Anger spikes in my throat like a tidal wave; it consumes everything too quickly for me to mitigate what’s about to happen.
“Fuck you,” I spit back right before I hang up. A jolt goes through my entire body, and before I can hold back, I jump to my feet and throw the phone on my bed. It falls between my pillows.
The panic bursts and explodes into a million tiny shards across my body. But this time, I’m completely alone.
And it’s my fault.
CHAPTER19
The familiar crunching of gravel rouses me from my work. I lift my eyes from my laptop screen to see Logan walking up the path to my cabin, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes meet mine through my open window, uncertainty swirling in the golden flecks of his hazel eyes before he gives me a tentative smile.
One week. It’s been one week.
My heart leaps, but I force my expression to remain impassive. I’ve got my camera on, after all. I turn my attention back to my computer, trying to focus on the video call with Leslie. She’s yet again gushing about the latest batch of pages I delivered for the retreat website.
“This part here really speaks to the tranquil vibe we’re going for,” she says, her voice alive with joy. “And the writing has so much more heart now. I can tell you really took the time to understand our vision.”
I’m only half-listening, hyperaware of Logan lingering in my peripheral vision. After a week of radio silence, what does he expect? That I’d welcome him back with open arms? That I’d drop a client call and leave everything behind to greet him? My fingers curl into fists as I struggle to rein in the storm brewing inside me.
Because I’m pissed.
I took the opportunity for this week to just focus on my work. I buried my feelings deep down to give myself a chance to finish this project with whatever steam I had left. I haven’t texted my dad, or Sophie. I haven’t even tried to contact Logan, no matter how much I desperately missed him with every fiber of my being. And I set my anger aside for both of them.
After all, I’m here to write. So that’s what I’ve done all week.
I meet Logan’s gaze again. He finally realizes that I’m on a call, so he stays outside instead of trying to come into the cabin. He gets settled on the picnic table, and I wonder how I’m going to bring my attention back to this call.
“—the next project. Would you like to talk about that?”
“Huh?”Shit.I must have missed something. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I lost you for a second.” Ah, the joys of online communication.
Leslie doesn’t skip a beat, nor does she seem to suspect I’ve just lied to her face. “The team really loves your work, Avery, so if you have some time, I would love to discuss another potential project we have in mind for you.”
Oh, wow. Normally, I’d jump on this opportunity and say yes without hesitation. But I know there’s no point in doing that right now. I’m not going to be remotely useful unless this freshly aroused anger dissipates.
So I lie again: “I’ve actually got another call booked in a few minutes, so I can’t really stay. But I would love to discuss this further. Let’s book a time for it; how about tomorrow at 1 p.m.?” I’m surprised at how professional and courteous I’m able to be.
We wrap up shortly after booking a follow-up call for tomorrow, and I close my laptop, eyes downcast. I take a deep breath in and exhale through my mouth before getting up to meet Logan outside.
I try not to storm out of the cabin, but it’s hard to keep my cool. I remind myself of Sophie’s voice, telling me to chill, but that only serves to remind me of how we left things the last time I called her.
Yeah, I’m on my own for this one.
I burst out of the cabin, breathless. Logan is sitting on the weathered picnic table, elbows on his knees, staring absently at the gravel. He looks up at my sudden exit, regret etched on his face. I open my mouth, ready to unleash a tirade of hurt and anger.
But then he’s crossing the distance between us in quick strides. Strong arms envelop me before I can react, pressing me against his chest. Logan’s familiar scent surrounds me, and despite myself, the fight drains out of my body.
It feels like I’m home.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my hair.
For a brief moment, I allow myself to melt into his embrace. I missed this so much. His scent, the warmth of his arms, just having him nearby. But the questions—and the anger—still plague my mind, threatening to spill. I pull back to meet his eyes.
“You can’t just disappear for an entire week, ignore my texts and calls, and expect me not to be upset,” I spit out, unable to keep the accusatory note from my voice.
He runs a hand through his dark curls. “You’re right. That was shitty of me.” His eyes are pleading for me to understand. “I swear, it’s not what it looks like. I wasn’t trying to ignore you or make you feel bad.”
My expression must betray my skepticism because he hastily adds, “I’ll explain everything, I promise. But I need to drive over to Sydney to pick up a custom set of bar glasses first. We’re short-staffed right now, and after disappearing like I did, I kinda don’t have a choice but to help out.”
