Chapter 5
The sun has fully set, and I find myself with aching cheeks from smiling way too much. We’re still sipping our drinks, surrounded by the soft glow of lanterns that illuminate the patio. Most of the other folks are gone; only Logan and I, plus two middle-aged women, remain. The sound of waves crashing against the shore creates a soothing symphony, while the scent of salt in the air fills my lungs with each breath.
God, I love it here already.
And I just can’t get over how easy it is to be with Logan. It feels like I never left.
Well, sort of.
He’s very obviously a man now. I skipped out on his awkward teens and that early twenties phase when men are still growing into themselves. And I’m kind of disappointed I did because I’m reminded of exactly how much he mattered to me. We weren’t best friends by accident.
It was a good thing we found each other when I arrived in Red Lake with no friends and no knowledge of the English language. Logan didn’t care if I couldn’t speak English yet, or if I had weird tendencies like singing to myself in the playground or staring at the clouds in silence for long stretches of time. He was immediately drawn to me, and I to him.
Learning English was much faster when I could practice with a friend, and I was always there to scream at the bigger kids who constantly picked on him. And even though he’d tell me to stop sticking up for him, there was no way I’d leave him defenseless. Just like there was no way he’d leave me to fend for myself if our roles had ever been reversed.
I still remember the devastation in his eyes when I’d told him about our move back to Montreal. Bringing up this image twists my insides like a vice. Jasper dumping me felt horrible—it was one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever gone through—but it still doesn’t compare to being ripped away from Logan back then.
If only we’d have stayed in touch. Instead, I went ahead and ruined it.
As the warm evening air turns cool, the familiarity of our conversation wraps around me like a heated blanket despite the bitter taste these memories bring back. I can’t help but be proud of this man who used to be everything to me. He’s living his dream career, and apparently, his performance has been impressive enough that they’ve granted him this summer sabbatical.
Not that it surprises me. He was always whip-smart.
“Your hair’s gotten longer,” Logan observes, reaching out and gently running his fingers through the ends, which are now long enough to touch my hips. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but hold my breath.
“Yeah, I’ve been letting it grow,” I reply, suddenly aware of the electricity in the air between us. I want to ignore it because the last thing Logan probably needs right now is to become a rebound to a stressed out, just-about-to-turn-thirty mess of a woman.
“Looks good on you,” he says with a smile, his gaze lingering on me for just a moment too long. I swallow hard, trying to brush off the flushed look on my face.
“Meh, it kind of washes me out,” I deflect, bringing my eyes down. “I’m thinking of cutting it back to how it used to be.”
He laughs, which isn’t the reaction I’d been expecting.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s just …” He chuckles again. “Some things don’t change.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you could never take a compliment, even today, when you’re arguably the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”
Forget being flushed. Now, the entirety of my body’s blood supply rushes to my face. I must look like a red tomato. My lips squeeze together as my heart rate picks up. I push through, trying to find a way to shift the focus from me to him. “Well, you’re not looking too bad yourself.” I steal one glance at him and realize how much I mean it.
Logan is definitely not what some women would call a ‘hunk.’ And that’s a good thing because that body shape has never been my type. I like my men strong but slender, with dark features and glasses, and that’s exactly what I’m looking at right now. There’s something endearing about his scruffy style and thick, curly locks. He’s not tall, but he’s filled out enough to have me imagining what it would feel like to bury my face into his neck and drown in his arms.
Yup. This grown-up version of my childhood best friend is definitely my type.
Oh, I’m in trouble.
“If you say so,” he responds shyly.
“Well, well, well, now who can’t take a compliment?”
“I guess neither of us have really ever been champions at that, huh?” He sighs and finishes his beer in one final swig.
I imitate him and finish off my own drink, then groan as I sink against the table. “Ugh. I need to get to bed so I can get up tomorrow and start this stupid website copy project.”
“Wow, looks like you love your job,” he remarks sarcastically.
“No, I do.” I sit up straight again, wary not to look like the lazy, burnt-out writer I tend to feel like. “It’s just …”
You’re a fraud. You’re not even worth a tenth of what they paid you. No one loves you.
“I need to write super emotional, transformational descriptions of this retreat so people can’t help but book their stay right after reading the website,” I say instead. “But it’s kind of hard to write that way when all I feel is …”
Discarded like an old garbage bag. Like time is zooming by way too fast, and I’m shriveling up, and no man will ever want me.
“Hmm,” Logan says, squinting his eyes in thought. “Less than inspired?”
That’s certainly one way to put it. “Yeah, something like that.” I gaze back towards the sea, which has calmed down by now. The moonlight dances across the calm surface.
Part of me wants to tell him how I really feel. But I have no right, not after how I treated him. I don’t deserve to trauma dump all over him hours after we reconnected.
“I’ve got an idea then,” he says with a grin, his hand resting on my arm.
“Oh?” I can’t decide whether to focus on his burning gaze or his warm touch on my arm. He’s looking at me as if he cannot see anything else.
It’s dizzying.
And confusing. He’s acting as if nothing ever happened between us that night.
“How about you let me take you on a tour of some inspiring activities around the coast?” he suggests, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I mean, you can spend the month in your cabin like a hermit and just stare at the ocean. Not a bad choice, in all honesty. But since we’re both here, and since I’ve been here for a while now, I don’t see why you wouldn’t take advantage of it.”
His genuine desire to support my creative process warms my heart. But beneath the surface, I’m flooded with doubt.
It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with him. Right now, I’m resisting the urge to meet his thoughtful gesture with a close embrace. I’d want nothing more than to feel his arms around me again, especially now that his forearms are tantalizing me.
But things can’t be like they were before. I already know that just by how taut the air feels when I’m near him. And the last thing I want is for me to succumb to those feelings and use him like a rebound.
Use him like I did that night.
Plus, I am not ready for the inevitable moment he dumps my ass when he realizes how much of a mess I still am.
With a shaky breath, I force a smile and shake my head. “Logan, that sounds lovely, but I don’t want to be a burden or take up too much of your time.”
“Are you kidding?” he replies, his eyes widening in surprise. “Avery … I’d love to do this with you. How am I not going to jump at the chance to get to know my best friend again?”
But the more he insists, the stronger my resolve becomes. My hands clench into fists, hidden beneath the table, as I fight the urge to give in to his offer.
“Really, Logan,” I say softly, avoiding his gaze. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ll figure things out on my own. I don’t want to impose.”
He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to uncover the truth behind my words. “I already told you that’s not an issue. So what’s really going on?”
I take in all of him—the curve of his smile, the way his hair catches the moonlight. It’s difficult to describe how it feels to be around him—me, someone who’s a sucker for words, can’t find the words to pin him down.
But the closest I can find is home.
A cool breeze brushes against my skin, carrying the scent of salt and sea. I shiver involuntarily, but Logan’s hand on my arm warms me instantly. “You can tell me to fuck off if you want to.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips.
My heart skips a beat, and I’m suddenly very aware of his fingers gently gripping my arm, sending sparks racing through my veins.
Even after the way I abruptly shut things down between us, does he really still want to spend time with me?
Maybe he does. Maybe, after all this time, he’s forgiven me, even though I never asked for it. That would be such a Logan thing to do.
Swallowing hard, I manage a weak smile. “I’m not going to tell you to fuck off.”
“Okay, good, because I was bluffing. I would very much hate for you to tell me to fuck off,” he replies, releasing my arm but not breaking eye contact. We sit in silence for a moment, feeling the heat between us, before he grins and leans back in his chair.
“Okay,” I agree quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”
“Deal,” he declares, extending his hand for a handshake. I take it, feeling the electric charge between us once more, and we seal our promise with a firm grip.
Our gazes meet, and I almost drown in the depths of his hazel eyes. The desire within me is so strong that I could cut through it with a knife. And instead of shying away from it, I allow myself to fully experience it. Even if I have no intention of acting on it, just letting this want for him wash over me feels nice.
At least, it’s nicer than anything I’ve been feeling over the last month. For the first time, I’m starting to feel like it’s possible to long to be in the arms of someone other than Jasper.
Even if it’s just to fantasize about.