Home > More Than Him (More Than #3)

More Than Him (More Than #3)
Author: Jay McLean


Five weeks post-Logan


It had been five weeks since I’d seen him. I hadn’t heard from him once. Not a thing. And I think it’s for the best. I think that maybe I needed a clean break; A way to completely erase him from my life. I’d told Micky and Lucy, and they understood. They knew that being around them might mean being around him, or even hearing about him. And I couldn't do that to myself. Not now. Not yet. I was back to where I was when I’d first got here; trying to do everything I could to avoid him.

"I have something to tell you." Ethan turned the TV off, and I faced him. He was home more often now, and I knew why. He was worried about me. He thought I’d turned into the girl from that summer. But I wasn’t. Not really. I was nowhere near as broken as I was then. Maybe it was because I was immune to the fucked up ways of Logan Matthews. Maybe it was because I’d come to accept the fact that maybe—just maybe it was my fault. That I never should have taken him back the first time. Or the second time. Or the third. Whatever it was, I didn’t care. I was over it.

"Dimmy." He tried to get my attention again.

"What? What do you have to tell me? If it’s about his room—not yet, okay? Just wait . . . another week. I’ve got to go in there and clear out my stuff."

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t over it yet. But I was close.

"No." He shook his head. "That’s not it. But, uh, it’s about him."

I looked away. "Then I don’t want to know."

"Dimmy, I think you need to know."

"I don’t think I need to know shit about him anymore, E. I’m done with him."

"He’s gone."

My head whipped to face his. "What do you mean he’s gone?"

"Like, gone. Away. Out of the country. He’s traveling the world, or some shit. I don’t know." He shrugged.

"What? How? What about college? What about med school? Traveling where?"

"Dim, I don’t know. I bumped into James today and he asked how you felt about Logan experiencing the world indefinitely, or something."


"Seriously, I don’t know. I know as much as I just told you. Look, I’m just telling you so that you know it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about bumping into him on campus or anything. You can hang out with your friends again. He won’t be there. I just wanted you to know. And honestly, Dim, you fucking deserve to know. He should have at least told you that much."

He was right. I at least deserved that.

"Don’t cry," he said, standing up. I didn’t know I was. "He doesn’t deserve any more of your tears. I won’t let it happen."

I couldn’t speak, and even if I could, I don’t think I’d have the words.

He left the room just before there was a knock on the door.


"Hey." It was Jake. He removed his cap and ran his hands through his messy dark hair. "Uh, how . . . how are you? Is that a stupid question? Stupid, right? Of course you’re not doing well. I mean, with the whole beating and . . . shit . . . I’m sorry . . . Um, can I do any—"

"Jake," I cut in. "What’s up? What are you doing here?" I told Micky and Lucy that I just needed some time to get over what had happened, and that I wanted to cut off all ties I had with Logan. This included Jake—so I had no idea what the hell he was doing standing at my front door. I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh." His eyes widened in surprise. Clearing his throat, he said, "Look, I know that you don’t want to see me or anyone that has—" A car pulled into the driveway interrupting his speech. Cameron stepped out, throwing the keys in the air and catching them.

What the hell?

"Hey," Jake said to Cam.

"'Sup?" Cam replied, walking toward us.

"You made good time," Jake spoke, looking at his watch.

"No traffic," Cam responded.

"That it?" Jake asked, jerking his head behind Cam.

"GUYS!" I snapped. "What are you doing here?"

They both turned to me.

Jake cleared his throat again, and then sighed. Cam spoke for him, "Logan gave us a task. Actually two tasks, well three if you include—"

"What are you talking about?" My arms crossed and my eyes thinned to slits. I was irritated, close to shutting the door in their damn faces.

Jake stepped forward. "Logan wanted us to take care of some stuff for him."

I waited.

"Shit," he mumbled.

Then Cam spoke, "He got us to trade in his car, and he got you this." He handed me the keys.

I threw them back at him like they were a ball of fire in my hands. "I don’t want anything from him."

"It’s kind of our mission you accept them," he stated, shrugging.

"His dad wrote out a check with the leftover money from the trade and paid some of your tuition," Jake said.

"What?" I didn’t know if I was angry or pissed, or hurt or grateful. I wiped my face and squared my shoulders. "I can’t accept this."

"You kind of—" Jake started, but Cam cut him off.

"Leave it, man," he told Jake, and asked him, "Could you give us a minute?"

Jake nodded and headed for his car. Then, it was just Cam and I.

Face to face.


"Logan’s an asshole," he said, breaking the tension.

"No shit."

"He really wanted to give you this." He jerked his head in the direction of the car behind him. It was a green hatchback of some kind.

"I’m not taking it." I was firm, probably harsher than I should be.

"Fine," he sighed. "Look, I know we didn’t really get to know each other that well, and we didn’t really run in the same circles or whatever, but um, Lucy—she kind of misses the shit out of you. So, I don't know. Maybe you could call her or something?"

I nodded.

"Don’t cry," he said.

"Shit," I spat. "I keep doing that."

"Doing what?"




"I might see you around, Amanda."

"Okay," I said.

He lifted his arm, threw the keys into the house behind me, and bolted for Jake’s truck.

My head spun to find where the keys had landed, and by the time I'd turned around, he was gone, and so was Jake, and so was Jake’s truck.

"Assholes," I said to myself. I closed the door and picked up the keys.

"What was that about?" Ethan asked. His hair was wet. His clothes fresh out of the laundry; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower.

"Logan traded in his car and got me one, and used the leftover money to pay my tuition," I said flatly.

"Good." He made himself comfortable on the sofa, picked up the remote and turned the TV back on. "At least he’s done one thing right by you."






"Are you actually going to drive it today, or just stare at it again?"

"Shut up," I told Ethan as he stepped out of the house and started making his way over to his own car.

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