My legs wobble as I turn back toward the cabin. One step. Then another. All I need to do is make it inside, pack my things, and—
A twig snaps beneath my sneaker, the sound like a gunshot in the midnight stillness.
“Maisie?” Logan’s voice reaches me from behind.
Can this night get any worse? My spine stiffens automatically as I pivot back. Victoria turns, too, a sanctimonious smile plastered on her face like she’d hoped I would follow them into the woods. She doesn’t even pretend to be embarrassed about being caught. Instead, she makes a point of extending her touch,sliding her hand down the entire length of Logan’s arm in one deliberate stroke.
“Think about what I said,” she murmurs, loud enough for me to hear this time, then glides past me on her way back to the cabin.
She doesn’t even glance in my direction as she passes, treating me like I’m invisible. The dismissal stings.
The moment she vanishes beyond the trees, Logan steps forward, his face contoured in panic. “Maisie, it’s not what you—”
I raise my palm like a crossing guard halting traffic. “Oh, isn’t it?” Steel enters my voice as my arms fold protectively across my chest. My fingers dig into my biceps. “Go on, then. Prove me wrong.”
“We were talking about work, that’s all.” His voice rushes out, tripping over itself.
“And her hand on your arm?” A mirthless laugh escapes me as I tilt my head. “Was that part of the business meeting too? Did she need to establish proper skin contact for optimal synergy?”
Logan drags his hands down his face and seemingly exhales in frustration. “She caught me off guard. I didn’t even realize—”
“Logan, come on.” My voice shatters on his name, and I swipe furiously at the stupid, persistent tear that escapes down my cheek. “Do you even hear yourself? Because it sounds like every other excuse you’ve given me.”
“I swear—”
“No.” The word explodes from me, sharpened by all the hurt I’ve been trying to contain. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some fan you’re placating. Isawthe way she touched you. And you just stood there, accepting it.“ Each word rises in volume, carrying farther into the night. “Just admit it. You’re still with her—or you’re about to be for the sake of your collaboration or whatever it is you’re planning behind my back.”
He advances a few steps as I retreat, matching his forward for my backward. “Maisie, please. You’ve got this all wrong. If you just let me explain—”
“Don’t.” My hands extend outward like I’m summoning an invisible barrier. “Don’t come any closer.”
His feet root to the forest floor, face stricken in the moonlight. He looks genuinely hurt, and for one faltering second, I wonder if I’m reading this wrong.
But I’ve been wrong before. So very wrong. And the price I paid ripped me to shreds.
“This was a mistake.” The truth I’ve been fighting escapes in a quiver. “We should’ve stuck to the contract we wrote. Rule one. That’s on me.”
I whirl around and walk away. How could I be so foolish? Logan may say all the right things, may look at me like I’m something precious, but when Victoria enters the scene, the story reverts to its original casting.
Mom warned me from the start this wouldn’t end well. I should have listened.
The cabin comes into view, its windows glowing warm against the night. I dash upstairs to my room and slam the door, my back collapsing against it. My knees buckle as I slide down to the floor, hugging them close to my chest.
What fantasy world was I living in? A first-grade teacher with song lyrics scribbled in notebooks and strawberry-shaped pancake skills isn’t exactly headline material for someone like Logan Humphries. He lives in spotlights and penthouse suites, in recording studios and VIP sections. Victoria belongs there with him. I don’t.
As much as I hate admitting it, she was right all along—I’m a chapter, not the story. And some chapters are short.
Sleep evades me all night, my body rolling restlessly as my thoughts give no respite. When dawn’s first light filters throughthe curtains, I surrender to wakefulness. My bare feet connect with the cool wooden floor as I pad to the window, desperate for fresh air.
Outside, morning fog drifts over the lake’s surface like a ghostly dancer while the sun crests the tree line, painting the sky with watercolor washes of orange and rose gold. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. Peaceful.
Everything my heart currently is not.
The knot in my stomach tightens like a fist. I hate this limbo—this not-knowing whether his heart lies with me or follows the well-worn path back to her. I need a firm answer from him. I can’t live in maybes and what-ifs.
With sudden resolve, I pull on jeans and a soft sweater, twist my messy hair into a low bun, and inhale deeply. I can do this. I can have one honest conversation without breaking apart.
My fingers reach for the doorknob just as a sharp knock sounds from the other side.
