On the front of the envelope, it simply says "When you're ready" in Ethan's messy handwriting. I always gave him shit for it, asking him how he could read the scribble he produced. He would laugh and admit that he couldn't. I smiled, remembering all the years of sweet memories we shared.
I found the letter weeks after he died, when I was looking through one of his drawers. Knowing him, he'd probably hid it somewhere out of the way on purpose, knowing I’d need some time. Those first weeks of grief were...well, there were no words. When someone close to you dies, it feels like they take a piece of your very soul with them. There were days when all I could do was muster up the energy to breathe. I would have done anything and everything to have a small piece of him back. When I finally found the letter, digging through his drawers, looking for something I don’t even remember anymore, I looked at the words he’d scribbled down on the envelope and froze. Part of me wanted to rip the envelope open that second, but those three words kept me from doing so. For nearly three years that envelope had sat in my nightstand. On the nights when missing him would get too much to bear, I’d pull it out and run my fingers over the words Ethan had written, and feel like he was here with me. But to this day, I still couldn’t break the seal.
"Ready for what, Ethan? How will I know?" I asked the silence. It didn’t answer back. It never did.
~Logan~
Sitting in my usual spot at the bar, I looked around at the quiet little pub I liked to frequent on the nights I wanted to be left alone. The bar was mostly empty tonight, as it was most nights, but that's why I liked it. You could settle yourself in the corner with a drink and disappear. And that is why I came to this city, after all. If I got the itch for something more...female, I would head downtown. But in here, I was left alone, to be whatever was left of me.
"Hey Logan, you need another one?” Cindy, the bartender asked.
"Sure, why not?" I hadn’t finished with the one I’d been nursing, but I was optimistic.
"Save any lives today?" Cindy asked me that question every time I saw her. Settling into her mid-fifties, she had one of those voices that sounded like a truck driving over gravel, and her hair was hair-sprayed to the ceiling.
"Nope. Slow night. But I did pull a Lego out of a kid’s nose. That was solid entertainment."
She laughed, moving across the bar to get my new drink.
Thinking about the hospital brought my thoughts circling back to the little girl with the strawberry curls and her beautiful mother, Clare. All evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Especially Clare. I never thought a woman covered in vomit could be so appealing. Thinking about the conversation I walked in on with her friend still makes me chuckle under my breath. I needed to Google that Somerhalder dude. Was he an actor? I had no idea who she was talking about.
"Cracking yourself up tonight, hun?" Cindy asked with a pointed gaze, dangling a freshly refilled drink before my eyes. "Maybe I need to keep this for myself, Doc?”
Feeling bold due to the memories of Clare and the whiskey currently zinging through my veins, I blurted out, "Cindy, do you think everyone’s capable of love?”
Surprised, she quickly answered, “Yes, I think everyone's capable of lovin’ another, why?”
“Because I’m not so sure. How do you know?”
I thought I was in love with Melanie. Hell, I’d even married her. But then I discovered the truth too late, trapping her in a loveless marriage, and driving her into the arms of another man.
Cindy looked at me like I'd grown two heads. In the years I had visited this place, we’d had conversations all the time, but they never went beyond friendly banter and her relentless flirting. It was obvious she didn’t know what to do with the sudden onset of my liquid confessions.
"You okay, hun? I know a man who wants to keep to himself, and I respect that, but you’re different tonight.” She looked at me, her eyes full of concern.
“What’s got your emotions so ripped open all the sudden?”
I completely froze. What was I doing? Bleeding my heart out to a middle aged bartender? It was ridiculous.
Whatever I felt in that exam room today was over. Clare was gone, and I needed to get on with my life. Love didn’t happen in an instant. Especially for me. And that woman, shit...any decent woman, didn't deserve the train wreck of life that would come with becoming involved with me. No need to introduce someone else to a life of Logan sized failures and f**k ups. I would stick to what I was good at, what everyone expected of me.
"Sorry, Cindy. Must be the whiskey talking. Just rambling. Anyway, I'm out."
I threw a couple twenties on the bar and slid on my jacket.
"I'm headed downtown to start some trouble," I said, forcing a grin to spread, before heading out the door.
Enough thinking for tonight.
Chapter Four
~Clare~
God, I hated home improvement stores.
As I lifted Maddie into the oversized shopping cart, I looked around in fear at the enormous store and asked myself what the hell I was getting myself into. Hopefully, I could find one of those old grandfatherly type men who work here who could walk me through this. Otherwise, I was screwed. Before his stroke, my Dad could have help with this sort of thing, but he'd lost so much control in his hands that handiwork was out of the question these days.
My brother, Garrett, was pretty well trained in the art of fixing things, but was currently out of town on an extended business trip. My little brother, the executive. It still cracked me up. Just a few years ago, he was an irresponsible frat boy and now he worked for a major pharmaceutical company, traveling all over the world.
"All right Maddie, let's see what kind of trouble we can get ourselves into today!" I exclaimed, glancing down at her sweet face as I pushed the cart into the first set of aisles.
In the last few days she had completely recovered. It was like the concussion never happened, except when I delivered the bad news about ballet class. No physical activity for a week. That hadn’t gone over well. She had since been counting down the days until she could return to class the following week. Her absence from class hadn’t kept her from dressing in tutus and leotards every day. She’s such a girl. Who says you can't watch movies in a tutu? Certainly not me.
About fifty aisles in, I was lost. How big was this store? The entire place smelled like a giant wood chipper, so they had to have wood, right?
“Maddie, we need to find the aisle that has all the wood in it. Can you help Mommy out and look for it?” I asked.