Hope surged through Logan like sunlight piercing storm clouds, washing away the despair that had clung to him for so long. It was as if someone had stepped inside his body, clearing out the heaviness and planting something fragile but unmistakable in its place: the thought that he could find Adrian. That he could see him again, hold him again, explain everything. For the first time in years, he could see the horizon, clear and vast, where the ocean met the sky in perfect stillness.
It wasn’t just the sadness that had lifted; it was the storm. The chaos that had churned inside him for so long had subsided, leaving a quiet calm in its wake. But calm wasn’t enough. Logan knew the mistakes he’d made ran deeper than marrying Sandy or hurting Zack. To make things right, he had to go back to the beginning, to the man he had left behind, to the love he had denied.
As he drove, Logan dialed Ada Mae. He could hear the relief in her voice as she answered, likely bracing herself for another day of cancellations and meetings. Before she could begin her usual litany of reminders, he interrupted her. “Ada Mae, I need the best private investigator you can find. Schedule a meeting. Cancel everything else for today, push it all to tomorrow.”
Ada Mae paused, stunned, before murmuring her agreement. Logan ended the call without another word. His focus was singular now.
When he reached the house, he walked straight to the master bedroom. The air felt different,emptier, without Sandy’s presence. He stepped into the closet, staring at the half-empty racks where her clothes had been, scattered remnants of her hurried departure still lying on the floor. The sight made his chest tighten, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had more pressing things to confront.
From the depths of the closet, he pulled out his wetsuit. It hung on a forgotten hanger, dusty but waiting. He ran his fingers over the elastic fabric, the texture sparking a flood of memories: the rush of the waves, the salty spray of the ocean, the thrill of being alive. He had bought this wetsuit after moving into the house, convincing himself he’d make time to surf again. He never had.
The faint scent of the neoprene tickled his nose, and a shudder ran through his body. He carried the wetsuit back to the bedroom, laying it out on the bed. Slowly, Logan began to undress, each piece of clothing falling to the floor as he prepared for something that felt monumental. As he stared at the wetsuit, he felt an unfamiliar sense of rightness, a pull toward something that had been missing for too long.
His silver eyes drifted upward to the wall, landing on the photos hanging there. Wedding photos. He’d seen them a thousand times but never reallylookedat them. Now, in the aftermath of everything, they struck him with a painful clarity. He saw himself in those photos, his forced smile, the dark circles under his eyes, the sadness he hadn’t been able to hide. Even then, he had known. Known he was lying to Sandy, to himself. Known that he was fulfilling a role, doing what his father had raised him to do, chasing approval he didn’t even want.
Logan inhaled deeply, grounding himself. He didn’t have his lifesaver anymore, but he had something else: a chance. A chance to find Adrian, to make things right. When he zipped up the wetsuit, it felt like shedding his old skin and stepping into something truer. He walked to the storage room where his surfboard sat, unused and pristine. Dust clung to its edges, a stark reminder of the years he had abandoned this part of himself.He picked it up, its familiar weight settling into his arms, and carried it downstairs.
Stepping outside, Logan locked the door behind him, the snap of the lock echoing in the stillness. The cold November air enveloped him like a sharp blade, its icy fingers slicing through his skin. Yet, he embraced it; the chill was a much-needed jolt, a fierce reminder that he was still alive, still capable of feeling.
Everything around him was falling apart; his marriage unraveling, his life in tatters, the intricate web of lies he had woven for self-preservation now collapsing. But amid the turmoil, a clarity emerged. For the first time in years, Logan understood his call to action. He was going to surf; it was the solitary refuge that had always resonated with his soul, the only passion that had ever made him feel complete.
The board was smooth against his palm as he walked to his car, the wetsuit tight and grounding against his skin. It had been two years since he had touched the waves, two years since he had been happy. But it was time. Time to return to the ocean, to the place where he belonged, to the place where he could think, where he couldbreathe.
The thought of the salty air filling his lungs, of the water pulling him under and closing around him, made anticipation bubble inside him. He needed to feel it again, to let the waves strip away everything else, to leave him bare and free. For the first time in what felt like forever, Logan wasn’t afraid of drowning.
He was ready to find the surface. To breathe. To live.
To let the streams of water carry him.
Chapter 10
Prelude to the Drownsong Apnea
November 9, 2018—Point Lookout, Queensland, Australia—Two Years Earlier
Logan’ssmilewaslikesunlight breaking through the waves, a reckless, radiant thing that brightened his whole face. He sat cross-legged on the floor, mesmerized by the way Adrian’s fingers danced over the guitar strings, plucking melodies like whispers from the sea. Every now and then, Adrian glanced up, catching Logan’s eyes with a mischievous grin, as if daring him to look away. But Logan couldn’t. His heart raced in the way it did when he caught the perfect wave—wild and unrestrained, thrumming in his chest—and though he was certain his cheeks were flushed, he didn’t care.
Adrian played like the smooth and rhythmic caress of the ocean’s tide, each note a wave in a mesmerizing song dedicated to Logan. This melody was their sacred ritual, the deep exhale that followed their sun-drenched days spent riding the wild waves, their laughter mingling with the crash of the surf. From the golden blush of dawn until the sky transformed into a tapestry of twilight hues, they surfed, laughed, and tumbled together in perfect harmony, much like the ocean tenderly kissing the shore. Now, as twilight descended like a soft blanket, Adrian sat on the floor, guitarcradled in his arms, pulling familiar chords from its heart. Each strum resonated with longing, while Logan listened, his mind a swirling mist of cottony thoughts, and his heart a tumultuous sea full of unspoken emotions, crashing and swirling with the rhythm of the music.
“How?” Logan finally demanded, his voice shattering the enchanting silence that followed the final chord, as he set his phone aside after endlessly scrolling through his playlist of beloved songs. “How do you know all of these songs?”
Adrian’s cheeks flushed a vibrant red, reminiscent of the horizon at sunset, as his gaze danced shyly down to the strings of his guitar.
“Adrian?” Logan urged, leaning forward with a curiosity that sparkled in his eyes. “What is that look?”
“Nothing,” Adrian deflected, not meeting Logan’s gaze.
“Adrian!” Logan pressed.
“Nothing!” Adrian insisted.
“Adrian!” Logan said again. “Spill it, you’re all red!”
That only caused the blush on Adrian’s cheeks to grow deeper.
Adrian exhaled softly, the sound delicate and sweet. “You know how you adore having your music on all the time? Like, it’s always there?”
Logan nodded, a frown forming on his brow, confusion mingling with intrigue. “Yeah?”
