“It was…” He sighs. “Really good. Better than I could have hoped for.”
“Oh.” Slipping off my other glove, I grab my phone and press it to my ear after taking it off speakerphone, hoping I’ll be able to get more clues if I listen that way. “That’s good, right?”
“Obviously.”
I want to ask him right out why he’s not here, but I worry that will make him hang up. He’s always evasive, but this feels bigger. “Everything okay, Logan?”
“Brilliant.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.” I wince as those words slip out of my mouth.
Thankfully, he chuckles as more seagulls cry in the background. “Course you don’t. It’s a lie.”
Swearing under my breath, I stare at the half-made meals sitting on the counter. I’m supposed to deliver these before noon because Liam and his wife will be away from home the rest of the day, and after that I need to get started on the team meals. I’m just getting my feet under me and feeling like I can do True Fuel long term. Like I’m on the verge of having everything I’ve ever wanted.
But as I stand in Logan’s kitchen, listening to him breathe on the other end of the line, it feels like something is squeezing myheart. Whatever he’s going through, he’s going through it alone. I know all too well how painful that loneliness can be. How can I focus on myself when he’s hurting? What good is a thriving business when someone else is suffering?
I can’t let him deal with this on his own.
With a groan, I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder and start stuffing everything back into the fridge. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be lucky. “Where are you, Logan? Which beach?”
“You have work to do, Sav.”
“Yeah, I do, so tell me quickly so I don’t have to check every freaking beach in Los Angeles.”
He grumbles something under his breath, followed by my name on a sigh. “Sav.”
“Logan.”
“I’m fine. Don’t turn this into—”
“You didn’t go to Venice or Santa Monica,” I say, more to myself than to him. I shove the last package of chicken in the fridge and grab my keys. “Too many people. Manhattan?”
“Savannah Blair, don’t even think about—”
I take the stairs rather than the elevator, wishing I’d spent more time at the beach since moving to California so I’d be more familiar with the different places he might have gone. It’s not like I’ve had all that much free time. “You wouldn’t go all the way up to somewhere in Malibu, would you?”
He growls, then exhales. “Dockweiler.”
Pulling up the beach in my maps app, I can’t hold back a grimace when I see how long it will take me to get there. But it’s probably the first beach he came to. It’s not like he lives right onthe coast. Then my stomach flips when I realize how close the beach is to LAX.
He wasn’t going to the airport, was he?
“Wait there. Okay, Logan? I’m coming.”
“Yeah,” he sighs and hangs up.
It’s a testament to how much he’s hurting that he stopped fighting me.
When I get to the beach and see Logan sitting in the sand just beyond the parking lot, a wave of relief sparks tears in my eyes. He’s exactly where he said he was; I half expected him to lie so I wouldn’t find him.
“Logan?” I call as I struggle toward him, sand filling my shoes. A descending plane flies overhead, and I wince at the noise. How long has he been here?
He doesn’t move until I collapse to my knees in front of him, and even then he only shifts his head to look at me. With his face void of emotion and dark circles under his eyes, he looks like he’s having an awful morning. “You shouldn’t have come,” he says, softer than I expect.
“I’m worried about you.”
“No need to fret, love.”
