I curse under my breath as I click the match link before I can think better of it, and then I stare at the name I’ve never wanted to know because I figured he hadn’t wanted me from the start. At least Lola carried me to full term, so she must have wantedme a little. But him? If he was ever in the picture, he left before I was born.
I may have just found my dad. And I have no idea what to do about that.
Chapter 19
Savannah
Loganisn’tathisapartment this morning, which is weird for him. Especially lately. I’ve gotten used to having him around all the time, so his empty living room is jarring after I punch in his door code and walk inside. Almost creepy.
“Logan?” My voice practically echoes through the apartment, followed by stark silence.
There’s a chance he’s in the shower or something, and my heart rate spikes at the thought of him suddenly appearing in just a towel, but I tell my body to calm down as I slowly step deeper into the apartment.
“Logan?” I call again, setting my bag on the floor in the kitchen. I tiptoe down the hall to his bedroom and poke my head through the open door, but the room is empty. I peek into the bathroom next, frowning when I catch some lingering steam in the air. He was here.Recently. And he knew I would be showing up at eight because this is when I come every day.
So where did he go?
Did something happen at practice last night? He was so reluctant to go back, though he never told me why. I figured it had something to do with how his team might or might not welcome him back, even if he pretends not to care what they think of him.
As I’ve learned, Logan cares about a lot more than he says he does.
Grabbing my phone, I head back to the kitchen and type out a text.
Savannah:
How did practice go last night? I was hoping to hear all about it this morning.
I read through it without hitting send, wondering if it sounds too much like I’m prying. He’s open when it comes to his interest in me, but he’s still incredibly private with everything else. He might not want me to know about his practice if it went poorly.
What do I have to lose? Just this amazing kitchen and my cat’s favorite human.
Before I can think better of it, I send the text and start gathering what I need for today’s meals, telling myself not to check my phone until I’m done prepping. Do I listen? No. I keep my phone screen on, growing more agitated every minute my text goes unread.
“He has his own life,” I say out loud as I work. “He’s allowed to go places without telling you, and what happens during his practices is none of your business.”
Except, I’m worried about him. After so many days of having him around, his absence and silence feel worrisome. He’s softer than he lets people believe, and with the way he looked at me before he left my apartment yesterday, it was almost like he…
I groan. I need tofocus. My new client, one of Cole’s best friends, is famous enough that I have several of his albums on my favorites playlist. I nearly died when Cole told meLiam Connollywas interested in ordering meals from me. It was worse when I brought a meal to Liam’s house last night, completely starstruck, and he hired me after the first bite. But that means I can’t mess this up. I’m lucky that Cole contracted meals for the team for the rest of the season, even luckier than he gave me access to someone in his inner circle. I’m not about to rock the boat when it comes to this referral.
I’m clinging to this luck with everything I’ve got.
Unable to help myself, I glance at my phone, gasping when I see that my text has been marked as ‘read.’ I freeze and stare at the screen, waiting for it to show him typing.
It never does.
“Logan!” I growl out, clenching my hands into fists as my frustration rises. Yes, we’re only friends, but he has to know I care about him enough to worry. Right?
He’s obviously on his phone, so I strip off one of my gloves and hit the call button, tapping the speakerphone icon next. It rings over and over, and I hold my breath until finally the call connects.
Logan’s voice is hesitant, and there’s something off about it. “Er, hey, Sav. Did you get into the flat okay?”
“Where are you?” That question is blunt, but I’m too worried to be tactful.
“Out.”
A seagull screams in the distance, giving me a clue. But there are a million beaches in LA. He could be anywhere.
“How was practice?”
