Hypothetical Heart (Farewell Fairwood #2)

Chapter 26

26

SEPTEMBER

E loise being the first to leave Connecticut was something I don’t think any of us were prepared for.

The six of us spent nearly our entire summer together while also trying to get used to the idea of not seeing each other every day once we all leave.

The past couple weeks have only gotten harder because we’ve all been busy packing and preparing to move out of our childhood homes and into the place we’ll be for the school year.

Early tomorrow morning, the first part of our group is driving to New Haven. Right now, we’re trying not to think about it.

“Genevieve, it’s your turn!” Logan calls from across the table, snapping his fingers.

She turns away from Jameson and back toward the group, dragging her legs off from across his lap as she throws down a card. “Your turn,” she says, looking at Logan.

Everyone else continues throwing down uno cards while I stare at my full hand of green cards, having to draw a new one every time.

“Somebody did not shuffle these cards properly,” I groan when I find another green card being handed to me.

Somehow, we have ended up in Taylor’s Diner. Originally, we came to get dinner, but then we found a deck of uno cards on the bar top, and we’ve been stuck here since.

The rest of the table is deep in their own world, but I can’t stop thinking about how everything’s changing. This moment—sitting here, laughing at the terrible shuffling skills and everyone’s overdramatic complaints about losing—is one of the last we’ll have like this. We’re all hanging onto it, pretending like everything is normal even though we know better.

Logan catches my eye from across the table, his smile faltering slightly as if he’s reading my mind. He’s always been good at that, knowing when I’m stuck in my own head, especially when I’m too quiet.

He raises an eyebrow, silently asking if I’m okay. I force a smile, not ready to have that conversation, not here, not yet.

“So,” Luke says, throwing down a wild card, breaking the silence. “When are we doing this again?”

The question hovers awkwardly in the air, and we all glance at each other. Luke’s always been the optimistic one, the glue holding us together when things get tough, and I think some part of him believes that we can keep doing this—keep pretending the world isn’t about to change.

Eloise lets out a soft laugh, her smile a little sad. “Luke, we’re not going to be able to play Uno every weekend.”

“Well, we should at least try,” he argues, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eloise sighs, a hint of frustration mixing with the sadness. “Yeah, we’ll try. ”

But we all know that’s a lie. Even Luke knows. We won’t admit it, but the reality is that after tomorrow, everything will be different. Eloise is leaving first, and then the rest of us will follow.

No more late-night hangouts at the diner. No more spontaneous sleepovers or lazy afternoons by Hagen’s Lake. These are the moments we’re going to look back on and miss, the moments we’ll talk about when we’re all too far apart to make new ones.

I stare at my cards, the game feeling more and more irrelevant by the second. My throat tightens, and I feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me, thick and heavy.

When did time start moving so fast? One minute, we were teenagers, worrying about homework and curfews, and now… now we’re adults, packing up our lives and leaving everything we’ve ever known behind. It’s a weird feeling.

“I’m going to miss this,” I say quietly, more to myself than anyone else. But the words hang in the air, and suddenly, the game feels like background noise, a distraction from the truth we’re all too afraid to confront.

Genevieve stops mid-laugh, her expression softening as she glances around the table. Her hand rests on Jameson’s knee, and she leans into him slightly. “Me too,” she adds softly. “It won’t be the same, will it?”

“No,” Logan says, his voice steady but with a weight to it that matches the sadness in the air. “It won’t be the same, but that doesn’t mean it’s over.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, there’s a sense of relief. He’s right. Things are changing, but we aren’t saying goodbye forever.

Our lives are about to go in different directions, but that doesn’t mean we’re done with each other. We’ve been through too much to let distance break us apart.

I glance around the table at the people I’ve spent nearly every day with for as long as I can remember.

Eloise, who’s always been the bravest of us.

Genevieve, whose strong will has kept us all afloat.

Jameson, who constantly acts so nonchalant but loves fiercely.

Luke, the jock who has proven himself to be so much more than a meathead football player.

And Logan... Logan, who’s always been the steady one, the person who anchors us all, even when we don’t realize we need it.

“Alright,” Logan says, picking up his cards with a grin, breaking the tension. “Enough of the mushy stuff. Who’s ready to lose?”

Genevieve smirks, grabbing her discarded zip-up jacket off of the booth and launching it at him. It hits him square in the chest, and the rest of us burst into laughter, the heaviness of the moment lifting for just a second.

“Winnie, how’s your foot feeling?” Jameson asks me.

“Free,” I sigh, holding up my Converse-clad foot.

It’s only been a few days since I got the okay to take my boot off, but I still have to stay in supportive shoes for the next bit.

The game continues, and for the next hour or so, we’re just us again—just six friends sitting around a table, playing a stupid card game in a diner that feels more like home than anywhere else. There’s something comforting in that, in the way we can still laugh and tease each other, even with everything looming over us.

As the night drags on, the diner starts to empty out. Eloise’s mom, who’s probably seen us here more times than she can count, gives us a knowing smile as she refills our drinks one last time.

It’s late, and we should probably be heading home soon, but none of us want to leave.

Eventually, the game winds down. Genevieve is crowned the ultimate Uno champion after a particularly brutal round, and Luke declares himself the sorest loser. We’re all laughing, but there’s a bittersweet undercurrent to it now.

I find myself staring out the window, watching the lights of the town flicker in the distance. This place—our home. The thought of leaving it behind, of leaving them behind, feels almost impossible.

Logan taps my hand lightly, pulling me back to the present. I turn to him, and for a moment, it’s just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into the background.

“It’s not the end, you know,” he says quietly, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know.” But even as I say it, I wonder if I really believe it.

In all reality, none of us are going worlds away, but it’s still much further than we’ve ever experienced before.

As the neon lights of Taylor’s Diner flicker behind us, we pile into Logan’s car in a silence that feels heavier than before. The drive back to his place is filled only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional sigh.

When we pull into Logan’s driveway, the house looms like it always has, familiar yet different in the moonlight. It’s been the backdrop to so many of our nights together—sleepovers, pool parties, lazy summer afternoons.

We shuffle inside, dropping our bags and shoes in the hallway like we’ve done a thousand times before. But there’s no rush to settle in this time. Instead, we linger, the air thick with unspoken goodbyes .

Logan heads to the kitchen, pulling out snacks and drinks as if keeping busy will stop the clock from ticking forward.

Genevieve leans against the counter, her arm brushing Jameson’s, while Luke collapses onto the couch with a groan.

“I think I ate too much pie,” he mutters, rubbing his stomach. It’s a weak attempt at lightening the mood, but we all appreciate it, forcing small smiles.

Eloise, though, is quieter than usual. She stands near the window, staring out at the backyard where so many of our memories were made. The hammock still sways gently in the breeze, a reminder of the summers we spent together, carefree and unaware of how quickly time was slipping by.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise glances back at me, her expression unreadable. “Neither can I.”

Logan walks over to the couch, sitting beside Luke and patting the empty spot next to him. “Come on, let’s make this night count. We’ve still got a few hours.”

Eventually, the conversation shifts to memories—funny stories from high school, inside jokes, and the dumb things we did when we were younger. It helps, for a little while, to focus on the past instead of the future.

But then the clock ticks closer to midnight, and the laughter fades. Eloise stands up, stretching as if preparing herself for what’s next. “I should head home,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

The words hang in the air, final and heavy.

No one argues. We all knew this moment was coming.

One by one, we stand, following her to the door. Eloise pauses, turning to face us with a small, sad smile. “This isn’t goodbye, okay? We’ll see each other soon.”

Logan steps forward, pulling her into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Eloise nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You too.”

The rest of us follow, each goodbye feeling like a small piece of our hearts being chipped away. By the time Eloise walks out the door, the silence that follows is deafening.

We stand there for a moment, not knowing what to do now that she’s left.

Finally, Logan breaks the silence. “It’s going to be different, but we’ll get through it. Together.”

I want to believe him. I really do.

After Eloise leaves, the rest of us linger in Logan’s living room, reluctant to break the bond that still holds us together. But one by one, they start to go.

Luke is the first to speak up. “I should probably get going too,” he says as he stands up, stretching his arms overhead, before grabbing his keys off the counter. He gives us all a quick, tight smile. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

Genevieve and Jameson follow after, hands clasped together. They linger by the door, sharing one last look with the rest of us. “We’ll text tomorrow,” Genevieve promises, her voice soft. She smiles, but it’s tinged with a sadness we all feel.

“Definitely,” Logan replies, his voice steady but a bit quieter than usual.

When they’re gone, the house falls into a stillness that feels both heavy and comforting at once. For a moment, neither Logan nor I move. It’s just the two of us now, standing in the quiet of the now empty house.

I take a deep breath, turning toward him. “I should probably go too…” I start, but the words feel wrong, like I’m not meant to leave just yet. I don’t want to. Not tonight. Not when it’s just us.

Logan looks at me, his expression softening. “You don’t have to go,” he says gently, and there’s something unspoken in the way his eyes hold mine. “Stay.”

I hesitate for a moment, but the truth is, I don’t want to face an empty house tonight. Not after everything. I nod. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

He gives me a small smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good.”

We move toward the couch, settling into the same comfortable familiarity we’ve always had. But tonight, it feels different. There’s no one else here to break the quiet, nothing to mask the weight of what’s happening. It’s just us—Winnie and Logan—facing the truth we’ve been avoiding all summer. Everything is changing, and neither of us knows how to stop it.

For a while, we sit in silence. Logan flips through the channels on the TV, but we both know neither of us is really paying attention. It’s just a distraction, something to fill the quiet.

After a while, I speak up. “It feels weird, doesn’t it?”

Logan glances at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “What does?”

“All of this,” I say, gesturing vaguely around the room. “Everyone is leaving. The fact that after tomorrow, nothing will be the same.”

He exhales, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah. It does feel weird. We’ve been together so long, it’s hard to imagine what things will be like without them around all the time.”

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “I know we’re all going to stay in touch, but it still feels… final.”

Logan nods. “It won’t be the same, but it’s not the end, Winnie. Not for us.”

His words hang in the air. I meet his eyes, feeling a familiar warmth spread through my chest, the same warmth that’s always been there when it’s just the two of us.

He’s right—it’s not the end for us. Even with everything changing, Logan and I have always found our way back to each other.

We stay there for a long time, letting the night stretch out as far as it will go. Eventually, the weight of the day catches up with me, and I lean against his shoulder, my eyes growing heavy.

“You can sleep here if you want,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, too tired to argue. “Okay.”

He shifts slightly, resting his arm along the back of the couch, and I settle in beside him. It’s quiet, peaceful, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not thinking about tomorrow or the goodbyes waiting on the horizon.

It’s just Logan and me in the quiet of his house, the world outside fading into the background.

As I drift off to sleep, I feel his hand lightly brush against mine, a soft touch that lingers in the space between us. And for the first time tonight, I believe him.

It’s not the end—not for us.