“I thinkthatphoto is a warning.”
“Because…” He opens his eyes, assessing.
“I went to see my dad to ask about the trade situation. Dalton already told me to stay out of team business.”
“When did he tell you that?”
“A while ago.”
“Hmm,” he says, and I can see the analysis happening behind his hazel eyes. “The day you told me you needed some time alone.”
“It’s a warning, Logan. You don’t need to go see him. Especially not when you’re mad. It’s too easy for things to get out of control. Dalton is good at pushing people’s buttons.”
“I won’t go tonight.” There’s still so much tension in him. The rage is thinly masked. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going. I’m not sitting back and letting him do this to you. I won’t.”
I kiss him, not because I want him to take Dalton to task, but because the urge to tell him I love him is so strong. The words are in my throat. The thought of saying it scares me because I don’t know what we do with that. Holding the truth back feels cruel, but saying it also feels mean. There’s nowhere for that love to go. Even if we could line up the marriage and baby timeline, his life—what he wants more than anything—might have to exist off this island, and everything I hold dear ishere.
After talking to my dad, after chatting with Logan the other night, I’m realizing that maybe we collided in this love to learn how to care for someone else the right way.
For me, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him. It’s complete and unwavering. The way I’d want to feel about whoever I intended to spend forever with. That’s also really scary. Loving someone the way I love him means I won’t necessarily make choices that are in my best interests. I’d put him first, and I’m only just figuring out who I am, whatIwant.
The joy and the sorrow of this big love is that I’ll never let myself get lost in my relationship with him. I won’t. I can’t.
Our end is set.
The only thing I’ll lose is him.
Even thinking that makes a denial leap in my head, my heart.
The good that’s come out of this relationship will have to form the runaway ramp—like those used on highways with dangerously steep hills—constructed to save me when I realize I never applied the brakes, and I’m headed full speed intoemotional disaster. Every pebble of care and concern he’s given me will have to be enough to slow the inevitable crash.
Our five-year—even our ten-year—plans look nothing alike. We’re on separate routes to happiness, even if they’re running parallel right now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Logan
Should I be lying to Sawyer?
No.
Nois the right answer. It has to count for something that Iknowthat, right?
Yet here I am outside the Advisory Council building with no clear plan, and despite waiting almost a week, my rage over the leaked photo is barely contained. Dalton’s smug belief that he holds all the power makes me furious. Someone who’d use that kind of material to emotionally manipulate an ex-girlfriend isn’t squeaky clean. There are skeletons in Dalton Worthington’s closet, of that, I’m sure.
When I get to Dalton’s office, I breeze past his secretary, who rises to his feet full of bluster and protest, while I open the inner door without pausing.
“Logan,” Dalton says, a knowing smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Do we have an appointment?”
“We can have this conversation now in private, or I can make it very public,” I say.
“You can shut the door,” Dalton says.
I push the thick wood closed in his secretary’s furious face, and Dalton and I stare at each other in a nonverbal standoff.
“We both know going public with anything isn’t in a certain person’s best interests. I’m guessing she told you about the things we’ve done together? Sawyer has an exhibitionist kink. But I doubt she’d want all of Bellerive to realize that.”
“We both know Sawyer has zero influence on the direction of my team, so your threats to release that footage are more mind games than anything else.”
