Chapter 3
Haylee
Logan knew.
Logan knew Melly was Dylan’s daughter.
It was only by some miracle that he hadn’t called her out in front of Ava Young or any number of Sunset Ridge patrons.
But the look of recognition in those caramelly chocolate eyes was undeniable, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she’d imagined it since she dropped Melly offer at her parents’ place an hour ago.
“You haven’t touched your halibut nachos,” Jamie said, stealing one for herself. “Either you’re not feeling well, or you’re a clone. Because the Haylee Evans I know would battle someone to the death if they tried to steal a single chip. I’ve taken three, in case you were counting.”
“It’s been a . . . rough day,” Haylee admitted, letting out a heavy exhale as she played with the straw in her Sprite, wishing it were a margarita.
“On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be?”
“Eleven.”
“Whoa.” Jamie pushed her plate out of the way, planting elbows on the table and leaning in, her expression dropping from teasing to serious. “What happened?”
Haylee bit her bottom lip, debating how much to share with her.
They’d been best friends since kindergarten.
Though they lost touch for a few years after high school, they reconnected when Jamie moved back to Sunset Ridge to get married.
Haylee trusted her implicitly. But that didn’t change the fact she’d told exactly no one who Melly’s father was, despite her family and friends trying to pry the information out of her since she announced she was pregnant at nineteen.
There was no point. Dylan made it very clear that he wanted to focus on his Army career and kids weren’t in his future. It was the reason he broke things off with her. The reason she initially chose not to tell him.
But now, Logan knew about Melly.
Her stomach twisted in knots, robbing her of any appetite.
The secret she’d guarded so fiercely all these years was not going to stay secret for long.
Not anymore. Logan may have let her off the hook at the gift shop, but she suspected it was a one-time courtesy.
He was Dylan’s best friend. He wouldn’t just look the other way.
Part of her wanted to pack her bags and run away until Christmas was over.
Logan couldn’t hang out in Sunset Ridge forever—that uniform implied he had a home base to report to sooner or later.
Another part of her wanted to find him tonight to clear this up right now.
The thought of waiting until lunch tomorrow tortured her. How would she sleep tonight?
But it served her right.
She’d brought this on herself.
“You can trust me, you know,” Jamie said, any hint of humor gone from her compassionate tone. Her eyebrows drew together, making Haylee feel even guiltier than she already did. “But if you’re not ready to talk, please don’t feel any pressure. Just know I’m here for you.”
Haylee was so used to keeping this secret, that the idea of sharing it felt taboo. But if Logan knew, the people closest to her deserved to know too. Jamie would be the kindest to her of anyone on that list, so who better to rip off the Band-Aid with than her childhood best friend?
With a shaky hand, Haylee pulled the unopened envelope from her purse, the one with her name handwritten on the front, and set it on the table.
“What’s this?” Jamie asked, reaching for it.
Haylee grabbed for it first. “I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Why not? Did you win a jackpot or something? Or wait! Did some long-lost relative leave you their estate with a giant Victorian house? Josh won’t mind me sneaking off for a quick vacation to check it out with you.
Just to make sure there’s no ghosts or, like, bodies hidden in the walls.
Please tell me you inherited a Victorian mansion. ”
“You’ve been reading too many cozy mysteries,” she playfully accused, grateful for her friend’s runaway train of thought that helped uncoil some of the tension in the pit of her stomach.
“And you are obviously behind on your reading goal this year.”
“Don’t remind me,” she mumbled.
“So, it’s not some cool inheritance?” Jamie nodded toward the envelope Haylee gripped tightly.
“Sorry, it’s not.”
“Too bad.”
“Yeah, too bad.” It would be so much less complicated—and way more fun—if that letter promised to make her the main character in some whimsical plot of a mystery novel.
“So, if there’s no key to a cozy mystery lover’s dream house, what’s in the envelope?”
“It’s a letter.” Haylee took a deep breath. “From—”
“There she is!” Sadie announced, parading toward their table. Wavy red hair hung down her back in a long, loose ponytail. She wore bright red leggings adorned in Christmas lights and reindeer.
Laurel followed behind her, also dressed in holiday fitness attire, and both sisters slipped into the empty seats around the table.
They’d invited her to holiday Zumba tonight, but she declined due to already having plans with Jamie.
At the time, halibut nachos were preferrable to sweating and gasping for air.
But now, she wondered if a workout might help calm her out-of-control anxiety.
Hard to be worried about real-life problems when Mariah Carey robbed one of their ability to breathe during a rigorous dance remix of “All I Want for Christmas.”
“I want to hear all about this mysterious stranger in a leather jacket who overpaid for one of your Christmas trees,” Sadie cooed as she waved the server over.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Haylee yanked the letter off the table and stuffed it back into her purse.
Jamie’s mouth puckered in a silent variation of, Seriously. Are you okay?
Haylee frowned as if to say, Yes. Shut up. She’d expected her sisters to ambush her sooner or later, but she thought she’d at least get to enjoy dessert first.
“What was that?” Laurel asked.
“Nothing.”
“It’s a letter,” Sadie said. “Is he writing you love notes already? Haylee Jean Evans, you’ve been holding out on us! You told us you weren’t dating until Melly started middle school.”
The server gave Haylee the briefest reprieve from Sadie’s interrogation, but she could feel the weight of Jamie’s confused gaze.
“Is this why you’re at an eleven?” Jamie asked after the server took orders for the newcomers and promised refills for them. Haylee resisted the urge to order a margarita. Though Melly would be at her grandparents’ for a sleepover, she still owed Allie a trip to the park when she got home.
“It’s complicated.”
Despite Haylee’s efforts to keep her voice low enough so only Jamie could hear, Sadie’s bat-like hearing thwarted her efforts.
“What’s complicated about it? He obviously likes you,” Sadie said.
“He likes you?” Jamie repeated.
“I don’t even know him.”
“What’s his name?” Sadie pressed.
“Logan,” Laurel volunteered.
“Where is this Logan from?” Jamie asked. So much for an ally.
“He’s just passing through,” Haylee said. “It’s nothing—”
“He spent two hundred and seventy-five dollars on a three-foot Christmas tree you decorated for the store display just to get a lunch date with you,” Laurel countered. “He likes you.”
If only it were that simple, maybe it would be nice to have a handsome stranger go so far out of his way to win her affection. Like one of those cozy Christmas movies she enjoyed binging this time of year.
But meeting for lunch and being taken to lunch were two different things entirely. And Logan was meeting her for lunch, all because of that letter. Once she read the letter, maybe asked a couple questions about Melly, he’d leave, never to be heard from again.
For the briefest of moments, she considered ripping the letter open and reading it aloud to the group just to get it over with.
The sooner she read it, the sooner Captain Logan Riley would leave her alone.
Her fingertips grazed the envelope stashed in her purse, but they retreated when the server returned with a tray full of drinks.
The server set a strawberry margarita in front of Sadie, and Haylee gave her an inquisitive look.
Her middle sister was three months pregnant, not that anyone could tell by looking at her.
Her baby bump was adorable, she could put even the most fit people to shame in Zumba, and she had yet to complain once about morning sickness.
Haylee envied her that. With Melly, she’d been sick her entire first trimester.
“It’s not for me, silly,” Sadie said, sliding it across the table to her.
“I can’t—”
“You can.” Sadie nudged it a little closer.
“Drink up and tell us all about this yummy Logan,” Jamie agreed.
“Whose side are you on?” Haylee gasped.
“We’re all Team Haylee,” Laurel insisted. “But if Logan turns out to be a decent guy—which, considering the man is in town with his grandma, I feel the odds are in his favor—we might be Team Logan, too. I didn’t get enough time to interrogate him, so the jury is still out.”
This was getting entirely out of hand. Haylee wished for her phone to ping with a plea from her parents to pick up Melly. Or a neighbor complaining that Allie was howling in their apartment again. Anything to avoid this out-of-hand conversation.
“Where’s he taking you for lunch tomorrow?” Sadie asked, interlocking her fingers and resting her chin against them.
They hadn’t cemented those plans, but Haylee didn’t want to admit that. Instead, she busied her lips with the straw in her margarita. It was tasty. Sweet, blended strawberry overpowered most of the tequila flavor. Instantly, her tension melted away and a hint of her appetite returned.
“Have you exchanged phone numbers?” Laurel asked.
Haylee stuffed a nacho in her mouth, shaking her head in response. Logan hadn’t asked for her number, which only cemented the fact he wasn’t interested in dating her. This was all business. A favor to a late friend.
“Is he a dog or cat person?” Jamie asked.
“Dog person,” Laurel answered. “He had a German Shepherd with him at the store. He and Allie had a moment.”