This is an epic of a chapter. Hopefully it makes up for our time apart.

Chapter 8

Separate Ways

11:00 pm Monday September 3

At the persistence of Keith and Veronica the wedding party disperses quickly. She needs rest and, though Dick provides welcome comic relief, everyone is made more then a little uncomfortable by the visual daggers Logan and Veronica keep throwing at each other. No one wants to talk about the accident. Especially since Logan's face takes on a look of physical pain every time someone mentions it. Veronica doesn't react much better, and in a weird sort of deference steers the topic away from a rehash.

Once Mac is reassured that Veronica will survive the night and Dick is reassured that she didn't blatantly attempt to murder Logan, the couple is easily persuaded to leave. They disperse with Piz and Parker in tow, and after a little haranguing on Mac's part Logan agrees to join too. There is a awkward moment of eye contact between the previously engaged couple, but in the end Logan slumps out the same way he slumped in. Pissed off and clueless.

His phone rings as the exhausted crew is heading to the car and he groans, expecting Nadine. But his caller ID reads Biker Bitch. At least one thing is his life is going according to plan. He waves the group off, mutters something about meeting them at the car. He's looking for good news when he flips open the phone, "Is it done?"

Weevil's voice is smug, "Yes and no."

He immediately slips into dramatics, letting out a large groan as he paces around a cement pillar in the basement parking garage, "How could you possibly have screwed this up?"

Weevil decides to let it slip because of his good mood, continuing as if Logan's response had been enthusiastic, "Finally managed to dig up a little dirt on Danny Jameson, apparently our guy-"

Logan doesn't want to hear it. Couldn't care less. The scraps of information he'd just days ago been counting on are now irrelevant. "I don't care," he interrupts, coming to halt for a brief second as he speaks.

Weevil pauses for a beat, but then returns with a vengeance, annoyance clear, "You know, I'm pretty sure I was speaking pretty boy American, but I guess I'll break it down a bit more, I'm saying I broke the case."

Logan smirks, revealing a pretty boy as sharp as a razor's edge, "I understood the words, despite your ghetto affectations. I'm saying it doesn't matter," he reiterates, drawing out the syllables condescendingly and then with a wave of his hand, "Make him go away."

In his home office Weevil's eyes narrow, and his question comes out snider then he intends, "This doesn't have anything to do with you and my favorite teen detective's recent trip to the ER does it?"

Logan stops short, taking in a deep breath to avoid cussing out his volatile employee. He has yet to master self control though, so one expletive slips past the hard line of his mouth, "Don't take this the wrong way Weev: but fuck off."

Weevil knows he deserves that one. Knows that if he had been standing near Logan he might have even taken a fist to the face. He's only recently realized how very deep Logan's sensitivity towards a certain former blonde really runs. And so he doesn't take it personally, never really has with 09er rich boys, instead he asks seriously, "How's Veronica?"

"She's fine," Logan exhales, leaning his hot forehead against the cool pillar he had just been circling. His skull is throbbing. And he is flashing back to those fleeting moments in the car. He had screamed her name as the rain poured through his shattered window. Kept screaming as he crawled out and then came back for her. She hadn't answered once. And even after, when he had felt the beat of her pulse under his fingers, he had been convinced she was mere moments from slipping away. "And she'll stay that way if you just do your job," he finishes resolutely.

It's back to business. Even though it's clear this job has always been personal. For both men. Weevil takes the chance to highlight his success once again, "I'm trying to save you ten million dollars, isn't that what you hired me for?"

"And now I'm saying I want you to give this guy whatever the hell he wants," once again Logan draws out the syllables, concluding with an eye roll, "Keep up."

Weevil's jaw clenches, on the verge of being pushed too far. He can feel sympathetic towards the poor bastard but blatant disrespect is unacceptable no matter the circumstances, "You know what Echolls-"

Logan cuts him short, smirk returning, although with an added touch of weariness, "Any progress on Leanne?"

There is scornful silence on the other line. A no if there ever was one.

"Okay then," Logan's done with the conversation and begins to head towards the car, "thanks for this pointless phone call. Its been such a pleasure to once again realize your glaring incompetence."

He hangs up before Weevil can begin the string of familiar obscenities.

8:00 am Tuesday September 4

She wakes up in a rush. Hands flying to her skull and stomach, her mind filled with phantom memories. It takes too long for her heart to settle down, and it beats wildly against her ribcage in great pounding spurts.

The room is dark, the curtains drawn. But she can make out two sleeping forms, one stretched out on the bed next to hers, the other crashing on the couch. Wallace and Keith. Both men had insisted on staying, and after her mostly unspoken war with Logan she had been too tired to fight with any more men who love her too much.

She catches her breath. And as she lays there in the light of the morning sun she becomes horribly claustrophobic. She'd been in the same position much too recently. And it all feels like some horrible case of deja vu. For a memory she has no desire to relive.

The restlessness drives her out of her bed, and thankfully she's in her own sweats and T shirt and not some ridiculous paper gown. Because she's hell bent on dragging her ass to the head of the hospital if it means getting out of this horrible, oppressive room. Her body screams when she stands, and she feels like, well she feels like she's been in a car accident.

She's as quiet as possible, and she almost makes it to the door. But he grabs her wrist when she passes by, and she's so jumpy she nearly screams. Wallace's face is smashed into the couch cushion comically and he regards her with a single, disdainful, open eye. "Lay back down," he commands.

She smiles, sugar sweet even though her body and mind are begging to lash out, "You know that's not going to happen."

"They'll discharge you when they have time," Wallace grumbles, but his grip is loosening. Aware he'd lost before even starting.

She sighs, reaching down to squeeze his arm as consolation. "We'd spend the whole afternoon here," she explains in a whisper, adding with a smirk, "I'd much rather let you take me out to breakfast."

She slips out of his grasp and heads for the door. And Wallace sighs, presses his face back into the pillow, and lets her.

12:00 pm Tuesday September 4

"So what's the problem?" Dick wonders. He's spread eagle on a tricked out raft in the middle of Logan's humungous pool. Clad in loose board shorts and nothing else. His shaggy blonde hair is wet and falls curly around his face, making him look slightly cherubic. He's got a beer in one hand and half of a slightly soggy sandwich in the other.

Logan, fully clothed plus sunglasses, lays gingerly on a cushioned chaise. His hands are a fucking mess, he's bruised from the elbow down on his left arm, and the rest of him just generally feels like shit. Thank God, or his hot doctor really, for pain pills. He studies Dick from over the top of his shades, concluding with surly flair, "As usual, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dick takes a swig of his beer and explains, "I've been trying to figure out how to minimize the damage of this rapidly sinking ship, and I've decided the best way is for you and Veronica to get back together."

Logan snorts, eyes narrowing for only a split second when he observes, "You hate Veronica."

Dick looks appalled, "I don't hate her," he denies in too vehement a voice before his face breaks into a self deprecating grin, "Mostly I fear her. And Mac loves her and-"

Logan rolls his eyes, deadpanning, "And you are determined to make Mac's wedding day sunshine and daisies. I memorized the speech." Logan should have known better then to let Dick into the house when he was in such a dark mood. Although it wasn't like the blonde had been asking permission. He knows he's acting like a tool. He wants Mac and Dick's wedding to be great for both of them. God knows after everything they deserve it. But right now he's far too selfish to admit it. Far too broken and bruised and hung up on the girl whose responsible for all of it.

Thankfully Dick doesn't hold much of it against him. "Well so far this week hasn't been going how I fucking pictured dude," the blonde exclaims, waving his sandwich dangerously over open water, "Veronica's got potential brain damage, you look like you bare knuckle boxed with Tyson, and suddenly its become my job to lose sleep about you two lunging at each other over my swan ice sculptures. I just wanna kiss my bride and eat some cake. Why does this have to be difficult?"

Logan disregards most of Dick's speech because of one particular statement he can't abide, "Veronica does not have brain damage. I sweet talked a nurse, she was released an two hours ago with a clean bill."

Dick's mouth falls open, amazed at how off topic his best friend has gotten. "I can't…," he stutters before trying again, "Do you hear yourself? She's had you by the throat since junior year. She's finally back in the same zip code as you. And I definitely walked in on some sort of twisted mating ritual at the hospital last night. So I ask again, what's the problem?"

Logan relaxes back into the chair, replying in a indifferent tone, "Veronica and I aren't getting back together Dick. We're not."

"Oh yeah," Dick groans skeptically, "you hate her. You're better off without her. What a bitch. Tell me one I haven't heard about a million times before." It's hard to assess from Logan's words, Dick's found, because he's so quick and a really spectacular liar. But all it takes is one look at his eyes when the Veronica subject is broached. When it comes to her, his usually cocky and self assured best friend turns to jello. And when he isn't about to melt he's hard as nails and ready to declare war. Logan doesn't even spare a passing glance for people he doesn't care about. If he was anywhere close to over Veronica he wouldn't bother getting drunk over her or giving a shit about the state of her head trauma.

"She's still hiding shit," Logan exclaims, sitting up again despite himself and effectively ending Dick's musings, "After all this time. I don't know what, but I know its something."

"And you are a paragon of truth," Dick claims sarcastically before continuing, "Man, Veronica's always been shady, isn't that one of the qualities I'm supposed to find endearing?"

"Is it wrong to miss the days when all you thought about was weed and your surf board?" Logan questions wistfully, smirking at his best friend.

Dick raises a bleached eye brow, "Lets not pretend the two of you don't share a certain rebel image. What with all the petty crimes and misdemeanors-"

"-Getting accused of murder." Logan adds, trying not to flinch at the memory.

"Good times," Dick agrees obliviously, "All I'm saying is that you asked the girl to marry you. And that was when she was still rolling around in bushes pulling jobs for her dad. You knew what you were getting yourself into. I know because I was there at fucking Tiffany's begging you to put away your gold card. However, despite my past reservations I think you should hear her out before you burn that bridge."

Logan pauses, staring at the blonde inquisitively, emotions flitting across his face rapid fire. Finally he asks, slightly shocked, "How much do you know Dick?"

"Man," Dick begins, raising his hands, eyes widening a bit like a deer in headlights, "I plan on being happily married. Which means I've heard, seen, and know nothing."

Logan considers prodding, knows he could get at least something. But a moment later Dick overestimates the width of the raft and capsizes, managing to save his beer but not his sandwich. Pieces of the epic monstrosity go everywhere in his formerly pristine pool.

"Don't worry man," Dick sputters, treading water with the dogged determinate of a golden retriever, "I got this."

Logan continues to look at the scene for a split second, a shadow of a smile appearing as Dick lunges for a piece of rye bread. And then he relaxes and lays down for a nap.

1:00 pm Tuesday September 4

After her hospital sign out and mildly awkward breakfast with Wallace, Veronica gets corralled into a spa day with Mac and Parker. The blonde is in rare form this afternoon. Tan, tall, and wrapped in a purple sundress, she is all smiles and legs.

She gives Veronica an exaggerated sad face from the passenger seat, "Rough night huh?"

"You could say that," Veronica smiles wryly as she opens the back door and slides in.

"Yeah," Mac agrees with a snort as she throws the car into gear and begins to back out of the drive way, "air bag to the face, you know in my book that's a solid Monday night."

Parker crosses her arms over her chest, eyeing Veronica's amused smile in the rearview mirror before quipping, "Oh I do love it when you two become the same, sarcastic soul sister. It really brings back the fondest memories of college."

"You always had enough fun for the both of us," Veronica recalls. Which was true, Parker had always been the life of the party. While Mac and Veronica were content to sit in a corner and talk all night to each other.

"I still have enough fun for the both of you," Parker agrees, and then with a devilish smile she pulls out a large bottle of French champagne from her purse. "And I've decided to make to make today no exception," she adds, winking for effect. Mac rolls her eyes, anticipating the fight before the girls even begin.

Veronica blanches, voice critical when she asks, "Did it slip your mind that I was involved in an alcohol related car accident less then twenty four hours ago?"

"This isn't for you," Parker defends immediately, edge in her voice now, "We're still not sure your brain's back to full function, this is for me and Mac. You're can be our DD, only try not to plow this one into a tree because I do not love you enough to slam my fist through a window." Parker feels bad immediately after the words leave her mouth. But she's also a little relieved, she's had resentment towards Veronica for almost a decade. And there are somethings that just need to be said, especially if no one else is going to man up and knock some sense into this renegade maid of honor.

"From sugary to bitchy in three seconds," Veronica muses, finger on her lips, "now that reminds me of college." She and Parker have never outwardly disliked each other, for Mac's sake mostly. But the awkwardness of the Logan situation and eventually the Piz situation had never really subsided. And it was still stuck between them even now.

"Just give me a second," Parker replies, struggling with cork, "we'll like each other again once I'm done with this."

"Doubt it," Veronica murmurs sharply, not in the mood to defend herself against anymore character assignation this afternoon.

Parker replies with melodramatic eye roll.

"Ladies," Mac interjects calmly as the car comes to a halt at a red light, "I understand that your game of boyfriend swap has left you both a little bitter. But this is supposed to be to help us relax." She seizes the bottle from Parker and sticks it under her seat, adding furtively, "Also I'm hoarding the booze. So you're both just gonna have to like each other as you are."

Parker looks about to argue, but then relaxes back into the seat. After a moment concluding dubiously, "Doubt it."

And despite herself, Veronica can't help but smile into the palm of her hand.

4:00 pm Tuesday September 4

Veronica emerges from her facial thoroughly harassed and with an inflamed T zone. She has been poked and prodded for the majority of her time at the spa, and her sore body and short temper are rapidly rushing together to create a train wreck of an attitude.

It is this annoyance that prompts her to corner Parker in the changing rooms while Mac is finishing up, "exfoliating" as their attendant had put it. Hands on her hips Veronica asks with an eye brow quirk, "So what's your problem Parker?"

The tall blonde turns slowly, wrapped in a thick white robe. She hadn't been counting on fighting with Veronica while half naked. Didn't really like fighting in any state. But she also hates this poor Veronica routine everyone seems to be adopting. In her opinion Veronica has always been to blame for her own unhappiness. "My problem," Parker starts, voice completely contained as she finishes with a straight face, "is that you're ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" Veronica blinks.

"Doesn't it get tiring?" Parker asks, her stoic face breaking into a mix of curiosity and concern. She has always been a pushover, and she hates to yell, "All these circles that you keep running in?"

"I'm not-" Veronica starts to argue.

But Parker's not listening, the words that have been stuck in her head for years finally pouring out, "It would be one thing if you'd changed, if either of you had managed to disentangle from your incestuous little web, but I come back and nothing has changed. The same Logan and Veronica, angst level at the maximum, circling and snarling like you haven't been obsessed with each other since your first fucking kiss."

Veronica shakes her head, and smiles back at Parker with a mix of condescension and raw anxiety, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please," Parker snorts with another over dramatic eye roll, "I lived that lie already. Fell for every line. But now it's all so blissfully clear. You and Logan, you share this whole secretive history, this fucked up connection that no one else understands because you seem to outwardly loathe each other. But it's all a smoke screen. You love him and he loves you and its been that way since before we met. It'll be that way forever. No matter how many rings you return or ways you change your hair."

"I will not," Veronica replies sharply, trying to keep it together. But then her voice breaks and they both see the uncertainty in her eyes. The rest comes out in a whisper, and it's more of a hope then a fact, "love him forever."

Parker sags, all the anger bleeding from her eyes immediately. "Oh, Veronica," she snorts bitterly, "you make it so hard to hate you. Just when I think I can, you say something so sad like that." She takes a seat on the wooden bench that runs parallel to the row of changing rooms, mentally exhausted. "The two of you have your own breed of masochism," she mumbles sorrowfully.

After a moment Veronica sits next to her. Heavy head falling in her hands, "I'm so tired of talking about this Parker."

"It's scary isn't it?" Parker asks, beginning to sympathize with the former blonde ever so slightly, "This boyfriend game? Especially when you're playing for keeps. And I get that you have a whole host of issues, only one of which I can genuinely sympathize with. But I'd like to reiterate what I told you sophomore year, and junior year, and senior year: Logan, for all his faults, is your guy. He just is. The way he looks at you, it's like…God I'm still jealous after all this time. And for all your butch, loner tendencies it has always come back to him. The problem is that you're both masters of self sabotage."

"He'll never forgive me," Veronica asserts finally, face no longer pained but now drawn into some semblance of acceptance.

"Veronica," Parker exclaims, tone incredulous, "You really can't tell can you? You're not the only one with a soft marshmallow center. I'm pretty sure he could forgive you for anything."

Veronica's eyes are blood shot, and after a moment Parker sighs. "Okay, prepare yourself," she orders, sliding across the bench so there is no longer space between them, "I'm coming in for a hug. It isn't optional so don't try to fight." And then they do hug. Friends more by circumstance then anything else, but at least now no longer inwardly hateful of one another. Closer then ever before.

After a beat Parker stands, "You know, you're the only girl on the planet I'd have to talk into throwing herself at a movie star." And then without a hint of modesty Parker drops her robe and heads across the room. "Come on," she calls over her shoulder, "it's time for the hot stone massages."

6:00 pm Tuesday September 4

"It's like you're trying to kill me," Nadine accuses over the phone, legs propped up on her desk, "Slowly but surely. I have kids you know, you should really think about them the next time you pull a stunt like this."

"Oh you can trust that when I was being run off the road I was completely focused on how it would effect you," Logan deadpans, still sprawled across the chaise. Dick, devoted as ever, is on a food run.

"Your only redeeming quality is that you have the sense to say no comment every time someone sticks a microphone in your mouth," Nadine allows with a grumble, before getting back to work with a sigh, "The official story is that you were running to the store to pick up something up for the NBA star's baby daughter. We're emphasizing your heroics over your motives. You saved the damsel in distress and all that. It's very hot. Will you relay this to Veronica or do I have to?"

"Don't worry about Veronica, Nadine," Logan orders, before explaining warily, "You and I both know she doesn't even say no comment to a microphone."

"At least she seems to have grown out of her bird flipping habit," Nadine observes, allowing a slight affection to seep into her words.

"Give it time," Logan replies with similar amusement.

"Oh, I'm literally counting the seconds until she's home safe and away from you for another couple of years," Nadine reveals. Inspecting her nails now that she's handled the news she deems most important.

However Logan's about to ensure her rude awakening, "Well I'd study up on how to pronounce whatever comes after trillion then," Logan snarks, aware that he's in for it now, "Because Veronica's moving back home."

"Oh Jesus," Nadine blurts after a long pause, sitting ram rod straight in her desk chair as she fears the worst, "what did you do?"

"This has nothing to do with me," Logan exclaims, "It's painfully obvious to all that I've never known what the hell goes on in Veronica's head."

Nadine barely hears a word he says, already starting to scribble briskly on a note pad. She's talking mostly to herself now, "Magazines are gonna have you married in a month, there'll be an elopement and a secret baby. Get used to seeing your own face."

Logan smiles arrogantly, "There are worse things to look at."

"I'm hanging up now," Nadine blanches, fingers craving a glass of hard liquor to grip, "I have to go throw myself off the balcony of my building. The misery twins, back together again."

"We're not back together," Logan asserts loudly, feeling like its become some sort of mantra.

"I'm giving it two weeks," Nadine responds cynically, "And I think even that's ambitious. I'm sending you all the luck in the world though babe. It would make my life a lot easier if you did this star crossed thing for the rest of your lives."

The dial tone blares in his ears. And in the silence that follows he contemplate his smart phone thoughtfully. Guilt gripping his heart like a vise. He can't get the look of her expressionless face out of his mind. He's seen it before, years ago when he found her in a similar state in a parking garage. Then it was because of drugs someone else had given her. He'd been the hero then. And Nadine would make him the hero now. But he knew better. He always would.

He's never wanted to be this guy. Rage stuck his chest, cold and hard like the metal of a belt buckle. It's all just a little too reminiscent of his childhood. He doesn't want to yell at her. To make her feel bad. That has never been what he wanted.

And in the end it's the memory of his mother that makes the decision for him.

6:00 pm Tuesday September 4

She enters the house feeling genuinely refreshed. Whether it's from the beauty treatments or the good cry she had during her stone massage she can't be sure. The masseuse must have thought she was crazy, Mac certainly did, but Parker had reached across the distance and squeezed her hand. And of course that had made it worse and better at the same time.

Alicia is in the kitchen, hair wet from an after work shower. She's puzzling over an ice cream scooper, dropping generous helpings into three bowls. She smiles at Veronica warmly, "We weren't sure when you'd be home. I made a plate for you, it's in the refrigerator if you're hungry. But knowing you and your father I'm assuming you'd prefer a sundae."

Veronica grins wickedly, "Yes please." She's a little overwhelmed at unfamiliar mothering. Mostly she feels guilty at how long it has taken her to be grateful for Alicia. For the woman who takes care of her father now that she herself is basically unreachable. In all forms of the word unfortunately.

Alicia notices the drop of Veronica's smile and sets down the ice cream scooper, "How you feelin' sweetheart?"

Veronica swallows her conflict, and shrugs into feigned happiness, "Much better actually. Maybe there is something to this whole relaxation thing."

Alicia smiles and turns, rummaging through the pantry for a fourth bowl, "Try to fit that advice into conversation with your Dad will you? He just got home, his shift was supposed to end at two."

Veronica's ears perk up. Her dad doesn't work late anymore, not if he doesn't have to. His regular hours are something that he loves about being a sheriff. No. She is sure this is about her. About running into her at home or having to sit through an awkward dinner. She tries not to sound upset but it's a horrible attempt, "Where is he?"

"Out back," Alicia sighs, scrutinizing Veronica's face as only a mother can, "he likes to sit on the porch after a rough day. He used to go for walks with Back Up but now… Veronica is something going on between the two of you?"

She doesn't answer, heads for the back door with only a consolatory, "I'll talk to him."

Fear clouds her head. He has always had the ability to level with her with just a few words. Everyone else she can brush off or tune out. But never him. "You should have read one of my texts," she says as she leans against the door behind him, crossing her arms over her chest, "it would have saved you the trouble of having to avoid me."

"I can't figure out my new Black Berry," he murmurs, turning in the porch swing to look at her reproachfully, "and I wasn't avoiding you Veronica."

She covers the distance between them, taking a seat next to him and trying to start, "Dad-"

But he interrupts, eyes miles away, "Do you remember when you were seven? And you said you wanted to be just like me when you grew up? That you wanted to catch bad guys?"

"I'm not a little girl anymore Dad," she whispers into the chill of the night air, her whole body suddenly going cold. But she relents easily, sad smile sliding across her face, "But yes, I do vaguely recall a mortifying stretch of wearing a paper badge to school."

Keith keeps his face pointed at the sky but his voice is tight and she feels it like a physical weight. The lump in her throat grows to epic proportions as her past peace is leeched away. He continues, "I thought it was cute when you were seven and it was a dream. And then when you were seventeen and it was an aspiration I was wary. I hoped you would grow out of it. Or do something with it that wouldn't put your life at risk on a daily basis." He trails off, rubbing his forehead with a sigh before continuing, "And now you're twenty seven and you have stitches across your face and you're not calling when you need me and I just… you grew up too fast Veronica. And I didn't want this kind of life for you."

After a pause he adds, "I should have done better when you were younger, made it easier for you. You shouldn't have had to take care of me."

"We took care of each other," she argues, biting savagely down on her bottom lip. She hasn't looked more like a child in years. And her hands shake with everything she should say to him. Every little thing he taught her, every way he made her a better person, and all the times he loved her when no else did. Mostly she wants to tell him about the changes she's making. About how she quit her job and the new one she's accepted. But she doesn't think that's the point. That it would make up for all that's happened before this moment.

He reaches across the distance to squeeze her shoulder, finally turning to look at her face. He is older. She hasn't noticed before. But there are wrinkles that she doesn't remember being there, a weariness he's earned in their time apart. "You were a kid," he concludes sadly, "that kind of responsibility, all the positions I let you put yourself in…I'd do it all differently if I could."

"Dad," she replies, pulling a Parker and sliding across the bench to hug him, "none of that was your fault. You were, are, the best thing in my life." She squeezes him tightly, "I love you so much."

"Oh, honey," he exhales into her hair, "you have no idea." He'd keep her in this moment if he could. Trap her here where he can watch over and protect her forever. Because she is a grown up now, but still has so much to learn. So much he should have been teaching her when he was too busy trying to keep their life from shattering into a million pieces.

Darrell calls a moment later. He needs help with a math problem. And after her father pulls away she sits on the porch alone, her cell phone pressed between her palms. She thinks about it briefly, contemplates what she would say if he even answered the phone. And what he would say back.

And then she remembers the arm across her chest as the car ricocheted, the warm hand brushing her ear, sad smiles and the ache in the pit of her stomach. She doesn't know how she let things get so far in the hospital. How they ended up at their unspoken impasse. How with the passage of time she has lost her ability to keep him at arm's length. To detach and see him as an enemy instead of an ally.

It's too risky. He would read something into it, or she would say something she shouldn't. A slippery slope she is already stumbling up. She isn't in the right state to have a conversation with the man who has mostly deserved better then her. She is frazzled and raw and completely unprepared for the new life that is rapidly approaching. She still hasn't figured out how he will fit in. Or if he will even want to.

Alicia comes for her, and she forgets her phone on the porch swing when she goes in for her sundae. It won't be found until morning.

6:05 pm Tuesday September 4

The phone vibrates against the swing. No one answers and a message is left.

"Veronica, hey it's me…it's Logan. I just…I should have said this at the hospital. I'm sorry you were in the car. I'm sorry about the things I said before the accident. I'm glad you're okay. And...I think we should talk. We can't keep up like this, for the sake of the wedding and especially if you're moving back. Are you really moving back?" Pause. "Fuck, just stop by the house tomorrow okay? I'll be reading scripts all day. Even if you're screening right now, which I suspect is the case, come over and we'll talk. The code's 8764. I promise not to be a dick." Pause. "Bye."

Sorry it took so long and that there is minimal LoVe interaction. I'll try to be better but right now I can't make any promises.