Hypothetical Heart (Farewell Fairwood #2)

Chapter 7

7

W aking up in an unfamiliar bedroom is never the best feeling, but it’s especially distressing after the night I had last night.

I cracked the window before I went to bed to let some fresh air in, and the February air has left my room freezing cold.

Wrapping a blanket around myself, I swing my legs over the side of the bed so that I can close it, but before my foot hits the hardwood floor, it hits somebody’s ribcage.

“Holy fuck,” Logan groans, sitting up from where he’s on the floor next to the bed, clutching his ribs. There’s a pillow under him, and a blanket over his lap.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused as to why he chose to sleep on the floor of my bedroom rather than his own bed.

“Good morning to you too,” he says, standing up.

“Did you sleep on the floor?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

“Yeah, and it was freezing. I don’t know how you sleep like that.”

“Why didn't you sleep in the other room with Luke?” I shut the window. “You know, the one with two beds.”

“He tried!” Luke calls from the living room.

I know he did. I watched him walk across the hall into his and Luke’s room after he came in here, checking on me one more time before I fell asleep.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Logan finally answers. “All I could do in the other room was stare at the ceiling and worry about you.”

“So you slept on the floor next to my bed?”

“I just needed to know that you were okay,” he sighs.

I run my hands over my face, not knowing what to say. I knew that last night frazzled Logan to an extent, but I thought he wasn’t as worried once we got home. I figured he was fine.

Both Eloise and Genevieve enter the room, Jameson and Luke following close behind.

“Jesus, it’s cold in here,” Eloise shivers, climbing into the bed and under the covers.

“Are you mad Logan stayed in here last night?” Luke asks me.

“No,” I answer. “I just don’t want anyone to be worried about me. I’m fine.”

“I think we were all a bit worried about you last night, Winnie,” Genevieve says. “We all were thinking about sleeping on your floor. Logan was the one who took one for the team.”

“So what? You’re all going to take shifts sleeping at my bedside? It’s not that big of a deal, guys.” My frustration is getting the best of me, partly because Logan slept on the hard floor in the freezing cold and also because my friends are all walking on eggshells around me.

Logan grabs my wrist, pulling me to face him. “It was all with good intention, Win, and if you don’t want us doing it again, we won’t.”

I focus my attention on Genevieve because she’s the easiest to detect a lie from. She’s also my best friend, and I know she won’t tell me things just because I want to hear them.

Most people would find her a bit intimidating, but I find comfort in her bluntness.

“It was a one-time occurrence after a particularly scary incident,” she says. “It won’t happen again.”

I take a seat on the edge of the bed, and Genevieve follows suit. Logan lies on the bed next to Eloise, sprawling out so his legs fall over mine and Genevieve’s lap, then Luke and Jameson find seats on the floor.

“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate how much you guys care.”

“ D o you even know how to make a fire?” Eloise yells out the kitchen window toward the boys in the backyard.

“Yes, we know how to build a fire,” Logan snarks, throwing down another piece of firewood. “We’re not completely useless.”

“Leave them alone, they have wood and a box of matches, starting a fire is pretty self-explanatory from there,” Genevieve says, just loud enough for them to hear.

“Why don’t you come out here and do it then, Genova?” her boyfriend taunts back.

“Because you were the ones assigned the job of starting the fire while we make food.”

“Why does he call you that?” I whisper to her.

All she does is shrug. “I have no idea. I’ve asked, but he always avoids the question.”

Luke goes to say something in return, but Eloise slams the window shut, drowning out the sound. “Ah, much better.”

“That was mean,” I tell her, going to open the window again, but both Eloise and Genevieve grab my arm, stopping me.

“We don’t need their help and they don’t need ours,” Genevieve says strongly, going back to flattening the hamburger meat into patties.

Why the boys tasked us with grilling burgers, I have no idea. I thought it was a well-known fact that I should not be trusted to cook anything. Eloise can only make pre-packaged food, and Genevieve is more keen on logic than she is craftsmanship.

In all honesty, we would be better off making the fire.

“Do you even know how to start the grill?” I ask, hoping at least one of them does.

One thing about Genevieve is that she’s too strong-willed for her own good. “I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“Who thought it would be a good idea to grill burgers in the middle of the winter?” Eloise sighs, opening the fridge to grab a drink.

“The ones who actually know how to start said grill,” I mutter under my breath.

“We are going to start the grill,” Genevieve says, determined in her own right. “Don’t start flaking now just so the boys will do everything for us. That’s not how this works.”

“I say work smarter, not harder.” Eloise shrugs, hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter.

Genevieve gives her a stern look. “I’m smarter and working harder.”

“Okay, okay.” I laugh. “It really doesn’t matter who does what, it’s all going to get done.”

“I’m not letting Jameson hold this over me,” Genevieve gripes.

“You’re sleeping in his bed. I hardly doubt he’ll hold anything over you,” Eloise rebuttals.

“What?” My head snaps to the side, looking towards Genevieve. Her cheeks are tinted the slightest bit at Eloise’s insinuation. “You slept in his bed last night?”

Last I heard, she and Eloise were staying in a room together.

“Yes, and?” Genevieve recovers quickly. “We’re not in middle school. There’s nothing wrong with me sharing a bed with my boyfriend.”

“Speaking of,” Eloise says, shifting toward me. “You had a sleepover last night too.”

“First of all, I was an unknowing participant. Second of all, Logan was on the floor. That is not the same thing.”

“Okay, but clearly you have certain emotions about it,” Genevieve says.

My brows furrow. “It’s not important.”

The two of them look at me like I’m full of shit. I know it, too.

“It’s Logan. Everything that happens between the two of you is important to you,” Eloise deadpans.

I shrug, not sure exactly how to express what I’m feeling properly. “I feel bad for how I treated him this morning.”

I’ve already hashed this out with him, and it’s shocking our conversation didn’t end with me in tears. I feel bad, Logan doesn’t care, and everything is resolved quickly.

My anxiety, however, is not .

“You were overwhelmed, we could all tell,” Genevieve sympathizes.

“Still, that doesn’t give me the excuse to be mean to him of all people.” I only say that because Logan is the nicest of all of us. He never gives an attitude or makes mean remarks. He’s just perfect.

“It’s okay,” Eloise assures me.

Genevieve nods. “We forgive you, and who knows, you and Logan might be having an actual sleepover tonight.”

“Funny,” I reply sarcastically.

“I don’t care as long as there’s some thick drywall between us,” Eloise jokes, clearly referencing the shared wall between her and Jameson’s room.

Genevieve glowers at her. “Don’t even?—”

“Have you done anything with him?” I ask.

“I’m choosing to stay silent on the topic,” she replies.

Genevieve has never been one to shy away from sex topics. She’s not ashamed, even though her last hookup ended catastrophically, and she usually doesn’t see the point of being embarrassed by taboo topics like I do.

Eloise must be thinking the same thing. “Come on, you’ve never held anything back before.”

Genevieve focuses herself elsewhere, stacking the raw patties up on a paper plate. “This is different.”

“Jameson?” I ask. It’s hard for me to believe he would care if Genevieve were to tell us these things. He’s equally shameless, just slightly quieter.

“My relationship with Jameson is different,” she concedes. “I’m not rushing anything like I have in the past because there are different circumstances with him.”

“Circumstances?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eloise curses. “Just say what you mean.”

Genevieve steps back from the counter, closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath. I will never understand why this is so hard for her, I just know that it is.

“I love him,” she says, and I can hear the way her voice threatens to clog in her throat. “I love him, and I can’t bear the idea of taking our relationship too quickly and losing him.”

“I’ve never even thought about being involved with a man, let alone having sex with one,” Eloise says, making us laugh. “But what I can tell you is that from an outside perspective, we all know that Jameson loves you too, and he has no doubts that he’s going to be with you forever.”

“She’s right.” Genevieve just about jumps out of her skin when she hears the voice behind us.

“How much of that did you hear?” She whips around, facing Jameson, who's standing in the kitchen’s entrance.

“Enough to know that you love me.” He smirks, placing a hand on her lower back.

“Whatever,” she grumbles, leaning toward his embrace.

Jameson leans down, whispering something in her ear before he grabs the plate of burgers from the counter. “Thanks, girls,” he says, nodding as he walks back outside.

“Did he just—” I’m baffled. We’ve been so worried about which of us was going to have to start the grill, just for Jameson to do it for us.

Genevieve laughs.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Eloise hops off the counter, pointing a finger at Genevieve. “You knew that your precious boyfriend was going to cook the burgers this entire time?”

“You really thought I would grill burgers?” She laughs in reply. “I may be stubborn, but I know what I do and don’t want to do, and I definitely don’t want to do that.”

We’re all laughing now because it’s so obvious. Genevieve wouldn’t stand outside trying to light charcoal on fire if she had a gun to her head.

“So, Jameson offered to do it for you, and you accepted,” Eloise states, like we should have known all along.

“Well then, let’s go sit by the fire,” I say, pulling my shoes on and heading for the back door.

L ater that night, we reverted back to our easygoing nights in, with no plans of clubbing in sight.

After it started raining and our fire went out, we brought our half-eaten burgers inside and all took seats around the living room. Eloise, Luke, and I are sitting on the floor around the coffee table, Logan is in the recliner behind me, and Jameson and Genevieve are on the couch.

Some type of murder documentary is playing on the television, but I’ve barely glanced at it. I would rather not have nightmares tonight, thank you.

Eloise and Luke have been going back and forth arguing about the best way to get away with murder, and occasionally Genevieve will butt in on why exactly their plans wouldn’t work.

It’s quite entertaining.

I feel Logan’s foot press into my back as I take the last bite of my burger, and I turn to find him holding out a hand for my plate. “I’ll wash dishes tonight.”

I stand. “I’ll help.”

I’m not even sure anyone else notices us get up and make our way to the kitchen because of how intense their best-way-to-get-away-with-murder conversation has gotten.

“You wash, I’ll dry,” I say, collecting the rest of the dishes and dumping them in the sink.

We wash dishes in silence for a good amount of time, the only sounds traveling through the kitchen being the sink running and Logan scrubbing the plates.

“Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if our parents didn’t become friends in high school?” Logan breaks the silence.

“No…” I reply. “Honestly, it’s something that I really don’t want to think about. I couldn’t imagine not having four built-in best friends growing up.”

“I think we all still could have become friends.” He shrugs. “It seems unlikely that we would have never met, and we all get along so well.”

I laugh. “You’re kidding right?”

“You don’t think so?”

“Logan, we would have never been friends without our parents.” I thought that much was obvious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He turns toward me, and my attention catches on the way his hands flex in the hot water, his muscled forearms covered in soap as he scrubs the dishes.

“We’re all so…” I pause, looking for the right word. “Different.”

“That doesn’t affect the way we get along now, does it?”

“No, but it was our parents’ fault we were together so much when we were younger, which is the only reason we found ways to get along.” I grab another dish from him, wiping it dry before putting it in the cupboard above me. “If we would have just met in school, we wouldn’t have given each other the time of day to really see if we’d get along. We’d just admit we’ re all different and go on with the rest of our days.”

“You might be right.” Logan's head tilts, thinking. “But I’d still like to believe that we’d be friends in every universe.”

Then he turns to face me, and the look in his eyes makes me melt. It’s endearing, really, and it almost makes my heart ricochet out of my body toward him. He truly believes the two of us, and the rest of our friends, would have found our way to each other no matter the circumstances.

“That’s a nice thought.” I smile, my hand falling on top of his on the counter. “You should see what everyone else thinks. They might surprise you.”

“I would bet serious money I could accurately guess what every one of them says.” Logan smirks, washing the last plate.

“Money means nothing to you.” It’s a known fact the Callaghan family is one of the richest in Fairwood. Logan betting money serves no risk to him.

“My kidney, then.”

“You’d bet your kidney?” I know he’s exaggerating, but he’s also that confident.

“I would. Want to bet?”

“No, not really,” I grimace at the idea. “I don’t want your kidney.”

“Fine, if I can guess what all of them say when we ask if they think we’d be friends without our parents, you have to let me read another one of your books.”

My eyebrows draw together in confusion. “You want to read another one?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Okay, deal,” I say, shaking his hand before he tells me his guesses.

Logan walks straight into the living room, and true to his word, he correctly assumes everyone’s answer.

Jameson and Genevieve are both huge fate believers and agree with Logan. We would meet in every universe.

Eloise, on the other hand, doesn’t think so. Her reason is similar to mine; we’re all too different to make the bond on our own.

And Luke, he doesn’t seem too worried about it and asks why we care because all that matters is the fact we’re all friends now.

Remind me never to bet against Logan Callaghan again.