No,knew. “Awesome. We can grab a drink and a bite at the lodge. They have a patio. But like I said, no rush. I know how drained you must feel.”
Although he’s right about how exhausted I am, I also can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. Even after all these years, he’s still so kind and caring with me. As if we were never apart. If it wasn’t for his awkward stance and his grown-up frame, I wouldn’t be able to tell any time has passed at all.
I force a stilted smile. Even though I’m excited to catch up, I can barely muster the energy to show it. “Okay. Sounds good.”
“Great.” He pauses, then gives me a quick nod. “All right. Take care.” Then, within a moment, the door closes, and he’s gone.
And I’m left to myself, with nothing holding me back from collapsing on the bed.
CHAPTER4
It takes me a solid hour to decompress from the shock of seeing Logan here and the subsequent panic attack. If I’ve got one thing going for me right now, it’s the fact that I’m in one of the best possible places to decompress.
The sun is setting behind my cabin, painting the sky shades of purple and orange. At the front of the cabin, unobstructed by anything, is the sea. Its waves are angry and crashing against the rocky shore, situated below a short cliff that ends a mere twenty metres from my door. Already, the fog is starting to cloud the air.
The sound of waves has always been soothing to me. Although I never lived near the sea, it reminds me of my time in Red Lake, the place I lived for six years where Logan and I met. I can’t count the number of times I let the faraway sound of the quiet shore lull me to sleep.
During plenty of these occasions, Logan had been there, his quiet, sleepy breaths adding to the lullaby of the waves. And now, knowing Logan is nearby, it’s impossible not to get thrown back to those moments in time.
One of my favourites happened over the summer between fifth and sixth grade when we went camping at White Lake, another Ontario lake named after a colour for some godforsaken reason. My parents liked to invite Logan along since his mom usually had to work through the summer. And while it was always fun, there was one day that stood above the rest for its combined perfection: beautiful weather, hot dogs on the fire pit for lunch, hours spent diving for mussels and sitting still in the shallow water waiting for minnows to tickle our toes, freshly caught walleye for dinner, and s’mores on the bonfire to wrap up the day. All of it with Logan by my side.
That day wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, though. Later, when my parents probably thought we were asleep, they started arguing in hushed tones while in their own tents.
“I’m not gonna let you just miss another one of Avery’s Christmas plays,” Mom said. Dad argued that every year was the same spiel and that it wasn’t a big deal.
But we weren’t asleep. We were both reading the firstPercy Jacksonbook with flashlights underneath our sleeping bags so my parents wouldn’t see through the tent’s flimsy material. My heart sank once I understood what Mom meant, that Dad would yet again be gone on a months-long work trip instead of attending the Christmas play at school. And worse still, he didn’t seem to care.
I pretended not to hear the conversation. But Logan heard it just as well as I did, and as much as I tried to hide it, he noticed my slouched shoulders and resigned demeanour, even in the darkness of our tent.
Instead of acting like nothing was wrong, he took my hand, quietly unzipping the tent’s door so my parents wouldn’t hear, and pulled me along to distract me with a midnight swim. The sound of his laughter and the gleam of his smile in the moonlight feels as vivid as if it had happened just yesterday.
The thought of him gnaws at my heart. And it’s not just because of my conflicting feelings about the last conversation I had with him. Shouldn’t he be in San Fransisco? Unless he’s on vacation as well …
No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would he be manning the front desk if he was taking a vacation? No, he is obviously working here for some strange reason. Even when we were kids, it was clear to everyone that Logan was a genius with computers. And even if I’d never admit this out loud—not even to Sophie—I periodically stalked him on Instagram to see if his life seemed to be going okay, once every few years. Maybe more. But who’s counting?
Not me.
I’d been so stoked for him when I’d looked him up after graduating college. It so happened that he’d graduated too—from the University of Toronto, a long way from home for him. And he’d announced his move to San Francisco soon after. Obviously, some awesome tech startup wanted him for his software engineering genius.
Last time I checked, nearly a year ago, he was still in San Francisco, being his nerdy self and creating big things out of just ones and zeroes.
But seeing him here, now, has me worried. Not that there’s anything wrong with working in hospitality; I respect the hell out of service workers. But the Logan I once knew despised spending more time than necessary working with most people. And there’s no way his big brain could be getting the fulfillment it needs at a job like this, where the hardest technical challenge is probably a slight bug in the booking system.
I realize I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve barely exchanged a full sentence with Logan. There’s no way to know what’s actually going on with him. Maybe he got married to a woman whose family owns this place, and he helps out occasionally while working remotely.
The idea of Logan being married sends my stomach reeling. Not that I have any claim to him. Not after the way I ran away.
I try to shake off the feeling but can’t get my brain to shut up. Before I spiral into another panic attack, I decide to find a distraction.
And who better to distract me right now than Sophie?
I make my way outside and sit on the comfy chair placed on my porch. Before I call her without warning, I send her a text, in case Heather is sleeping. I’ve heard her rant about people who call or visit without warning several times now.
Her response comes barely a minute later:
Yeah call me now what’s up?!?
Relief floods through me, and I immediately dial her number. When she picks up, I already feel a bit better—the power of friendship. “You won’t believe who’s working here,” I say, slightly short of breath.
