MAISY

I watch the bottle bounce against his thigh and the dark liquor slosh around inside as he walks away from me. In our odd quasi-relationship Logan's never walked away from me before and I have to admit, I don't like how it feels. I watch him stumble slightly, catching himself in the blink of an eye as he unsteadily continues on to his car. He tips the bottle up and pours more of it down his throat and I shake my head, not believing what I'm seeing. This isn't the Logan I remember.

But maybe I didn't know him at all.

He leans his body up against a sleek black Mercedes, supporting himself against the vehicle as he digs his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, and searches for his keys. My eyes grow wide as my brain catches up with me. There is no way Logan is getting behind that wheel. I let out an exasperated sigh and jog towards him.

"Logan!"

He looks up at me, almost like he's forgotten that I was here and for the briefest moment his eyes soften when they take me in. It's enough to make my heart thump inside my chest, but just as quickly the look is gone and he shuts himself down. His eyes narrow and he glares at me suspiciously. I stop just a few feet away from him knowing, that for both our sake's, I shouldn't get any closer.

"You can't drive like this."

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on me as he starts to put the key in the door. I attempt to grab onto the back of his shirt, but he yanks himself free, stumbling in the process. He turns on me with a heated expression. Stepping back quickly, I lower my hands in defeat but I can't help keep my eyes locked on his, despite how much everything logical inside me is begging me to pull them away.

"You've been drinking. I can't let you get in a car like this." I stick my hand out again, this time palm up, giving him a look that dares him to argue back and willing both my hand and my voice not to tremble. "Give me the keys Logan."

At this point it doesn't matter what's going on between us; he can't drive. Logan looks down at my open hand and then back up at me like he isn't quite sure what to do so I don't give him a choice. My hand darts out and snatch the keys from the door.

"H-hey!" Logan stutters, a beat too late. He stares over at me looking dumbfounded but I'm already spinning on my heels, heading back towards my house.

"Maisy!" Logan shouts out after me. "What the fuck?"

I ignore him and keep on walking. He'll follow me; he has to. He doesn't have any other choice unless he plans on walking home, wherever that may be now.

Shoving his keys into my pocket, I continue down the sidewalk, listening as Logan calls out from behind me. I hear him getting closer and it only takes a moment before he catches up to me.

"If you wanted me to go home with you, you just had to ask," he cracks.

I glare over at him and he smirks back at me, making me cringe. "Trust me; the last thing I want is you in my home. I'm calling you a cab and you're not stepping a foot inside my house."

Logan lets out a loud, dry laugh and lifts the bottle into the air. "I'll drink to that."

He takes another gulp and I shake my head in disappointment. "Is this a normal thing for you?" I ask as we reach my house and I open the gate, holding it open for Logan who's staggering a few steps behind. As he passes by me I get a whiff of the alcohol on him and crinkle my nose.

"Come on Maisy," he slurs, leaning back against the bannister of the front porch stairs and taking another sip from the bottle. "You looked like you had a rough night the other day." His body slides down the railing and slumps onto the steps in a heap. "So maybe you can save the lecture."

I glare down at him and fold my arms in front of me. "Yeah, well, my father had just died so..."

He looks up, unapologetically, and even though his eyes are heavy with drink, it's like they can see right through me. "The father you hadn't seen or spoke to in eight years?"

I bite down on my bottom lip as he continues to stare back at me like he's actually expecting an answer. I hadn't forgotten that about Logan, the way he'd been able to somehow figure out how to open me up when no one else ever could. It was one of the things that'd I remembered the most about him. I just don't remember him being so brutal about it.

Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I find the number for a cab company and wait as it rings. "I'm calling you a cab," I mumble to him over my shoulder.

"Seeing you was unexpected." I freeze and glance over at Logan, physically feeling the pained look that he wears. "I knew you were coming, but I didn't let myself believe that you actually would." His head drops to the side and he continues to stare at me as he lifts the bottle to his lips and gulps some more of it down. As he haphazardly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression darkens.

"I buried you away a long time ago Maisy Jacobs."

He holds my gaze for a minute and I feel like I'm being reminded of it all again. The heartache in his words, the memory of the time we once shared, the guilt surrounding what he's feeling now, it all comes crashing in around me.

"Sunset Cab."

I blink when I hear the unexpected voice, having forgotten all about the phone in my hand. Tearing my gaze away from Logan, I turn my back on him and attempt to find my voice. "H-hi. I need a cab at 35 Riverside."

"Destination?"

I don't know Logan's address and sigh with annoyance. "Logan I need your address." When he doesn't respond I twist my body around, sagging in disappointment when I see him passed out on the stairs. His chin is dipped down to his chest and his body is slumped forward. Somehow he manages to look both uncomfortable and peaceful at the same time, but I don't care. He's going home.

"Logan!" I hiss. He still doesn't move.

"Ma'am." The voice of the impatient operator rings in my ear.

"Sorry." I turn my attention back to Logan, stomp over to him, and giving him a swift kick in the hip. He grunts, but doesn't open his eyes. "Logan, what's your address?"

When he still doesn't respond, I know I'm screwed.

"Ma'am I suggest you call back when your friend knows his address."

And with those final words, the operator hangs up on me and I'm left with nothing but the dial tone in my ear and Logan passed out on the stairs of my front porch. I just stand there for a moment, stunned by the absurdity of all this. I look down at Logan and let out an exasperated huff as I shove my phone back into my pocket. This is not how tonight was supposed to end. I was supposed to see Logan, let him get whatever he needed to out of his system, get the papers, and then get out of town.

I hesitate for a moment, debating what to do. Logan's eyes are still closed and his breaths are slow and steady. I study his face. He looks exactly as I remembered him, except maybe just a little older, better really. His jaw has squared out and there's more stubble on his cheeks; he's a man now, not the boy I once knew. But somehow, even with all this, he's still Logan.

I fight the urge to brush my hand across his cheek. I want to, but it wouldn't be smart for so many reasons. But I do allow myself to step closer to him, knowing that I don't really have a choice unless I plan on leaving Logan out here all night. I bend down in front of him. He smells like a distillery, but I can still detect that distinct scent, the one that's solely Logan's, underneath it. I remember that smell. It'd been part of my memories for so long now.

I reach out and pry the bottle from his hand and am about to place it on the stairs behind me, when I think better of it and take a swig for myself. The whiskey burns through my throat and I shake my head as I swallow. I put the bottle down behind me and look back at Logan, taking a deep breath. I can do this.

Leaning in closer, I slip one of my arms underneath his and try to haul him up. "You've got to be kidding me," I grunt as I drop him from the small distance I managed to lift him. Logan groans. I bend back down and place my faces just inches from his.

"Logan." I snap, softly slapping his cheek in frustration.

His eyes blink open and his head lulls over to me. He looks completely out of it. "Huh?"

"Logan, you've got to help me out."

He blinks again, trying to focus on me. "Maisy?" He sounds confused.

"Yes Logan. You've got to get up."

With my help he slowly lifts himself up from the porch stairs, but the whole thing requires a lot of effort on both our parts. It takes multiple attempts to get him up the stairs, but I finally manage to get the front door open and Logan inside. He either leans on the railing, the wall, or me during the entire process, like he can't quite keep himself up on his own. Every time he falls into me all these memories come bubbling to the surface, feelings I know I can't deal with, things he can never know.

Once I get him inside I steer Logan over to the living room where he unceremoniously collapses down on the sofa. My father would've died all over again had he been alive to witness Logan drape himself all over the expensive white fabric that few guests were ever deemed worthy enough to sit upon. I grab a blanket for him from the basket near the end table. Why am I doing this? Why is Logan even in my house?

I take one of his shoes off and lift his leg up on the sofa; his long body barely fits. Still, I manage to do the same thing with his other leg and somehow get him on there. Fanning the blanket out above him I lay it down over his body, making sure that most of him is covered up. I'm just about to walk away and retreat to the safety of my room, when something suddenly stops me. I turn around and watch as Logan adjusts himself on the sofa. He turns his body to the side and his eyebrows furrow together in sleep. I stare down at him, completely mesmerized.

Without thinking, I pad the few steps back over to him and drop down on my knees. His eyes flutter as mine roam over his face. I may not let myself think about Logan often, but I remembered his face as if I'd just seen it yesterday. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm lifting my hand and reaching out. Ever so gently, as if he could wake at any moment, I let my fingers glide across his cheek. It feels the same as I remember and my mind flashes back to that night when I last touched him. I can feel the embers deep in my belly reignite and know that I'm walking a fine line. I'm tempting myself with something I can't have anymore, something that was never mine to begin with. It's dangerous.

My legs shake as I slowly ease myself back up. It was a mistake bringing him here. I drop his car keys on the coffee table in front of him so he'll be able to find them in the morning, and as I back out of the room I keep my eyes on him the whole time. I'd hurt Logan more than I realized when I left. I hate that he now knows that the girl in the playground is long gone. It was better when it was left alone, when it was just a memory, not a painful reminder. Logan was a part of my past, but he can never be part of my present.