
As she lied on the couch, Backup curled up beside her, she stared blankly at the television set, trying to make sense of her thoughts, knowing that there was no real answer there.
The knock startled her out of her reverie, and she rose slowly, as if her body was still trapped in the frozen state of her mind. But everything came completely awake as she stared at Logan on her doorstep, contrition on his face, a bouquet of pink roses in his arms.
“Logan...”
“Let me talk,” he requested, handing her the flowers as if they were something precious. “Just listen.”
She stayed silent.
“I look at you sometimes and all I can think about is how lucky I am that I have you, that you’re mine. And then there are times when I hear you talking about some new theory or book and you’re with him and I think that he’s the guy you should be with.”
“I don’t love Piz.”
“I’m scared of the day that you do.”
“Do you want me to stop being friends with him? Am I not supposed to have guy friends?”
“You said that when I’m with you, I’m still not, and I thought about it. I don’t give you everything because I’m scared you’re going to leave like everyone else. What if I give you everything and it’s still not enough?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”
Logan shook his head. “I know I can’t erase what I said that night at the Bridge. There’s no excuses; you were right about that. And I love you, Veronica. No matter what, please don’t doubt that. But…I can’t be with you or anyone right now. I have to get healthy and stay healthy and that has to be about me and nothing else.”
She didn’t want to be surprised by the searing in her heart but she was. Even though she understood it, she didn’t like it.
“I understand.”
“I’m not asking you to wait for me. I guess I’m just asking…Can you be my friend? Can we start over?”
Start over? Could she be the person he needed her to be right now, be a friend and not a lover when they had spent the last two years locked in a dance that was anything but friendly? How could she be his friend when every look, every touch, every breath was dripping with innuendo and promise and memory? Hadn’t they forgotten how to be friends long ago?
But she lied, “Of course,” because she knew that was what he needed to hear.
His lips were soft against her cheek, his new stubble scratching her skin as he breathed into her ear, “Thank you, Veronica.”
She put the roses in water, the pretty pink blossoms an explosion of color in the otherwise drab Mars kitchen. In a week’s time, they would wither and die and Keith would throw them out, but Veronica would save one dead blossom from the trash, keeping it hidden in the shoebox that was simply labeled Logan.
Just in case things ever changed, she wanted to keep the only flower he had ever given her.
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 3007
Pairing: LoVe
Spoilers: Everything thus far plus a very mild spoiler for Season 3
Summary: Logan finally checks into rehab and must confront those that he has wronged while drunk. Enter Veronica…
A/N: written for the Veronica Mars ficathon where the only requirements were “LoVe angst, no Duncan, no character death”. I have no actual knowledge of The Camp Recovery Center-I found everything online-so if I get something wrong, don’t hold it against me. Also, so much love to my beta taken_with_you for the awesome job and just being fabulous in general
A/N2: Inspired by the song “Call Me When You’re Sober” by Evanescence This might have a sequel, so if you like it, let me know.
“Sweetie, there’s mail for you!” Keith Mars called over his shoulder as Veronica entered the apartment and headed towards her bedroom without even stopping to say hello. She had become more and more withdrawn in the past week, ever since the phone calls had started at precisely 7PM every night. He knew that he shouldn’t give her the letter with the Scotts Valley postmark, knew that it might just upset her more, but if she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, then she should be the one to make that decision.
With a sigh, Veronica turned on her heel and accepted the cream colored envelope. The moment she saw the symbol in the return address corner, she froze, as if the words “The Camp Recovery Center” were her kryptonite. Her hands trembled for a moment before she crumpled it into a tight ball and threw it into the trash can.
“Veronica-“
“Don’t.”
“Veronica-“
“Dad, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You haven’t been talking about anything lately. Even Wallace said-“
“Wallace? What, have you been interrogating my friends? Should I call Cliff and have you read me my rights? I’m an adult now, Dad! You can’t just do that!”
Patience gone, Keith reached down and plucked the letter from the garbage, trying to smooth out the letter as best as he could. “You want me to treat you like an adult? Then you need to start acting like it! I know you’re angry and you’re hurt, and God knows that I can name about a thousand men I’d rather see you with, but you love him and he needs you.”
Scoffing, she retorted, “He doesn’t need anything but Dick and tequila.”
“Then don’t hear him out! Don’t find out if he’s trying to get better, if he wants to apologize! Live the rest of your life wondering if there was something you could’ve said or done to fix your relationship and get back the person you love.” Pressing the rumpled paper to her chest, he softly finished, “Don’t end up like your mother and me.”
* * *
It called to her in her restless sleep, beckoning her with its messy handwriting and jerky sentences, urging her to go against every promise she had made herself and succumb to the temptation.
And if there was one thing Veronica had never been able to do, it was avoid the temptation that Logan offered. Any temptation, really...but his most especially. She was the curious little kitten and Logan was the cream.
The stationary bore the same logo as the envelope, the ink a bright garish red that when the words appeared blurry, Veronica realized with horror that it was because Logan had done what she swore he never would again. He was going to make her cry.
Dear Veronica,
You won’t talk when I call, so I figured I’d write a letter that you’ll probably shred, set on fire, and dance in the ashes of. I doubt you’ll see this. I can’t blame you. I know I hurt you with what I did. That’s why I’m writing.
I’m doing this group therapy thing here and we have to invite someone we’ve hurt with our addictions. I was hoping you’d come. If you don’t want to come, it’s ok. I understand. If you do, I bought you a plane ticket so you wouldn’t have to drive 9 hours. I hope you come. I miss you.
Love,
L
Veronica didn’t even realize that her tears had begun to fall until the ink began to smear on the paper, the hot blood of her heart.
* * *
Veronica would’ve admired the beauty of the area if not for the fact that she was about to visit her ex in rehab. She hadn’t seen Logan for nearly a month, not since he had started detox and rehab. The last time they had been together had been one of the worst nights of her life, and she had vowed that she would never go near him again, never allow herself to be that hurt again. She didn’t care how much she loved Logan Echolls; the only thing she had ever gotten from it was pain and torment.
So why was she here?
It was obvious who was there to visit; they moved cautiously, as if they were as unsure as Veronica about whether or not they wanted to be there. She was convinced that she had made a mistake, that she should just go back to the airport and catch the next plane back to San Diego, forgetting Logan and that this day had ever happened.
And then she saw him, the thinnest she had ever seen him, skin slowly returning to a healthy color, stubble covering his cheeks, but rather than make him look scruffy, it made him appear older, more matured. When he saw her, he tentatively raised his hand, giving a little wave, and Veronica hated the way that her heart began to beat double time. What was it about seeing him that always turned her into a blushing adolescent?
She wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to hug him or not, whether he expected a hug or not. Logan always wanted physical affection, even after his most supreme asshole behavior, and usually Veronica was willing, but lately…Ever since that last night they’d seen each other, she hadn’t wanted to see him, let alone touch him. Love or not, she refused to continue down the destructive path they were on.
He didn’t move to embrace her. Instead, he gave her a genuine half-smile, not his usual smirk, and said in a voice that was much softer than his usual tone, “I’m glad you came.”
At least one of them was.
* * *
There were nine other patients in Logan’s group, each with their own friend or family member that they had wronged during alcoholic binges. Twenty people plus the counselor were crammed into a room comfortable for ten, and Veronica could feel the tension crawling over her skin. The air was thick with emotions that hadn’t been brought out in the open, and, when she saw the counselor move two chairs to the center of the circle, real and true terror clutched her as she realized that everyone was going to hear what had happened between them.
Veronica hated emotional displays. They were messy and overwhelming and everything that she hated about her fragile, human self, and as such, she didn’t dwell on anything that was remotely affecting. To have to sit in the world’s most uncomfortable chair and watch the emotional carnage that remained after careless, alcoholic efforts…Veronica would rather spend the rest of her life ala Groundhog Day forever caught in a reel of almost being burned alive at the hands of Aaron Echolls.
“Welcome,” the counselor began. “As I’m sure you’ve been told, a part of any recovery is confronting those who you wronged while in the throes of your addiction. Your loved one asked you here today because they feel that they have hurt you the most out of everyone in their life.”
Veronica’s eyebrows nearly shot off her face. Out of everyone, he thought that he had hurt her the worst? She couldn’t exactly argue that he had definitely lashed out at her the most, but surely he had to have hurt other people too. But then, she realized with a start, Veronica was the only person he had left that wasn’t like Dick, that didn’t just tell him how fabulous he was and what a great idea downing another bottle of Jack Daniels was.
“Now, who wants to go first?”
Veronica nearly punched him when Logan raised his hand, wanting desperately to put this off for as long as she could. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to hear about Logan’s thoughts on their problems, let alone share them with all of these strangers, no matter how similar their situations were. But Veronica couldn’t just punk out now, so she obediently took a seat in the cold, metal folding chair, no cushion for her body or her heart.
“Logan, why don’t you tell…”
“Veronica,” he supplied.
“Veronica,” the counselor repeated, “why you brought her here today.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he decided on, “Because when I get drunk, I hurt you; I try to hurt you so that I can not hurt as much. I invited you because I ruined everything between us and you’re the most important person to me.”
“How does that make you feel to hear that, Veronica?” the big man with the Jerry Garcia beard queried, keeping his voice in what Veronica assumed he believed to be soft and soothing but was really just grating on her already thin patience.
“It makes me angry.”
“Why?”
This was worse than anything Ms. James had ever tried to do, and Veronica had to resist the very strong urge to roll her eyes. “Because he never takes the blame for anything; things are never his fault. It’s his parents or his friends or his addiction; it can never just be that he’s an asshole.”
Dr. Jerry Garcia nodded. “While your opinion is certainly valid, we’re trying not to use accusatory language or name calling in the circle.”
“Oh? Well, why don’t you ask Logan what he said to me before he admitted himself here? Why don’t you ask him the names he called me, and then you can lecture me on what I call him?”
“Veronica,” Logan began, his voice a little stronger than it had been earlier, “I know what I said was hurtful, but it was because I didn’t know how to deal with the things that were happening and I still felt victimized-“
“You’re always the victim! Well, you can’t be a victim if you don’t act like it!” She hated the tears that were catching in her throat but she knew there was no way she going to be able to hold them back, not now. With the salt water burning its way down her cheeks, she rasped out, “How could you say those things to me? How could you say…how could you tell me that I was the worst thing that had ever happened to you, that you regretted every minute? Why, after everything we’ve been through, would you tell me to go fuck myself and that I could die and you wouldn’t even miss me?! Why?!”
Logan’s own tears were flowing, his entire face shimmering with the liquid, and his shoulders were quaking with the effort to withhold his sobs. “When I saw you…When I saw you with that guy…he was making you laugh and he knows about your classes and I’m not…I’m not like that.”
“Piz? You did all of this because you’re jealous of Piz? If I wanted to be with him, I would be! I love you! I want to be with you! And I can’t because you’re not even with me when you are!”
“What does that mean?” he snapped, his own anger starting to replace the Zen-like state he had been trying to stay in during this visit.
“Guys...” Jerry Garcia started.
“It means that, on your list of priorities, I was never number one! It’s always your alcohol and your friends and jackass pranks and getting under Weevil’s skin and bucking authority! It was never just you and me with nothing else mattering! We couldn’t go one night without you turning away from me!”
“Because I know I’m not good enough for you! You’re Veronica-fucking-Mars, Hearst scholar, girl detective, savior of humanity, and who am I? I’m the son of a murderer! Everyone I know dies rather than stay with me! I’m fucking poison! Why do you even want that?!”
“Why did you even come back to me if you hate yourself that much?!”
“Logan, Veronica...”
“Because I love you so much that it kills me when you’re not with me! Because I don’t feel complete unless I’m with you! And I’m so angry that I can’t be what you need that I’d rather you hate me now than when you realize that I’m not good enough!”
“That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard in my life!”
“Well, that’s how I feel!”
“Why did you bring me up here? What was the point of this new heartbreak? Was I supposed to come see you all sober and listen to your ‘poor me, I’m not good enough for you’ speech and tell you it was okay, that every time you pull this it’s fine with me? Well, it’s not! You keep saying that you love me, but you can’t even look me in the eye when you say it! And I’m done! I’m glad you’re sober, I am, but I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” Getting to her feet, resolution in every movement, she whispered, “Call me when you’re ready to be an adult.”
“Wait, Veronica!” the counselor cried after her but she didn’t stop.
If she did, she was afraid that she’d completely break down.
* * *
“Do you ever wish that Mom would’ve sobered up and come back to us?” Veronica asked of Keith as he searched the living room for his car keys.
He paused, his quest momentarily interrupted. “I couldn’t want it for her; she had to want it for herself.”
“I know; I read the brochures too. I just…I don’t know. Do you think I chose Logan because he was like her?”
Finally locating his keys lodged beneath a sleeping Backup, he declared, “I’m not a psychologist, Veronica. All I know is that you need to make your decisions based on you and Logan, not your mother and me.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he ordered, “Try not to think yourself into a coma while I’m gone.”
“Ha. Ha.”
It had been two weeks since her disastrous trip to the rehab center, two weeks in which she began to question everything she had ever thought about her relationship with Logan. There had been no answers waiting for her in Scotts Valley, only more questions and heartache. How was she ever supposed to find her bearings when she was constantly being knocked around?
He was home now; she knew that. Mac had seen him at the counseling center near campus, the one where Veronica volunteered doing rape crisis work, the one that held AA meetings. It gave Veronica a strange sense of accomplishment that he was working his program; even though she played no part in it, she was proud of him, for him. But at the same time she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see him or not.
As she lied on the couch, Backup curled up beside her, she stared blankly at the television set, trying to make sense of her thoughts, knowing that there was no real answer there.
The knock startled her out of her reverie, and she rose slowly, as if her body was still trapped in the frozen state of her mind. But everything came completely awake as she stared at Logan on her doorstep, contrition on his face, a bouquet of pink roses in his arms.
“Logan...”
“Let me talk,” he requested, handing her the flowers as if they were something precious. “Just listen.”
She stayed silent.
“I look at you sometimes and all I can think about is how lucky I am that I have you, that you’re mine. And then there are times when I hear you talking about some new theory or book and you’re with him and I think that he’s the guy you should be with.”
“I don’t love Piz.”
“I’m scared of the day that you do.”
“Do you want me to stop being friends with him? Am I not supposed to have guy friends?”
“You said that when I’m with you, I’m still not, and I thought about it. I don’t give you everything because I’m scared you’re going to leave like everyone else. What if I give you everything and it’s still not enough?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”
Logan shook his head. “I know I can’t erase what I said that night at the Bridge. There’s no excuses; you were right about that. And I love you, Veronica. No matter what, please don’t doubt that. But…I can’t be with you or anyone right now. I have to get healthy and stay healthy and that has to be about me and nothing else.”
She didn’t want to be surprised by the searing in her heart but she was. Even though she understood it, she didn’t like it.
“I understand.”
“I’m not asking you to wait for me. I guess I’m just asking…Can you be my friend? Can we start over?”
Start over? Could she be the person he needed her to be right now, be a friend and not a lover when they had spent the last two years locked in a dance that was anything but friendly? How could she be his friend when every look, every touch, every breath was dripping with innuendo and promise and memory? Hadn’t they forgotten how to be friends long ago?
But she lied, “Of course,” because she knew that was what he needed to hear.
His lips were soft against her cheek, his new stubble scratching her skin as he breathed into her ear, “Thank you, Veronica.”
She put the roses in water, the pretty pink blossoms an explosion of color in the otherwise drab Mars kitchen. In a week’s time, they would wither and die and Keith would throw them out, but Veronica would save one dead blossom from the trash, keeping it hidden in the shoebox that was simply labeled Logan.
Just in case things ever changed, she wanted to keep the only flower he had ever given her.