THEN:
At age thirteen Logan Stanfield already knew about bad timing-- his parents got divorced, he moved to a new town, and was forced to start his life over again from scratch. But when he walked into the classroom that first day and laid eyes on M...
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MAISY
I spend the rest of the day at the house, carefully going through my mother's things, boxing up what I want to keep, and gathering up the stuff I don't want for Goodwill. I don't bother going through anything that belonged to my father; there is nothing there that I want. I decide to let someone else deal with the hassle. My stomach starts grumbling around eight o'clock. I never got around to having any lunch today, and the hangover I'm still sporting isn't helping.
When I open the fridge I'm not surprised to see that, besides an expired carton of juice and some old Chinese takeout, it's empty. I imagine my father didn't eat at home much, especially since my mother wasn't around to cook his meals anymore. I avoid the spot where it all happened, as I grab my keys off the counter and head out the back door to go get something to eat.
The town has changed a lot since I last lived here. A lot of the restaurants I used to go to have disappeared, and trendier spots seem to have sprouted up and taken their places. I park my car in the first space I can find on Main Street, and decide to get out and explore. Most of the restaurants are way too fancy for how I'm dressed, still in my jeans and tank top from earlier, but it doesn't matter; I don't really want to sit down anyway. I just want to grab some food, take it back to the house, and finish what I started. The sooner I can get this all over with, the sooner I can get out of this town, and back to my real life.
About two blocks up I spot a small delicatessen that serves soup and sandwiches. I order a tuna on rye and a diet soda to go, and not ten minutes later I'm out the door with my dinner in hand.
Despite it being a weeknight, the street is pretty crowded. There's a steady stream of traffic and the restaurants that line both sides of the street are jam-packed with people. Noise and music spills out onto the sidewalks, and everyone around me looks happy. This makes me frown. I can't remember the last time I felt happy.
I'm not sure what makes me do it but for some reason, when I'm about a block away from my car, my gaze is drawn across the street.
And that's when I see him standing there.
Logan.
I bite down on my lip and my heartbeat steadily increases as I continue to watch him, slowing down my steps, and forgetting about everything else around me. He's still in his suit and tie from earlier, leaning up against one of the fancier restaurants on the block, and wearing a scowl that's evident from all the way over here. He bends his head down and checks his watch and his eyebrows furrow in concern. Thankfully he doesn't see me, but I still hold my bag of food up a little higher and hide my face, just to be on the safe side. Slowly I start walking to my car, stealing glances over at him the entire time.
He waves and says hello to some man passing by him, and that's when I get a glimpse of the Logan I remember. A lock of his dark hair falls down over his forehead just like it used to, and I feel my fingers cramping with the need to brush it away. He flashes a gorgeous smile that's so bright it warms me from across the stream of steady traffic. It's almost unfair how much better looking he's gotten since high school.
