Logan sits in a nearly empty bar, years after she's dead and gone. There's bad whiskey in his hand, but he doesn't care about it anymore. He hasn't cared about what he's drinking for years now. Just as long as its alcohol and promises to make him forget the girl who died, the father who killed her, and the mother who left him behind.
But there are nights when he can't forget all that. Like tonight, when he finds himself watching the redhead in the back of the bar, and the way she laughs like life's going to end at any minute and smiles like the whole word is watching. But Logan isn't really. She's not really who he's watching. He just says that when anyone asks, and no one blames him. She's beautiful and lively, and her dress hugs her small curves like someone made it just for her. She's the kind of girl everyone wants to get a good look at it because she's the kind of girl most me would never have.
He's really watching the man she's with for the moment. The one with the ice blond hair and the dark, cold eyes. Logan watches him because he knows this man, because he is this man. This blond stranger is in love with a woman who doesn't love him, who really can't love any one person. She's just biding her time with him, and he can't help but let her use him because she's everything, everything he could ever want. He wants to drown in her, die with her, and give her the world. But all she wants is a few hours between filthy sheets and some laughs. She'll be gone before he wakes up in the morning, and he knows it. He kisses her anyway.
He doesn't know their names, but in his mind, he calls them Lilly and Logan because that's really who they are.