Chapter Fourteen Logan
Chapter Fourteen
Logan
I wake up the next morning with a sense of dread gnawing at me. The bed next to me is empty, the sheets cold. Grace is gone. I sit up, running a hand through my hair as I try to shake off the uneasy feeling that’s settled deep in my gut.
It’s probably nothing, I tell myself. Maybe she went for a walk or wanted some space after everything that happened last night. After the scene with Samantha, I can’t blame her. As I get dressed and head downstairs for breakfast, the tension in my chest tightens with each passing minute.
The dining area is already buzzing with guests, but there’s no sign of Grace. I grab a coffee and scan the room again, hoping she’s just running late. The minutes tick by, and there’s still no sign of her.
I try calling her, my phone pressed to my ear as I pace outside the restaurant, but it goes straight to voicemail. "Grace, it’s me. Just checking in. Call me back when you get this, okay?" I hang up, my stomach twisting with unease. Something doesn’t feel right.
By lunchtime, the feeling has turned into a full-blown panic. She’s nowhere to be found, and her phone is still going unanswered. I check her usual spots—the beach, the resort’s garden—but there’s no trace of her. My mind races with worst-case scenarios, but I push them aside, refusing to believe she’d leave without saying anything.
When I run into Joseph outside by the pool, he looks at me with concern. “You okay, man? You look like hell.”
“Have you seen Grace?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. “She’s not answering her phone, and I haven’t seen her all day.”
Joseph frowns, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t. I figured she was with you. Everything alright between you two?”
I hesitate, not sure how much to tell him. “We’re… going through a rough patch. After what happened last night with Samantha, things got tense. It’s nothing serious.” At least, I hope it’s not. “She probably just needs some time.”
Joseph nods slowly, but I can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “You sure? Samantha was out of line last night. You don’t think that—”
“I know,” I interrupt, trying to brush off the anxiety creeping into my voice. “I’m dealing with it. I’ll talk to Grace. She’s just upset.”
Joseph pats my shoulder, clearly trying to reassure me. “Alright, but if you need anything, let me know.”
I give him a tight nod, though the knot in my chest only tightens. As I make my way back toward the dining area, I spot Grace’s parents sitting with Emily. I don’t know how much they’ve heard about what happened last night, but I know I need to say something before Samantha’s poison spreads further.
I approach the table with a forced smile, trying to appear calm and in control. “Afternoon,” I say, sliding into the seat next to Emily. Her eyes are filled with worry, and I can see Grace’s parents watching me closely, their expressions guarded.
“Where’s Grace?” Emily asks, her tone light but strained.
“She’s… not feeling great,” I lie, hoping to buy some time. “After everything with Samantha last night, she just needed some space. We’re working through it.”
Her parents exchange a glance, and I can feel the weight of their uncertainty pressing down on me. They don’t argue, but I can see the doubt in their eyes. They don’t entirely believe me. To be honest, I don’t know if I believe myself.
“Samantha’s words,” I say quickly, “they’re not true. Grace isn’t in this for anything other than… us. I just want to make that clear. We’re just going through a rough patch, but it’s nothing more than that.”
Grace’s mom nods slowly, but there’s a tightness in her expression. Her dad doesn’t say anything, just watches me with a look I can’t quite read. Emily, however, places a hand on my arm, her voice soft. “Logan, are you sure? I mean, you both seemed… off last night.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’ll be fine. I just need to talk to her.”
I sit there, nodding and pretending to listen as Emily, her parents, and Grace’s parents chat away, their voices a gentle hum in the background. I’m barely processing a word they’re saying. My mind is somewhere else—on Grace, on where she could be, and on what’s happening between us.
I think about last night, about how everything unraveled so fast. My thoughts drift to the times we’ve been together, the intimacy we’ve shared. The sex has been incredible—undeniable chemistry, every moment electric. But it’s not just about that. It’s the way she smiles when she thinks no one’s watching, the softness in her eyes when we’re alone, the way she makes me feel like the best version of myself.
I let my gaze drift across the room to Joseph, who’s standing by the bar, talking to Emily. They’re laughing, their hands brushing casually, and I catch the look they give each other—unspoken, full of meaning. It’s the kind of look that speaks volumes about what they have. The kind of look that says, You’re my person.
It hits me, like a punch to the gut. That’s what I want with Grace. It’s not just about the physical connection, not just about fun or passion. It’s more than that. I want what Joseph and Emily have—something real, something that goes beyond the surface.
I want love.
I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a sharp sound that draws everyone’s attention. Emily looks at me, startled, and so does Joseph. Even Grace’s parents glance up with concerned expressions.
“Logan, are you okay?” Emily asks, her brow furrowing as she studies my face.
I barely register her words, my mind too consumed with one thought—finding Grace. I need to see her, to apologize, to tell her what’s been on my mind, what’s been sitting in my chest like a weight I can’t shake. I need to make her understand that this isn’t just some fling, that I’m all in, that I’m ready for more.
I don’t know where she is.
“Logan?” Joseph’s voice breaks through the haze, his hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on, man?”
“I… I need to find Grace,” I mutter, the urgency building in my voice. “I need to fix this.”
Joseph’s eyes widen, and Emily stands too, worry etched across her face. “Where is she?” Emily asks, glancing around the room as if Grace might suddenly appear. I already know she’s not here. She’s been gone all day, and I’ve been too wrapped up in the chaos to truly look for her.
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice cracking. “She’s not answering her phone. I haven’t seen her since this morning.”
Grace’s mom looks up, her face filled with concern, but I can’t stay here, sitting and waiting any longer. I turn to Joseph. “Have you seen her? Do you know where she might have gone?”
Joseph shakes his head slowly. “No, man. Not since the last time you asked.”
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, feeling the panic creeping in. Grace wouldn’t just leave without saying something, right? The way things went last night… Samantha’s words, the look on Grace’s face—it all flashes back, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve driven her away.
Without another word, I grab my phone, dialing her number again. It rings, but there’s no answer—just the same cold voicemail greeting that’s been haunting me all day. My heart pounds as I hang up, running a hand through my hair in frustration. I’ve been an idiot. I should’ve told her sooner, should’ve been honest about what I feel.
“I need to go,” I say, not even waiting for a response as I step away from the table. I barely hear Joseph call after me or Emily’s concerned voice asking if everything’s okay. It’s not. It won’t be, not until I find Grace and make this right.
As I leave the dining area and head toward the resort’s entrance, one thought keeps playing over and over in my head.
I make a beeline for the room, hoping against hope that maybe she’s returned and just needed some time alone. I burst through the door, scanning the space for any sign of her, but it’s empty. The bed is untouched, the bathroom door wide open. It’s like she never came back after leaving this morning. My heart sinks further.
Next, I rush to the indoor pool. It’s one of her favorite places to relax, and I’ve found her here before when she needed space to think. But as I step into the quiet, echoing room, all I see are a few guests lounging and swimming. No sign of Grace. My pulse quickens with every minute I waste searching.
Frustrated, I head back to reception, barely waiting in line before asking, “Have you seen Grace Turner? Short, curly red hair. She’s been missing all day.”
The receptionist, a young woman with a friendly smile, taps on her computer, then glances up. “Actually, yes. Miss Turner left this morning. She said she was heading to the beach.”
I blink, processing her words. The beach. The memory hits me like a wave—the place where Grace and I had our first "date" picnic. That private spot where everything between us had started to feel real. Of course. That’s where she would go.
“Thanks,” I mutter, already turning away, my heart pounding with renewed urgency. The beach—the place where we’d first started this complicated mess, where things had begun to blur between fake and real.