I lift my hand, catching the attention of a server in crisp white linen who’s making his rounds along the beach. “Can you just keep these coming?” I ask, pointing at our drinks.
He smiles warmly. “Absolutely, sir. I’ll have another round brought over shortly.”
The sun dips lower, streaking the sky with shades of magenta and deep orange. The ocean breeze carries the scent of salt and hibiscus. Music drifts from somewhere nearby—soft island rhythms mixed with the gentle crash of waves.
I close my eyes and try to let it all sink in.
But even here, thousands of miles away, I can’t stop thinking about her.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
TESSA
It’s been three days since Logan came into the shop. Three very long days. I know because every single time that bell chimes—whether I’m working the counter or restocking supplies in the back—I immediately check to see if it’s him.
It’s made me realize how much I look forward to his visits, just a normal interaction with a kind person. For those brief moments every day, I don’t feel like myself. I feel like someone who’s free. I feel happy and hopeful. Logan makes me feel beautiful and interesting and desired—three things that are usually very foreign to me.
Because the thing is, while Preston may tell me I’m beautiful and that he desires me, they’re just words. Empty, hollow words that mean nothing. Because in the next breath, he hurts me.
I’m not someone he cherishes or even loves. My presence gives him some sick, twisted high. I’m not even sure what it is or why he does the things he does. I just know it makes him feel powerful. Invincible, even.
He’s broken me so much that I don’t ever feel like I can leave, and he knows it. He knows there’s nothing he could do to makeme walk away because I truly believe he’s crazy enough to hurt me more if I try.
This friendship with Logan isn’t leading toward anything substantial, and it’s also very clear that I’m going to have to shut it down pretty quickly. The fact that Logan and Preston haven’t crossed paths yet is a miracle in itself, but I’ve really enjoyed those few minutes of normalcy every day. They’ve made me happier.
But just like that, he’s gone. Three days and no sign of him.
If it were during the season, I’d think maybe he was away for a game, but he told me he’s off for the summer—lifting weights and working out locally. He doesn’t owe me anything. He definitely doesn’t owe me an explanation for where he’s been.
I’m terrified that throwing away his phone number a few days ago is what’s keeping him away. Maybe he’s done trying. And, if so, that’s good. It should be good. This can’t go anywhere.
Still, I can’t help that I miss him every day.
The realization sits heavy in my chest. I miss him. I miss the way he leans against the counter and asks his questions. I miss his teasing smile when I say something that amuses him. I miss the way he looks at me like I’m someone worth knowing.
I miss feeling alive.
Chalk it up to a moment of desperation, but after I get home when my shift ends, I do some digging.
Preston texted that he’ll be home late, so I have all night to stalk the Crane hockey team.
First, I google their roster. If any social media stalking is to take place, names are essential.
I find Logan’s Instagram account, but he hasn’t posted any stories, and the last picture he shared was the night they won the championship—him and his teammates hoisting the Stanley Cup, faces lit with pure joy.
One by one, I go through the names on the roster and look up everyone’s accounts. I get the impression that the team is pretty close, so surely if he’s with them, someone will post something.
A slight pang of guilt hits me. It feels shady, invasive even, but at the same time, I just need to know where he is. Every part of me knows I shouldn’t be doing this. Preston would be furious if he ever found out. Living the life that I do—constantly monitored, constantly controlled—it feels hypocritical to track someone’s location like this.
But I don’t know. I’m so used to having my daily dose of happiness, and not having it for three days has left me feeling more hollow than ever.
I’m starting to give up hope when one Cranes player after the next produces nothing Logan-related. Finally, I happen upon Miles Keller’s Instagram page, and my breath catches.
There’s a picture of Logan and two other guys, all shirtless, grinning at the camera. Turquoise water stretches endlessly behind them. White sand. Palm trees swaying in the breeze. They’re holding up tropical drinks with vibrant straws, the caption reading:Fiji with the boys. #OffSeason #Paradise
I blow out a breath in relief.
