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@everydayhustlin
Logan Gray has told us exactly who he is, again and again. He cheated on Willow Grace, so of course he cheated on Matthew Cole, too. Mattie seems like a sweetheart, and he deserves better.
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Video begins:
YouTube personality star Shaina Lively sits in front of bright yellow lights. Her eyes are puffy and red. She sniffs as she looks into the camera. She begins in her trademark Southern accent （which some, in the comments, have suggested is fake）：
“Mattie Cole has had his heart broken by Logan Gray.” She pauses. “I mean, I haven’t actually seen him say that his heart was broken, but I’m assuming that it was, given those horrific photos that were leaked.”
She blinks and wipes the corner of her eye, trying not to cry.
“I’m sorry, y’all. There’s just something about this story that really does something to my heart. Matthew Cole deserves so much more than to be treated like crap by someone like Gray.
“It reminds me of the way I’ve ended up in cycles before, you know? I always find the same guys to run back to. The same ones who always treat me awfully in the end, like I’m not good enough for love. It’s amazing how the same cycle just keeps appearing again and again until we’re able to make a change. Like the same thing will keep happening until we start to heal. My exes even all look the same.”
She laughs and wipes her face. “Ugh! It’s not like I even know Mattie. We’re not close friends. I don’t know why I’m so emotional.
“Anyway, I didn’t mean to come on here and talk about my personal life today. I just hope that Matthew Cole isn’t trapped in a cycle like I was. I hope he can see that he is worth that starry-eyed, head-in-the-clouds romantic love where he’s doted on by someone who wants him to be happy. I hope I figure out the same thing for myself, too.”
Shaina smiles through the tears. “Well, that’s all for now! Until next time.”
Video ends.
Mattie
I knock on Logan’s apartment door. I don’t know if he even wants me here. I’ve been in LA for three days now, going back and forth on whether I should just come over, and I finally gave in. My insecure fear has reached a crescendo. Isn’t it possible that he never actually cared about me? Maybe I’m being a stalker now, and I just can’t get the hint that he doesn’t want me anymore. And even if those fears are wrong—even if he does love me, but he’s struggling to show it…I’m still confused about the line between supporting him and caring for myself. I deserve more than this. I’ve spoken to him, multiple times, about how I deserve more.
The door opens. I jump back, startled. I’d stopped knocking for a while, only scrolling through my phone, thinking about calling Logan one more time. He stands in the doorway, hair in his eyes and bags so dark they look like bruises. I can see behind him that his apartment is a mess again. I meet his gaze. It’s our first time seeing each other in over a month. His stare is shuttered, guarded, and…
I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I can continue to break down Logan’s walls in an attempt to save him. I’m not even sure he wants the help to change—and maybe I should be focusing on saving myself.
“Why haven’t you been answering me?” I ask him, voice low. “My calls, my texts…”
He shrugs. It’s the typical Logan Gray shrug, like he can’t be bothered to give a fuck. “Got bored.”
And this. Not only are his walls back up, but he’s on the offensive again—ready to hurt whoever he needs to if it means he’ll feel safe. I want to cry. For him and for me. But there’s anger, too. “Bored of me? Bored of the relationship?” I ask him. “Bored of what, Logan?”
He leans against the doorframe, watching me closely.
“You were with Briggs,” I say. “Why?”
“He invited me to lunch.”
“He hurt you.” I take a breath. Maybe it isn’t my place, to tell him where he can and can’t go, who he can be with, even if it was someone who attacked him. Even if it feels like he met up with Briggs because he’s still trapped by his trauma. “Why did you kiss him?”
“I can kiss whoever I want, can’t I?”
“I fought for us,” I tell him. “I want you to know that. I told Vanessa to fuck off, basically. I said that our relationship is real, and that I care about you, because it’s true. I love you, Logan.”
He stops looking at me. He stares hard at the ground. I want to touch his cheek, ask him to look at me, check and see if he’s still here with me.
I clench my hand to my side. “But I can’t do this. Not anymore. You refuse to work on yourself. You refuse to change. I can’t force you to trust me or anyone else. I can’t force you to stop harming others around you because you’ve been hurt yourself. I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. You know that I am. But that doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated this way.”
And maybe that’s been a part of the problem all along also. I’ve felt sorry for him. I’ve pitied him. That’s wrong of me, too, to think of him as a victim who needs me. Logan doesn’t look up from his feet. “I can’t make you stop hurting me,” I tell him. “But I can do what I need for myself.”
I pause. It’s painful to say these words.
He doesn’t respond. He barely breathes.
“It’s like you put your life and your world into acting so that you can live out other characters’ stories without having to look at your own. Without having to face yourself and make the changes that you need to make.”
Logan opens his mouth once, and then again, like he’s trying to force himself to speak. I wait. It feels like a full minute passes of just us breathing and sharing the same space.
“I tried,” he eventually says.
Is trying enough? “You tried, and then—what, you gave up?”
“It isn’t as easy as you make it seem. To change. To become a different person.”
My voice gets quiet. “You’ve been through a lot of shit, Logan. There’s a lot you still need to heal. I thought I could be a part of that for you. Maybe that’s on me. I’m sorry. I think a part of me did have a hero complex. I wanted to save you. But that isn’t my place. I don’t think I can do that for you. Me, or anyone else, but yourself.”
“How?” His voice sounds so small.
“I don’t know,” I say. I’m also whispering. “Therapy, maybe.” I’d suggested it to him before, but he’d laughed at the idea then. In his silence, I wonder if he’s seriously considering it now. “Maybe—a place like rehab or something, that can give the support you need. Let you get out of the city and away from the industry and focus on yourself for a while.”
He’s quiet, but I know he has more to say. He clenches his jaw. His eyes are wet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so much. I care about you. I don’t always know how to say it or show it, but I do.”
I wish I could say it was okay. That we can begin again, and maybe this time, things will change. “I’m sorry, too,” I tell him.