25. Ellie
ELLIE
“All right, I need a breather,” I panted, hands braced on my knees as I tried to catch my breath.
We’d danced through the entire set, and though there was one more to go, I was seriously questioning if I had the stamina to survive it. My legs ached, sweat clung to the back of my neck, and my cheeks actually hurt from smiling.
Somehow, I’d gotten the hang of line dancing. Maybe I’d been a little dramatic back in high school when I swore I’d never do it again, because right now? I was having fun.
Logan was a big part of that.
His easy laughter, his confident steps, and the way he never once let me falter without a hand, a word, or a glance kept me both grounded and giddy all at once.
We made our way off the dance floor, and to my relief, the same two stools we’d sat in earlier were still free. Terry and Janet—our neighboring couple—remained in their seats, looking just as amused and buzzed as before.
With a groan, I dropped onto my stool, then dramatically flopped over the bar top, resting my cheek on my crossed arms.
A warm hand touched my back.
“Told you you’d get it.” Logan’s voice was thick with pride.
I turned my head just enough to peer at him from the corner of my eye and found him smiling down at me.
“You can do anything you set your mind to, Ace.” Logan’s hand ran down my back before he straightened up and signaled the bartender for another round.
He was so calm, so effortless, and somehow, always saying just the right thing.
“You two definitely aren’t from around here,” Terry commented, his gruff voice cutting through the moment as he leaned back against the bar beside me.
I sat up slowly, brushing my hair out of my face. “What gave it away?”
Terry smirked. “You don’t sound like us,” he said. “And trust me, locals don’t get that excited over her line dancing or this bar.”
I laughed. “Fair point. I’m Ellie,” I added, reaching out a hand. He shook it warmly.
“You already know I’m Terry, thanks to my loudmouth wife.” He leaned back just enough to reveal her face, her eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering. “And this is Janet,” he said fondly.
She gave a little wave, a tipsy smile tugging at her lips. “I’m having the best time,” she sighed, her elbow propped on the bar as she swayed gently to the music.
The bartender returned, sliding two more drinks in front of us. I tapped Logan’s arm.
“This is Logan,” I said, tilting my head toward him.
Logan gave a polite nod and small wave.
“Where are Ellie and Logan from?” Janet asked, blinking slowly. “And what brings you to our corner of the world?”
I looked at Logan, letting him take the lead. He set his drink down, resting one forearm on the bar as he turned slightly toward them.
“We’re from western Texas. A little town called Faircloud,” he replied.
Terry squinted, thinking, then shook his head. “Nope. Never heard of it.”
That was pretty typical. Very few people had heard of Faircloud.
One stoplight. A population small enough that we all knew each other by name.
“We’re here because…” Logan spoke.
I looked at him and instantly saw the panic flash behind his eyes. He didn’t know how to explain the real reason we were here without opening a can of emotional worms.
I reached out and gently tapped his forearm, flashing him a cool, easy smile.
“You see,” I began, turning to Terry and Janet, “Logan here is in the market for his next sugar baby, and I’m his handler.”
Logan nearly choked on his drink, sputtering with surprise.
He looked at me like I’d grown another head, but he said nothing. If he outed the story as fake now, we’d be caught in a lie. And if there’s one thing small-town folks don’t like, it’s being lied to. We knew that all too well.
Terry’s eyes went wide. Janet blinked.
Then, after a beat, Terry chuckled and held out his hand to Logan for a high-five.
Logan exhaled as he slapped his palm against Terry’s, giving in to the moment with a shake of his head.
“Oh dear,” Janet said with a laugh, touching her chest. “Then I’m assuming this old town isn’t your final destination.”
A heavy hand landed on my thigh under the bar.
Logan’s fingers curled gently, giving it a squeeze—his silent signal to stop before I dug us any deeper.
But I ignored him.
“Yeah, poor Logie hasn’t had the best run of it,” I continued, biting back a grin. “So here we are, road-tripping our way to the beach, hoping to find him someone he can spoil.”
Terry lit up like he’d found the juiciest gossip of the week.
Janet leaned closer, sipping her drink slowly, trying to process every word like it was a plot twist in a soap opera.
To my surprise, Logan leaned into it.
He made up names for ex-sugar babies. Invented an over-the-top job in real estate development.
Terry had a million questions. Logan answered each one with flair. I couldn’t believe it, he was enjoying this.
“Well,” Janet said, eyes glassy with warmth and whiskey, “any girl would be lucky to be your sugar baby, sweetheart.”
She reached over the bar and gave Logan’s hand a fond little squeeze.
I looked up at him, and he was already watching me—then he winked.
His smirk was lazy and crooked, and that damn wink?
It nearly stopped my heart.
I cleared my throat and shifted focus.
Don’t get swept up, Ellie. Ask questions. Stay grounded.
I turned the conversation back to Terry and Janet.
How long had they been together?
Twenty-five years.
Any kids?
Four boys.
Born and raised here?
Every day of their lives.
There was something grounding about asking strangers questions in a bar like this.
It helped drown out the way Logan was starting to make me feel.
“I’ll be right back,” Logan said, tapping my shoulder lightly. “Bathroom.”
I nodded as he walked away, watching the sway of his stride disappear through the back door.
The second he was out of sight, Janet leaned in, eyes darting toward the hallway to make sure he was really gone.
“I know I don’t know you two from Adam,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “but that man is not looking for a sugar baby.”
My breath caught.
Shit.
She saw through it.
“What—I…”
Terry leaned in, grinning like he was in on the biggest secret of the night.
“Darlin’,” he said, “he’s lookin’ for you.”
Janet nodded solemnly.
“You should’ve seen the way he watched you while you talked, like you roped the moon, the cattle, and his heart.”
I glanced toward the narrow hallway where the restrooms were tucked away, and I could practically hear the pounding of my heart.
If I was feeling it—this slow, aching pull toward Logan—and strangers like Janet and Terry were seeing it…
How long had I been missing it?
Granted, most of my dating life had been consumed by Buck. Then I ran, left everything behind for a year, and came back only to fall—far too quickly and thankfully briefly—into Miles’s arms.
I never gave myself the space to really see Logan Walker.
And now, there he was.
His broad frame appeared from the hallway, shoulders back and that casual, confident stride of his that could make any woman lose her mind.
Even under the dim lighting of a dive bar, he looked like a dream.
I wasn’t ready to confront Janet’s quiet revelation.
Not yet.
I couldn’t go there. I didn’t even know who I was anymore, much less what I truly wanted.
So instead, I steered the conversation back to safer waters—to easy laughs, light questions, and new stories.
When it was time to go, Terry and Janet insisted on exchanging numbers.
“Y’all ever find yourselves back around here, you better swing by the farm,” Terry had said.
Apparently, telling them about my connection to horses had earned us an open invitation.
Outside, the night air greeted us like an old friend.
Cool, quiet, still.
As soon as we stepped into the starlight, I leaned into Logan without thinking.
His arm slid around my shoulder like it belonged there, like it had always belonged there.
We walked side by side, our boots crunching over gravel, no words between us. The only sounds were the hum of insects and the faint chirp of crickets echoing against the vast stretch of sky above.
When we reached our room doors, we stopped.
Facing each other, just inches apart Logan stepped closer.
“Thank you for a great night,” I said softly.
He smiled. “Anytime, Ace.”
We didn’t move.
The space between us felt weighted, electric.
The moon cast a soft silver glow across his face, and I drank him in—those steady eyes, the curve of his mouth, the way he made me feel like I could breathe again.
I wanted to kiss him.
God, I wanted to lean in, feel the brush of his lips, let myself fall.
But instead, I swallowed the ache, gave him a small smile, and turned.
I stepped inside my room, closing the door gently behind me.
The click of the lock echoed louder than I expected.
Then, I slid down the back of the door until I hit the floor, knees pulled to my chest.
My breath hitched and tears slipped out before I realized.
They slid down my cheeks and soaked into the old carpet beneath me, and I didn’t even try to stop them.
I didn’t know why I was crying. Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was the build-up of heartache, the fear of being loved, the relief of being seen.
But for once, I let it happen.
I let myself feel because maybe that’s what healing actually is. Perhaps it is letting the dam break and allowing the flood to carry you somewhere new.