“Since a year ago, when I rescued him,” he explained, his voice full of pride.
“Oh, that’s very sweet, Logan,” my mother said as she put the leftover pie into the fridge.
“Hook is, like, the coolest dog I’ve ever met,” Adam interjected from where he stood next to Rachel.
Hook.That was an odd name. “I’ll be right back,” Logan said before walking toward the formal living room to make his phone call.
As I watched him leave, I let my mind wander. I had no doubts that we’d just shared another unspoken moment, an old and familiar spark that, until last night, I assumed was something I’d possibly fabricated. But now, if Logan’s words last night were true, that spark was something that webothfelt.
Another thought prickled my mind—hearing that Logan had a dog was a stark reminder that there was so much about his current life that I didn’t know about. Adam had known, which was proof that it wasn’t something Logan had kept private from the family.
It was such a small thing for my mind to be this stuck on, but it still somehow felt monumental. I wanted to reconnect with Logan, to rebuild our friendship and get back to a place where I was more involved in his life. But . . . What if we were meant for more? I couldn’t help thinking that maybe we actuallydidhave a chance at this back then, and in my chaos I’d ripped that away from us, too. Was it all too late?
ChapterEleven
The storm wasin the peak of its fury, dumping snow in turbulent gusts all around the house. The walls whined against the high winds that raged against everything in its path, causing creaks and thumps from all directions. Everyone had gone up to their respective bedrooms for the night a few hours ago, drunk and merry and full of the incredible food we’d continued to graze on all night.
Despite the late night hour and the darkness that covered the house like a warm blanket, I couldn’t seem to get my brain to quiet. I felt restless, incapable of keeping myself still. Since arriving in Breckenridge yesterday afternoon, it had felt like I’d been thrown right back into Logan’s magnetic orbit—I was struggling with the influx of old emotions and feelings that it entailed, like reopened wounds that were never left alone long enough in the first place to fully heal.
As I sat in the dark kitchen on the island bench, sipping on a glass of red wine, my mind whirled with the flashes of replayed scenes from the last couple of days. Logan’s wickedly engulfing smirk during the bocce ball game. His eagerness to take responsibility during my fumbled apology. The way I caught his eyes on me today, feelingseenby him again. The feel of his skin against me as his hand brushed mine at the kitchen sink.
I was admittedly in a dangerous headspace that resembled the turmoil of a younger Amelia. I wasn’t even sure why I allowed myself to be surprised by these feelings. This was the way it was between us, and it had been for as long as I could remember. I would forever be ensnared by Logan’s smile, forever enslaved to his eyes of honey, like a gnat trapped within the sticky, sweet nectar.
Sometime tomorrow, Adam would drive us back to the city where we’d resume our normal lives. Logan would no doubt slip back into the version of himself that pretended this thing between us didn’t exist, and I’d slip back into nagging self-doubt and desperation for more of him. I’d already felt the scarred edges of my heart begin to flare in anticipation of the let down, knowing that it was all inevitable.
His words from last night continued to replay in my mind as I took another large gulp of wine. I needed to get ahead of the disappointment. I wasn’t that young, naive girl anymore. Knowing the quiet rejection was coming should count for something, right? It was a cycle that I was all-too familiar with.
I felt something drip on my arm, and when I looked down I realized that I was crying. Hot tears slid down my face as my head tilted, and more tears fell into my lap.
Get a grip, Amelia.
I picked the wine glass up off the counter and downed the rest of the cabernet before I stood, grabbed my coat from the hook on the wall near the back door and opened the door to slip outside.
Within seconds, the freezing cold air numbed my face. My hair whipped around and thrashed at me, but I welcomed the external chaos as a distraction from the chaos simultaneously occurring within my heart. I had hoped the raging snow storm would help to numb me enough that I could get some sleep, but the wild beauty of it so accurately mirrored the way that I was feeling that it became even harder to escape.
The truth of it all felt like a ticking time bomb. I was in love with Logan, and if I was being honest with myself, I could admit that I’d been in love with him for a very long time.
I’d spent so much time and effort attempting to shove that love down. Over the years, he’d made it clear that even if he shared my feelings, it wasn’t enough for him to pursue it. And rightfully so—Logan wasfamily, and I could never, ever allow my feelings for him to jeopardize his place here with us. It was a dangerous line to cross and I fully respected his hesitation, if my suspicions were right and that was what it had been about. He didn’t haveanyone else apart from us.
Or maybe he did. It had been years since I was close to him. Perhaps there was a girl at home that was important to him that I simply didn’t know about. He never shared the details of his dating life with me, but I’d figured that was out of respect. Or maybe pity. Either way, he would have thought he was doing the right thing by keeping me out of the loop. God knew he didn’t owe me an explanation. Besides a few stolen glances and our hands brushing against each other, it wasn’t like he’d led me on.
I felt my mind get stuck there. Because as much as I tried to convince myself that he didn’t contribute to the way he made me feel, my heart flared up in response as if to scream at me:YES, AMELIA—YES HE DOES!
If anyone was selfish or destructive, Amelia, I assure you that it was me.
My god, what did that actually mean? Therein lied the worst part of this whole love-me, love-me-not catastrophe forever brewing within my heart. The not knowing. The hidden meanings. The answers that weren’t ever quite there. The obscurity of trying to see the truth so delicately hidden in the shadows of the night.
I felt more tears slide down my cheeks as I shook my head. My hands were frozen and I could no longer feel my fingers. This was ridiculous—I was standing outside in the middle of a blizzard having a complete breakdown over a man’s potential (or lack of) feelings for me. A breakdown that I’d had before, for the same damn man. So many times.
I took a deep, cleansing breath, knowing that I needed to get myself together. Tomorrow, we’d head back to the city and I could focus my energy on finding a new apartment. I could throw myself back into work and my clients, and do what I’d learned how to do best.
Forget Logan Davis.
I turned on my heels back toward the house and almost jumped out of my now frozen skin when I saw Logan standing at the door, staring at me. I must not have heard him come outside through the whipping of the wind. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants and didn’t have a coat on. He didn’t even have shoes on.
I saw that his hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he looked at me so intently, so earnestly, that I felt my mouth fall open in response. I paused to wait for whatever it was that he’d come out here to say because it looked like it was going to burst out of him.
We stood there like that, staring at each other across the back patio, for what felt like forever before he finally made a move, taking a hesitant step my way. And then he took another one. Our eyes remained locked on each other as he continued to move his feet to where I stood.
