I didn’t follow. I didn’t say a fucking word. Because in my mind, all I could think—is that it's my fault.

 It's all my fucking fault.

 "Fuck," I muttered under my breath, as something cold was placed on my hand. I looked down to see Lucy covering it with a bag of frozen peas. And then I remember everyone else was here.

 "You all good, man?" Jake patted my shoulder.

 I nodded, held the bag to my hand and sat on the sofa. "What the fuck just happened?"

 ***

 I don't know how much time passed before Dylan and Cam came back in the house. "One of his boys just picked him up," Dylan stated.

 "Yeah, you don't need to worry about him coming back either. D took care of it," Cam confirmed, taking a seat next to Lucy and putting his arm around her. She sank into him.

 My mind was still buzzing from the adrenalin, and the pain in my hand had started to throb. My head rolled to the back of the sofa as my good hand rubbed my eyes.

 I heard a door open and shut and whipped my head to the sound. Ethan came out of the hallway, shrugging on a new shirt. He stopped abruptly when he saw us all sitting around, waiting...I don't really know what for.

 "How’s your hand?" He asked, as he got closer.

 I glanced at his, "Not as bad as yours."

 He shrugged. "She uh, she wants to see you." He jerked his head to her bedroom.

 I took a deep breath in to calm myself. I don't know that I could see her. I don't think I'd have the right words to tell her how fucking sorry I was. For all of it. For being an asshole. For not calling her. For not being there. But mainly, for not being what she thought we could be. What she wanted us to be.

 "We're gonna head out." One of the guys said. I don't know who because I was already walking towards her room.

 I knocked lightly on her door and opened it. She lay in the middle of her bed, but slowly came to sit on the edge. I sat next to her, looking down at the floor.

 Then I felt her soft hands on mine, removing the frozen bag. I jerked it away.

 "Logan." It was barely a whisper.

 I cleared the lump in my throat. "There's still blood, you can't see it."

 "Whose?"

 "Huh?"

 "Whose blood is it?"

 "I don't know." I still couldn't face her.

 Silence.

 "Logan, what's wrong?"

 I shook my head.

 "Look at me, please?" she pled.

 So I did.

 And then we were just staring at each other, trying to understand what this was. Where this left us. She looked at me so intently, her eyes boring into mine, that I think I forgot to breathe. I dropped my head again, too uncomfortable to hold her gaze.

 "I'm sorry," she said.

 I let out the breath. "What?"

 "Your hand..."

 My mind was too filled with guilt for thoughts to make sense.

 I felt her move closer to me. My head lifted to face her. She was biting her lip, watching me.

 "It's my fault," I told her. Truth.

 She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Please? I want it to be done."

 I raised my good hand and held the side of her face, she leaned into it. I wiped her tears with my thumb. "Did he hurt you?"

 She closed her eyes softly. "Honestly?" When she opened them, they were focused on me.

 I nodded.

 She covered my hand with hers and held it closer to her face. "Not as much as you did. But it's done. It's over."

 She laid back down, her head on my lap. I started running my fingers through her hair.

 We were silent for so long that eventually her breathing evened out. She'd fallen asleep. I tried not to disturb her as I moved from under her, but she woke. Her arms went around me, holding me onto her.

 "I just need some water," I lifted my hand, "and aspirin. You want anything?"

 She shook her head as she got more comfortable under the covers. "Come back, okay?"

 ***

 When I got back to her room, she was sitting up, the covers bunched at her waist. "You took your time."

 "Sorry." I stood at the foot of her bed, not sure what to do.

 She lifted the covers on one side. "Are you coming in?"

 I unbuckled my belt and started to take my jeans off. I noticed her watching me. I kicked them off and removed my shirt. Not wanting to see her reaction, I quickly got into her bed, and turned off the lamp.

 We were lying side by side, not talking, not touching.

 Then I felt her move to her side. "Why didn't you call?" she whispered, sadness consumed in her tone.

 I turned to face here. A single tear fell from her eyes. I wanted to reach out and take away her pain. But I don't. I just lay there, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. "I promise, I'll tell you. But not tonight, okay?"

 She nodded as she moved closer. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her head to my chest. Her arm went around my waist while her legs tangled with mine. We were as close as we could possibly be.

 And for the first time in days—being with her—like this—holding her—I finally felt like I could breathe again.

TWENTY SIX

 Amanda

 I woke up the next morning to Logan's phone alarm going off, then his deep rumble from underneath me. My head was on his chest, our legs tangled and his arms around me.

 His hand was gentle in my hair as he pulled back from me. Then we were face to face.

 He smiled. "God, Amanda. I'd be the luckiest asshole in world if I got to wake up like this, with you in my arms, every goddamn day." He kissed my forehead, and my eyes fell shut.

 When he pulled back he just looked at me. "I need you to forgive me," he breathed out, both hands on my face. I don't know if he was asking or telling, or if he was even talking to me. It was like a thought in his head that had to be voiced.

 I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted. "Don't say anything. I need to show you something," he said, his eyes moving all over my face. "Can I show you something, please? Ethan and I are going to see the team doc, but after that, will you...let me take you somewhere?

 I nodded slowly.

 "Okay," he said, taking my hand and kissing my wrist.

 Logan

 I told Ethan it was me that summer—the one that she broke up with Tyson for. I told him in the car on the way to the field and he didn't say shit. But now we were here, outside of the car, standing face to face. I could see he wanted to hit me. I'd take it. I'd take whatever beating he gave me.

 He glared, squaring his shoulders.

 I did the same.

 "I kind of want to punch you," he said.

 I nodded.

 "Why did you even tell me?"