Prologue
Logan’ssoulhadstayedbehind on that crumpled, sunburnt beach in Australia, tethered to the one man he ever truly loved. Logan had left, but it didn’t. It clung to Adrian like seaweed in a tide pool, refusing to follow Logan’s body across continents, refusing to let him leave Adrian entirely.
So, Logan had moved on. Or at least he told himself he had. He slipped into beds warmed by others, yet the chill within his soul remained unshaken. He brushed past lives that seemed flawless on paper, but beneath the surface, he’s been drowning ever since. Drowning in silence, drowning in absence, drowning in a grief he couldn’t name, even though Adrian’s name had been written in bold on every scattered piece of his broken, suffocating soul.
Logan had tried to reach for the surface, gasping for air, clawing through, but nothing came. He told himself he was fine because he was alive, he was breathing, wasn’t he? He had a career. He got married. He was the head of an entire industry. On paper, he was alive.
Yet, inside, he was drowning, suffocating, each breath splintered, hollow, wrong. It hadn’t made sense. Nothing had. Not then. Not now.
There was that penumbral hovering over his life; he lingered half in the world, half in the ashen corridors of memory, where fragments glimmered like broken halos. In his mind they turned, slow and inexorable, a ring ofheaven burning above him, while all around, the infernal flames rose to claim what little of him remained.
Logan’s wife had begged for a child, and at night he had found himself seeking the fleeting warmth of Zack’s arms, searching for something, anything, to quiet the ache that hollowed out his chest.
But he hadn’t really been there.
He hadn’t really been anywhere.
Not with her. Not with Zack.
His heart had still been lost on that Australian shore, wandering the drift, caught in the undertow, standing guard over a long-lost love that had never been meant to be abandoned.
And no matter how far he ran, or how many years unspooled behind him, he couldn’t shake it.
Logan had asked himself, over and over: How could he have loved someone so completely, so deeply, in just a handful of months? How had Adrian, with his crooked smile and whisky-eyes, anchored him so profoundly that he hadn’t been able to move on, even years and lifetimes later? Why Adrian? Why not Zack? Why not anyone else? What had made him different, special, irreplaceable? What had it been in Adrian’s soul that had called to his like a lighthouse in a storm?
Or had it been his soul that had called to Adrian, summoned him from the bottom of the ocean to save him, to breathe life back into him when he’d forgotten how? Maybe it had been the bond forged in the presence of something greater than both of them—the waves, the salt, the rhythm of the sea. Maybe nature herself had given him a second chance, whispering under the crashing tide, promising him something eternal.
Or maybe it had been simpler than that. Maybe it had just been that Adrian was Adrian. And Logan had never been meant to leave. Because in every breath Logan had taken, in every dream he had woken from gasping, in every moment he had felt the emptiness press against his ribs, the truth had remained: Adrian hadn’t just been someone Logan had loved. He had been the ocean itself. And no matter where Logan had gone, no matter how far, he had never been able to escape the pull of the tide, and the streams of water were coming to claim him back home.
Chapter 11
Ghosts of the Ocean
The sun, the sand, and the flowing streams of water remembered. The relentless current pulling Logan back could no longer be tamed, prompting him to gather what remained of his crumbled heart, his shattered bones, and his soulless existence as he sought to rediscover the breath in his lungs, the wind in his hair, and the whisky hue ofhiseyes.
November 16, 2020—Seattle, Washington—Two Years Later
Logan’sfingerstappedarestless rhythm on the staircase railing, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. He stared out the window, watching the world outside move at its usual pace, a cruel contrast to the turmoil raging inside him.
“Mr. Vaughn,” the voice on the other end greeted, calm and professional. Logan wasn’t surprised that the investigator recognized his number. He’d called too often these past few days for his number to be unknown to the man; he was probably saved in his contact list under an absurd name.
“Well?” Logan’s voice was clipped, his patience razor-thin.
“Not yet,” Mr. Boyed replied, his tone measured. “Look, Mr. Vaughn, we’ve only been on this case for three days. I assure you, our team is among the best, and—”
“No, you listen to me, Mr. Boyed,” Logan interrupted, his voice hard, unsettled. “You have two more days to find him.”
“Mr. Vaughn, we are exhausting every possible resource to locate the person you’re looking for. There’s no need to call twice a day or make threats.”
“No threats,” Logan snapped. “Just informing you. I pay you enough to expect results, yet you haven’t found him. Two days, Mr. Boyed. If you fail, my money and I will take my business elsewhere.” Without waiting for a response, Logan ended the call.
Shoving the phone into his pocket, Logan hurried back to his room. It had been three days since Sandy had moved out, and three days since his meeting with Mr. Boyed, the head of one of the most reputable private investigation firms in the area. Three days since he’d hired them to track down Adrian.
His chest tightened as he threw clothes into a suitcase, the empty house echoing with every movement. There wasn’t much to pack. This house, a gilded cage bought by his father, had never felt like his. And now, with Sandy gone, it was easier to abandon it altogether. Logan had already met with a real estate agent and secured an apartment, a far cry from the opulence his family insisted on. He didn’t care. He wanted small, simple, and his.
His father was away, sparing Logan the onslaught of questions that would inevitably come. His mother had already called, her voice dripping with concern. His sisters, too, had tried to pry, but Logan brushed them alloff with vague reassurances. He couldn’t explain now, not when his mind was consumed with one thing: finding Adrian.
By the next morning, he was back at his desk when the phone rang.
