Page 18 of Knowing Amelia

Distracted, I jump at Ben’s groan. “So, what?”

Benjamin huffs. I don’t blame him. I’m struggling to pay attention. “When will you be home?” he asks.

“Oh.” My chest aches at the thought of leaving. I haven’t done anything I hoped to while here. “I’m not sure. The funeral isn’t until eleven. We may not leave until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Jonathon said you’d be on the road by one.”

A groan—more like a growl—spills from my throat. “Did he? Then why bother asking me?” My jaw clenches. I will never survive the summer. Not living under the same roof as Dad and Ben.

“Come on, Liv, I tried you first, but I got your voicemail. You must have been in the shower.”

“I should go, Benjamin.”

“Olivia, don’t go like that. Sweetheart?”

“What do you want from me?” I shake my head, unshed tears suddenly pricking my eyes.

“I love you,” he sings.

I sigh. “I know, and I love you.” But sometimes I’m surprised at how different fictional love and real-life love can be. This isn’t how I pictured love.

I tromp back into the living room, my face burning. Why can’t Ben understand that being here is important to me?

Upon seeing me, Logan stands, his forehead wrinkling. “Is something wrong?”

My dry eyes blink, and I clench every nerve ending, holding myself together. “Not really. Benjamin, my boyfriend, he…” But I stop. I shouldn’t be sharing our troubles with a stranger. I’m not even sure what I’m angry about. That Ben misses me? That he loves me? That he has a good relationship with my father? What am I complaining about again?

Logan waits for me to continue, his hazel eyes focusing intently on my face.

“Never mind.” I huff out a breath of air. “It’s nothing.”

“This must be a hard day for you. Can I ask why you’re alone? Where’s your dad or Benjamin?”

“Ben had to work,” I say. “And my dad stayed at a hotel.”

He scowls. It doesn’t look right on his joyful face. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yes.” I force a smile, attempting to reassure him. “Thank you, Logan, you’re very kind.”

“I guess I should go, then.” He walks back to the door and I follow after him. He swings the front entrance open, and we step into the sunshine just as Dad pulls up.

“Good morning, Olivia,” Dad says, swinging his rental car door closed.

“Hey, Dad.” I motion to Logan. “This is Logan Heyborn, Amelia’s neighbor.”

“Good to meet you,” Dad says, his voice rushed.

Logan holds out his hand and Dad takes it for a quick handshake. “You too, sir. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Then he’s moving on, only a single glance Logan’s way. “Olivia, are you ready to go?”

“Yes, let me grab my purse.” I hurry back inside and snatch my bag.

“I’ll see you there,” Logan says to me.

I turn for the car that Dad is already waiting next to, but Logan’s calloused hand catches my wrist, sending ticklish pins up my arm. My eyes dart from his fingers to his face.

“I know you loved those hardwood floors,” Logan says. “I’m sure they’re still here. Next time you visit, I could help you pull the carpet up.”