I imitate him and finish off my own drink, then groan as I sink against the table. “Ugh. I need to get to bed so I can get up tomorrow and start this stupid website copy project.”
“Wow, looks like you love your job,” he remarks sarcastically.
“No, I do.” I sit up straight again, wary not to look like the lazy, burnt-out writer I tend to feel like. “It’s just …”
You’re a fraud. You’re not even worth a tenth of what they paid you. No one loves you.
“I need to write super emotional, transformational descriptions of this retreat so people can’t help but book their stay right after reading the website,” I say instead. “But it’s kind of hard to write that way when all I feel is …”
Discarded like an old garbage bag. Like time is zooming by way too fast, and I’m shriveling up, and no man will ever want me.
“Hmm,” Logan says, squinting his eyes in thought. “Less than inspired?”
That’s certainly one way to put it. “Yeah, something like that.” I gaze back towards the sea, which has calmed down by now. The moonlight dances across the calm surface.
Part of me wants to tell him how I really feel. But I have no right, not after how I treated him. I don’t deserve to trauma dump all over him hours after we reconnected.
“I’ve got an idea then,” he says with a grin, his hand resting on my arm.
“Oh?” I can’t decide whether to focus on his burning gaze or his warm touch on my arm. He’s looking at me as if he cannot see anything else.
It’s dizzying.
And confusing. He’s acting as if nothing ever happened between us that night.
“How about you let me take you on a tour of some inspiring activities around the coast?” he suggests, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I mean, you can spend the month in your cabin like a hermit and just stare at the ocean. Not a bad choice, in all honesty. But since we’re both here, and since I’ve been here for a while now, I don’t see why you wouldn’t take advantage of it.”
His genuine desire to support my creative process warms my heart. But beneath the surface, I’m flooded with doubt.
It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with him. Right now, I’m resisting the urge to meet his thoughtful gesture with a close embrace. I’d want nothing more than to feel his arms around me again, especially now that his forearms are tantalizing me.
But things can’t be like they were before. I already know that just by how taut the air feels when I’m near him. And the last thing I want is for me to succumb to those feelings and use him like a rebound.
Use him like I did that night.
Plus, I am not ready for the inevitable moment he dumps my ass when he realizes how much of a mess I still am.
With a shaky breath, I force a smile and shake my head. “Logan, that sounds lovely, but I don’t want to be a burden or take up too much of your time.”
“Are you kidding?” he replies, his eyes widening in surprise. “Avery … I’d love to do this with you. How am I not going to jump at the chance to get to know my best friend again?”
But the more he insists, the stronger my resolve becomes. My hands clench into fists, hidden beneath the table, as I fight the urge to give in to his offer.
“Really, Logan,” I say softly, avoiding his gaze. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ll figure things out on my own. I don’t want to impose.”
He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to uncover the truth behind my words. “I already told you that’s not an issue. So what’s really going on?”
I take in all of him—the curve of his smile, the way his hair catches the moonlight. It’s difficult to describe how it feels to be around him—me, someone who’s a sucker for words, can’t find the words to pin him down.
But the closest I can find ishome.
A cool breeze brushes against my skin, carrying the scent of salt and sea. I shiver involuntarily, but Logan’s hand on my arm warms me instantly. “You can tell me to fuck off if you want to.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips.
My heart skips a beat, and I’m suddenly very aware of his fingers gently gripping my arm, sending sparks racing through my veins.
Even after the way I abruptly shut things down between us, does he really still want to spend time with me?
Maybe he does. Maybe, after all this time, he’s forgiven me, even though I never asked for it. That would be such a Logan thing to do.
