I opened the bedroom door and practically walked into her. She was lugging a huge gear bag behind her. It looked heavy as hell. I stepped forward and took it from her hands. She resisted, but only for a second. "Where do you want it?"

 She laughed. "The bus stop." It came out as a question.

 "What?" I chuckled. "Where the hell are you going with this thing?"

 "Uh." She hesitated for a second, "Home."

 She's leaving? "What? Why?" I rushed out. I don't want her to leave. If anyone was moving out it was me.

 My emotion must've been evident because her eyes widened slightly, "No, Logan. Just uh, just for the night."

 "Oh." My shoulders relaxed. Then a grin took over my face.

 An hour later she was in the passenger seat, and we were driving home. It was awkward. She was on her phone, a concentrated look on her face. She wore those short denim cut offs she always wore. My eyes kept drifting to her legs. I couldn’t help it. They're that fucking amazing.

 Without warning, a crack of thunder sounded and rain started bucketing down. She sat up, putting the phone away.

 "You want me to pull over?"

 "Um, no. You don't have to. I'm sure you have things you need to do at home."

 I pulled the car over on the side of the road. You could barely see anything around. Her knee started bouncing, most likely from nerves. She bit her thumb, looking around.

 I leaned over to adjust her seat to laying position; we may as well get comfortable. She tensed when my body covered hers. When she was settled, I did the same with mine.

 Then we lay there, on our sides, in silence, facing each other.

 "It's funny," she whispered, loud enough to hear over the sound of the rain pounding against the metal. "It's like we're in our own little bubble."

 She closed her eyes, her lips trembling.

 She was afraid.

 My hand reached out and touched the side of her face. She leaned into it, her eyes still closed.

 "Logan," she whispered, quieter this time.

 She opened her eyes.

 Then I felt it—that ache in my chest—but it was different this time.

 And this—this is the moment.

 The moment I let myself fall completely in love with her.

 I let out all the air in my lungs, "I didn't call you because I thought I was in love with Mikayla."

 "What?" she squeaked out, sitting up a little.

 I swallowed. My heart thud against my chest. This could make or break us.

 I knew I could lose her forever.

 I shifted and lay on my back. My arm covered my eyes. I couldn't watch her face when I told her the reason why she had to experience all that pain. All the pain I caused.

 So I told her.

 I told her about running into Micky at the store on the way to see her. I told her about the pregnancy scare and taking her to see Dad. I told her about the next day, when I was so fucking excited to see her, but when I opened the door to leave, Micky was there. I told her how she cried about missing her family. About how I held her as she did. I even told her the exact moment I thought I felt something.

 She stayed quiet, even when I was done speaking. I was shit scared to face her, so for minutes, we just sat there, silence filling our own little bubble.

 Then she cleared her throat.

 I finally moved my arm and opened one eye to look at her.

 She was watching me.

 I turned to my side and faced her again. "I'm sorry, Amanda."

 She faced the roof. "Ethan was hit by a car." She spoke so quietly, I almost didn't hear her. "Actually, he pushed me out of the way, and got hit by a car. We were twelve. I was stupid. I didn't even look. It was raining. Just like this." Her voice was strained. She sniffed once. "That's why I'm scared of the rain. Everyone has their reasons. It may seem stupid, Logan, but to me, it's enough." Her eyes lifted to meet mine. "Do you still have feelings for her?"

 I stupidly nodded.

 Her face changed.

 "Not like that," I said quickly. "Not in that way. I never did, Amanda. I was just stupid, and confused. But no—I never had those types of feelings for her."

 A huge gust of wind caused the car to shake. She reached her hand out to grip my arm. Her eyes snapped shut. "Come here," I said, helping her move until her body was on top of mine, my arms around her. Exactly where she belonged.

 Another gust of wind.

 She tensed.

 I held her tighter.

 A pained sound escaped her.

 "Am I hurting you?" I stroked her hair.

 "No," she said into my chest. "You're healing me."

 ***

 I could feel my heart thumping against my chest. She must've felt it too, because she raised her head to meet my eyes, "Your heart is going a million miles."

 "Mm," I hummed in agreement. My eyes were closed. My breath was shaky. I placed a hand on the back of her head, trying to get her to resume her position.

 She resisted. "Logan?" she tried to get my attention.

 I glanced down at her.

 "What's going on?"

 I watched her—her eyes carried an intensity I'd never seen before. Truth time. "I'm nervous," I said flatly.

 "Why?" She had a puzzled scowl.

 "You make me nervous."

 She laughed once. "How do I make you nervous?"

  "I don't know," I shrugged. "I'm afraid that it's not enough. That what I've said and what I've done, and what I'm doing right now isn't enough. That you won't forgive me and you won't want to be with me. And you do this thing—where you shut yourself off and you don't talk to me—or anyone—for hours, or days, and I have no idea how you're feeling or what you're thinking. So yeah—I'm nervous as all hell that this is the last time I'll get to hold you. I’m afraid that we'll never be as close as we were. I'm scared that you'll want nothing at all to do with me."

 She let out a long drawn out breath, her eyes glued to mine.

 I waited.

 Then she sighed, her forehead falling onto my chest.

 "I'm sorry," she said. "You're right. It’s not enough. Not anymore."

 ***

 I held her as the rain beat down on the car.

 I held her tighter as it got worse.

 I let go of her when it cleared.

 And then I drove her home.

 All while not saying a Goddamn word—because really—what was there left to say?

 She said she couldn't be with me.

 ***

 I'd been driving around for four hours. That's how long ago I left Jake's house. Nathan was right, what he had to tell me wasn't time sensitive. Not at all. In fact I could have waited another twenty years to hear it.