Logan
“Istill can’t believe what Gregg wrote on your hat,” Ellie said between gasps of laughter, practically doubled over in the passenger seat. Her fit of giggles was contagious, pulling laughter from me as well until my stomach ached.
“Okay, but we’ve gotta give it to him,” I said, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “Hercules called, he wants his muscles back was solid. Almost as good as that Princess Peach line.”
Ellie snorted again, still wearing the ridiculous hat as we drove toward the motel for the night. In thick, uneven Sharpie were the words: Needs attention like oxygen scrawled across the front. It bobbed with every bump in the road.
“I’m never taking this off,” she declared proudly, adjusting it on her head. “This is a core memory now.”
Seeing her like this—laughing, light—meant more than I could say.
She was hurting, still carrying the weight of everything that had happened, and yet she was smiling.
Glowing. It felt like a privilege to witness.
Still, I couldn’t forget the image of her showing up on my porch, red-eyed and broken.
I’d promised her I wouldn’t push… not yet.
This trip was about her. Showing her she wasn’t alone, that with time, healing would be possible. That I was here, and I always would be.
We pulled into the motel just as the sun began to dip low in the sky. It was simple, nothing fancy. A row of rooms stretched across two levels, framed by blooming pink flowers in neatly kept beds. The neon vacancy sign buzzed quietly above the office.
I’d booked two rooms, assuming Ellie would want space. We agreed that she planned the fun, and I handled the logistics. So far, it worked for us.
We grabbed our bags from the back of my truck and made our way inside, the bell over the lobby door chiming as we stepped in. A petite woman with a swinging blond bob looked up and beamed like we’d just made her day.
“Welcome!” she sang, clapping her hands. “You two are my first guests today! If I were handing out prizes for that, you’d win something big!”
“What would we win?” Ellie asked, leaning onto the counter, her voice light with curiosity.
The woman paused, tapping her chin with her pen. “Hmm. I’ll need more time to come up with something, but it would be… magnificent.”
Ellie gave me a sideways glance and let out a soft laugh under her breath.
The woman typed away on the old desktop, squinting at the screen. Then she looked up at me. Then back to the screen. Then up again. Finally, she lit up with recognition.
“You must be Logan Walker,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “And this must be…” She turned her attention to Ellie and broke into a laugh. “Ellie! With the silly hat! Don’t tell me that roadside diner off Interstate 10 got you too?”
Ellie and I shared a look, then nodded in unison.
“Happens all the time,” the woman said, grabbing two key cards and sliding them into paper sleeves.
“What gave away who we were?” I asked.
“Logan Walker feels like a manly name and he is definitely that. And…” she pointed at me. “You don’t peg me as a,” she glanced down at her computer, “Geoff, Richard, or a Ferdinan, so.”
I put my hands up in a mock surrender.
“You’re in room 210,” she told me, and then handed the second card to Ellie. “And this beautiful woman is in 211.”
Ellie’s smile faltered just slightly. Her brows knit together as she glanced down at the card in her hand, lips parting like she was about to say something but thought better of it.
I reached for my key while watching her carefully.
“Everything okay?” I asked gently.
She tucked the card into her palm and looked up with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Something was bothering her, and I wasn’t sure if it was the motel or me.
“Oh, by the way,” the woman behind the counter said, her voice brightening as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “our local bar is offering free line dancing classes tonight. I highly suggest you two go. It’s a great time, usually packed with people passing through.
Not much else to do around here.” She gestured, her hands moving rapidly to show us the directions.
“It’s walking distance. Just head outside, make a right, then take your first left. You can’t miss it.”
“That sounds awesome,” Ellie said with a grin. “Thank you.”
We said our goodbyes and stepped back into the warm summer evening, slowly making our way up the outdoor stairs to the second floor where our rooms were.
I stayed quiet, unsure whether the shift in her expression earlier meant something or if I was just imagining things. I’d overthink it later. For now, I’d play it cool.
When we reached our doors, Ellie paused and turned to me, a teasing sparkle in her eye.
“We’re totally going to that line dancing,” she said. “So get ready. Two hours. I need a nap and a shower.”
A shower did sound good. After a full day on the road and that wild diner experience, washing off the travel grime was necessary.
“You got it,” I replied with a casual wink.
She laughed softly, then tapped her keycard and disappeared inside her room. I waited until I heard the soft click of her door before swiping into mine.
The motel room was simple—one bed in the center with a faded red comforter, dated floral curtains, and a faint trace of bleach still lingering in the air. I tossed my bag onto the table, pulled off my hat, and ran a hand through my messy curls before flopping onto the bed in a starfish sprawl.
I stared at the ceiling, letting out a long exhale.
Then, my thoughts drifted.
Ellie was just a few feet away on the other side of this very wall. Showering. The image came uninvited but vivid—her stepping beneath a stream of hot water, her skin slick and flushed, hair tumbling over her shoulders as steam swirled around her.
My chest rose slowly, then fell again, the heat under my skin building.
God, she was beautiful. Not just in the obvious, jaw-dropping kind of way, but in how she moved through the world. So full of light. So fiercely kind. She gave everything—her time, her laughter, her heart—without asking for much in return.
Ellie Cassidy was the kind of woman a man didn’t just want… she was the kind you waited for, the kind you chose every time, even in silence.
I sat up slowly, scrubbing my hands down my face before pushing myself off the bed.
I needed a shower, definitely cold, because the ache pressing behind my jeans wasn’t going anywhere if I kept thinking about her.
About her being just on the other side of that wall, warm and naked and completely out of reach.
She had no idea that she starred in every fantasy I’d ever had. No idea that every woman I’d been with was only there for a night because no one else had ever come close. None of them ever felt right because it wasn’t her.
Ellie had always been the only one I wanted.
Years of pent-up emotions were starting to wear me down. Every laugh, every glance, every quiet moment we shared—it was all getting harder to ignore. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could sit back and wait for the right moment.
Time was slipping through my fingers, and maybe—just maybe—this trip was the chance I needed to finally grow a pair and set something in motion.
Because the truth was, I was already in deep. And if she didn’t feel the same… if she looked at me and said no?
I wasn’t sure I could go back to pretending like she didn’t mean everything.
I stripped down and stepped into the shower.
The water poured over me, cold, which shocked my nervous system. Yet, my mind still wandered to her.
I imagined her here with me. Not just in thought, but in body. Close. Naked. Pressed up against me, her breath mingling with mine in the rising steam. Her skin slick with water, her curves fitting against me like they were made to.
This space, this shower, had become something of a sanctuary—and a torment. It was the one place I could let go, let myself feel everything I tried so damn hard to keep buried. Every fantasy of her took root here, deeper and dirtier each time I stepped beneath the spray.
I tilted my head back, water rushing over my shoulders and through the messy curls at the back of my neck. And I pictured her—hands on me, lips parting when I touched her just right, the sound of her breath hitching when I dragged my fingers down her spine.
My favorite fantasy? Her on her knees for me. Needy. Desperate. Eyes full of hunger as she looked up at me, mouth open, taking me deep. I imagined the feel of her, the heat, the rhythm. The way I’d cup her face and praise her—tell her what a good girl she was, how perfect she took my cock.
My hand wrapped around my shaft, slow and certain. I let the thought of her guide me, focusing on how she’d sound, how she’d taste, how she’d fall apart for me. My grip tightened, strokes growing faster, needier. My hips bucked into my own palm, but it wasn’t my hand anymore. It was hers.
I chased the high she gave me without even being here. And when it hit, I came with her name on my lips, biting back the groan that rose from deep in my chest. I spilled into my hand, bracing against the tile as the water rinsed it away.
I stayed like that for a long minute, catching my breath. Frustration simmered beneath the satisfaction. These moments were becoming more frequent. More intense.
She was close enough to touch, close enough to make me ache. Probably naked. I was trying to be respectful. I was trying to be good.
But maybe Mac was right.
Maybe it was time I stopped wondering and finally found out if she felt even a fraction of what I did.
Because if she did?
God help us both.