27. Ellie
ELLIE
Isat cross-legged in the front seat of Logan’s truck, shoving handfuls of sour gummies into my mouth as he drove.
I’d offered to take the wheel for a few hours, but all I got in return was a sideways glance, a smirk, and him saying, “I’d trust you with my life, but I can’t quite trust you with my truck. ”
So, here I was, relegated to passenger princess duties and self-appointed navigation expert as we hit the stops I’d picked out on our way to the beach.
Since leaving the motel, we’d pulled over at every state welcome sign, taken blurry selfies next to a weather-worn statue of a historical figure I couldn’t name, and even stumbled into a hybrid convenience store/aquarium/bar that probably shouldn’t have passed any health inspections.
Still, it was exactly the kind of random adventure I needed.
Because my mind kept going back to sharing a bed with Logan last night.
His scent, his warmth, was grounding. It felt intimate but in a way that deepened the connection I knew Logan and I shared.
My body was telling me subconsciously that when I felt scared, Logan was where I needed to be.
That was a big, bright neon light telling me that maybe I’d been missing out on something between him and me.
Mostly, though, I was excited for the beach.
It had been too long since I felt warm sand under my feet or my hair tangling into crunchy waves from salty ocean air.
Last year, during my solo travels, most of the warmer months were spent landlocked, cutting through the middle of the country, zigzagging north and back down again.
I saw so much, met so many different people—it was transformative.
But this trip… This trip felt different.
Back then, I needed to be alone.
Now, I was grateful not to be.
It had only been two days since the night with Miles. Despite his attempts, I ignored every text he sent begging me to hear him out.
Two days, and it already felt like a lifetime ago.
Maybe it was the constant motion or maybe it was Logan—with his quiet steadiness and easy conversation—but everything since that night had been a soft distraction from the weight I’d been carrying.
I wasn’t naive enough to believe it wouldn’t all come crashing back, but for now, the peace was welcome.
I glanced out the window, the candy forgotten in my lap.
Last night, after we’d said goodnight, I sat on the floor of my motel room and cried.
Then I’d taken a second shower and cried again.
I hadn’t known what exactly I was grieving, but when the tears finally stopped, I felt lighter. Like a dam had broken and now something in me had room to breathe again.
“Are you excited to see your mom?” I asked, needing a break from my own thoughts.
Logan’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel. He didn’t answer right away, and when he finally did, his voice was soft, contemplative.
“For the most part,” he said. “It’s always good to catch up, but… I think I’ve just gotten used to them not being involved in my life. It’s part of how our relationship works now.”
I nodded, letting his words settle.
It was different for me.
Growing up, I told my mom everything.
But lately… I hadn’t told her much of anything.
Not about how I felt after Buck.
Not about the weight behind leaving.
Not about Miles.
Not about how lost I still felt, about how hard I was trying to feel whole again.
“Do you ever wish it was more?” I asked him after a beat.
I didn’t know much about Logan’s parents. Throughout our friendship, I met them a few times, exchanged some pleasantries, and with every interaction, they’d been kind. But I knew they didn’t have much of a part in his life even now.
He shrugged. “Maybe when I was a kid. Watching your family… it made me wish for more from mine. But now? I’m grown. I’ve got what I need.”
I finally turned to look at him. The sunlight cut across his face, outlining the sharp lines of his jaw and the subtle furrow in his brow. There was so much he wasn’t saying, but somehow, I still understood him completely.
“You’ll tell her when you’re ready,” he added, eyes back on the road.
He knew this was less about his relationship with his mom and more about mine. Hell, he spent practically his entire life growing used to the kind of relationship it was.
It was like he could hear the exact thoughts running through my head, that strange guilt I’d been carrying for keeping my mom in the dark, for shutting her out when all she’d ever done was try to be there for me.
“I just don’t know what to tell her,” I admitted.
Logan reached over, his hand brushing mine for just a second before returning to the wheel.
“Tell her everything,” he said. “Exactly how it is.”
“I feel bad for not keeping her in the loop. For keeping her in the dark about everything that was falling apart in my life.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t think she’d be understanding—my mom had always been the most empathetic person I knew.
It was the shame. The embarrassment of admitting to a woman who always seemed to have it all together that I was barely holding myself upright.
That I wasn’t anywhere close to being the woman she was.
I shifted slightly in my seat, wishing for his touch again.
I ached for the familiar safety I felt in his presence, ached for the way just one brush of his fingers could quiet the noise inside me.
Slowly, I rested my hand on the center console, pretending it was casual but secretly hoping he’d reach out, lace his fingers through mine, and remind me that I wasn’t alone.
I’d been blind. Naive, really. So caught up in my own chaos that I hadn’t seen the way Logan looked at me. The way he showed up. The way he stayed. Janet’s comment from last night still echoed in my mind, sticking to me like the humidity in the air.
Was it wrong to test that connection? To see if it could be something real, something worth holding on to?
But was this just me misreading someone again? For the third time in my life, and I wasn’t even thirty yet.
A thousand thoughts raced through my head, crashing into one another like waves.
Was what I felt real?
Was it Logan, or was it just the distance from Faircloud that made everything seem softer, easier?
And even if I was right… who was to say I could trust myself not to get hurt again?
Was I even ready to explore something like this?
God, who was I kidding? I was still spiraling.
“Sure,” Logan said gently, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to her about it now.”
Like I'd hoped, his hand reached out, arm brushing gently against mine as we shared the space across the center console, his voice anchoring me.
“Where would I even start?” I asked, my voice quiet.
“Start with why you ran.”
I let that settle, and I extended my pinky, wrapping it around his in a desperate reach for connection.
“I was going through it mentally, my world was pretty much ripped out from underneath me.”
“Never should you feel guilty for how you reacted in a situation you’ve never experienced before. We won’t know how we will handle something until it is staring us in the face. You needed space, so you took it. It’s never too late to circle back around and tell your mom everything.”
Finding out about Buck and what he’d been doing behind my back for so long had shattered something in me I didn’t even know could break. I was so young, so easily pulled in by his charm. He was handsome, witty, smooth-talking. I thought I was lucky to have him.
But hindsight was a cruel, revealing thing.
When I looked back now, I could see him clearly. And worse, I started to notice the ways Miles mirrored him.
Confident.
Pushy.
Cocky as hell.
It scared me how easily I had been drawn to that type of man again.
When Buck and I got together, we were both so inexperienced. When your first taste of intimacy, of love, is tangled in manipulation and control…it warps things. Leaves open wounds that never really scab over, not until you’re forced to face them head-on.
That’s what this trip was really about. Not just escape. Not just a distraction.
But healing.
All of this—the worry, the what-ifs, the heartache—could wait until we got home. Right now, I wanted to be fully present. To breathe in what was right in front of us. The beach. The sun shining in the sky. The salty breeze curling through the open windows and tangling in my hair.
“I say we skip the hotel for now,” I said, squeezing his pinky playfully as I leaned toward the dashboard. “Let’s head straight to the beach. Spend the day soaking up the sun and pretending life isn’t so complicated.”
The sun was already casting a warm, honeyed light, but it was early enough that the sand wouldn’t burn beneath our feet. We still had hours to chase waves and collect memories, and I was desperate to stretch every second of it. My heart needed the ocean and maybe, it needed him too.