We’re still friends.
I close my eyes to absorb the moment. But Logan’s hand doesn’t stay on my cheek for very long. He snaps out of whatever reverie we’ve been caught up in and pulls away. Still, his other hand remains on my arm.
“I’m sorry you still have to deal with those attacks,” he says, finally breaking the silence, and for the first time, I notice his voice is nothing like the high-pitched tone I once came to know asLogan.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Obviously, his voice changed. At thirteen, he was a late bloomer, so I don’t know why I expected him to sound the same seventeen years later.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. This is a regular occurrence for me post-panic attack. It’s like there’s a disconnect between my mouth and my brain—I can move my lips, and I can form the words in my brain, but the two won’t reconcile.
Logan knows what this is. So he nods silently and flashes a gentle smile. That’s when I notice his teeth. He must have gotten braces shortly after I moved because they’re now perfectly straight.
The smile does something to my insides. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt a twinge like this. And suddenly I’m giggling, the last of my tears falling away on my chin.
Logan laughs. Despite the change in his voice, his laugh sounds exactly the same, just deeper. It’s throaty in a way that feels so genuine and contagious. Hearing this makes me laugh even harder, and before I know it, I’m leaning against his chest, unable to contain my emotions again. But this time, I’m on the opposite end of the emotional spectrum.
His scent is both familiar and different. I recognize the smell of clean cotton and soap from when we hugged as kids, but there’s something new here as well. Something musky, comforting. And slightly salty, like the sea.
The warm tingle between my thighs wakes me out of my laughing fit, and I pull away as quickly as I leaned in. My laughter stops short, although I force an awkward smile to stay on my face to match his genuine grin.
“Sorry,” I say in a voice that’s shakier than I expected, although I’m relieved I can already speak. “And thank you.”
“No worries,” he says, his smile toning down a bit. “I couldn’t bring myself to hope it was really you when I saw your name pop up in our reservation system. You probably want to get settled in your room—I can give you some space.”
“Oh, right!” I exclaim, remembering the reason I’m here. I’ve rented a cabin. And Logan works here.Logan works here. Why does Logan work here?
“No rush,” he adds, seeing that I’m still not a hundred percent back to myself. “We can talk later. I definitely want to catch up, but for now …”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I slowly ease myself into a standing position, using the wall behind me as leverage.
“I’ll stay quiet for now.” I can’t believe he remembers everything. My panic attacks started during the last school year we spent together: seventh grade. I still remember the horrible numbness and shakiness I’d felt in my body when I’d told him we needed to move back to my home city of Montreal. All because of my dad’s job. And I remember how my heart melted for him when, despite his pain, he never wavered.
He was the one who gave me the idea to plan a seventh-grade graduation party to replace the eighth-grade one I’d never get. And he was there while I figured things out with how the panic attacks worked and how to best deal with them. Seventeen years later, he still recalls I’d rather remain quiet after an episode.
Most people would try to fill the awkward silence. But it only becomes awkward when someone feels that way. I’d rather just take the time to recuperate. And hanging out in silence with Logan was never an issue. We’d spent so much time together that silence was second nature after a while. And for us, it was comfortable.
But today feels different. As he silently guides me to my cabin, I can feel that ease erode. It’s been too long, with too many questions left unanswered. The silence weighs on my shoulders like a ton of bricks.
“I’ll give you your own set of keys later, but for now, I’ll unlock your door with my master key,” he says once we reach the cabin.
Right away, despite everything, it’s love at first sight with this place. The small red building is triangle-shaped with a small deck at the front overlooking the cliffs and the sea. As Logan fiddles with his keys, I can already see inside from the large window at the front—the triangle shape creates a high ceiling for the single room, giving it an air of effortless luxury.
I’ve even got a barbecue on the front deck, along with some plastic lawn chairs and a wooden picnic table.Fun.
Logan finally manages to unlock the door. He holds it open and steps aside, motioning for me to come inside. “All yours,” he says with a tight smile. Whatever ease we had back a few moments ago is now gone, and he knows it, too.
Despite that, I slide by him to enter my cabin. It’s clean, simple, and minimalistic, but lovely. To my left is a small kitchenette, complete with a stovetop and coffeemaker. The fridge is on the other side of the cabin to the right, and while it’s not full-size, it’s plenty big enough to allow me to stock up for a month.
The open space from the triangle ceiling makes the cabin feel airy and spacious. At the center of the single room sits a king bed that’s whispering my name. I see the door to what’s probably the bathroom to the left of the bed.
If I wasn’t so shaky from my recent panic attack, and nervous from an impromptu encounter with the man who used to be my favourite person in the entire world, I’d be damn pleased with all this.
“It’s perfect,” I manage to say as I turn to face Logan. He’s still holding the door, perhaps not quite sure what to do with himself.
“So …” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m gonna let you settle in. Take all the time you need. Then you can come get your car, and I’ll give you your actual set of keys.” His eyes dart away like he’s nervous. “And if you’re feeling up to it …”
Even though the sight of him fills me with wonder and dread all at once, I know what he wants to say—and I want the same thing he’s proposing. “Yes, Logan. I’d love to catch up.”
A smile appears on his face. His eyes light back up. This is the Logan I know.
