“God, I should’ve just said something,” I mutter.
June tilts her head. “About that man?”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Of course it’s about him,” I admit.
“Well, you don’t have to go into specifics,” she says, wiping her hands on a towel, “those are usually the ones that get us thinking like that.”
I glance over at my bag, at the edge of my journal sticking out.
I pull it out and flip open.
I see what I wrote on the first page, right when I got to Riverbend:
A life that doesn’t fall apart because of a man.
I stare at it, and it makes me wonder.
Am I protecting myself? Or just making sure I don’t have to feel anything real?
Because Logan…goodness.
I close my eyes for a second, and it all hits at once. A corny montage of him with the kids. That stupid grin.
The way he showed up late that night and threw me over his shoulder and carried me up to the bedroom…
But mostly, I remember the way he looked at me: like I was something worth choosing. I could have sworn we were more than a rebound. I guess I’ll never know.
I swallow, my chest tightening.
“That man…” I murmur, more to myself than anything.
June watches me carefully now, like she knows the pain I’m in.
I thumb through my journal, and pull out the folded piece of paper.
It’s the love letter.
Evan’s handwriting is still creased from the last time I unfolded it. It’s the one he gave back to me, that I never had the heart to burn.
“What’s that?” June asks.
“Old love letter…from my ex. Not Logan.”
“Okay,” June says quietly. “That’s not just a casual situation. What are you going to do?”
I let out a shaky breath.
“I don’t know.”
A long pause settles between us.
Then June leans against the counter and crosses her arms.
“I had one that got away, you know,” she says.
I glance up, surprised. “Really?”
She nods. “I was thirty-four. He was good-looking. Too good-looking.”
