“You’re not sad or closeted,either. You just took a while to figure yourself out. That’s allowed. Onlyfucking me if no one ever knows? That’s… not fair. Not that I have a lot ofroom to talk. I’m going straight back in the closet now, I guess.”
“I know better than to outyou in front of your parents,” he said after a moment. “If you’re worried.”
My stomach clenched at the thought.“They’ddisown me,” I said. It wasn’t even something Iworriedabout anymore.It was something I knew.
Right now, I needed them. Ihad no one else left to turn to.
“This is temporary,” Iadded, but it didn’t sound convincing even to my own ears.
There was no plan to get outof here. Starting over washard, and I had no idea how I was going tomake that happen.
Maybe I’d just… fadeaway on the ranch, alone, until my parents died or retired to Florida or something.
It didn’t even feel likeamaybeanymore. It feltlike my only option. Like it was what was going to happen to me whether I likedit or not.
“Of course,” Logan said, asif he believed every word. If he did, he had more faith in me than I did. “I expecta postcard from wherever you end up next.”
“You have a standinginvitation to come visit.”
Even here, I wanted toadd, but I knew Logan wasn’t going to make this trip for me. He lived elevenhours away without accounting for traffic or freak thunderstorms.
“Might take you up on that.”Logan smiled across the table. “Eat your eggs before they go cold.”
I wasn’t hungry. My stomachwas so tied up in knots that I was afraid to put anything in it.
But Logan wanted to see meeat, so I’deat. The least I could do for him was promise him I’d be okay.
It didn’t matter that itwas a lie.
TWENTY
LOGAN
“Pull over here,” Ashleynodded to a narrow dirt shoulder by the road with deep tracks worn into it. He’dbeen tense since we left the diner, and I wasn’t going to say no. Fresh airwould do him good.
At least, I hoped it would.
“Come on,” he said, climbingout of the car with a hop and closing the door behind him.
I couldn’t say no, couldI? Ashley needed me, and while I figured we’d left his stalker in SanFrancisco, it was still my job to keep him safe.
Besides, stretching my legssounded like agreatidea right about now.
I followed him toward thetree line. Ashley knew where he was going, ducking under a low branch that must’ve been theresince he was a kid, weaving between trees until he found a path. Not amadepath, but thekind worn in by hundreds of pairs of boots walking it over time.
We couldn’t hear the roadanymore. Songbirds and the buzz of insects replaced the sound of cars andpeople as we wound deeper, shielded from the rest of the world.
The path ended in a clearingovershadowed by a tall, broad-trunked oak that Ashley stood at the base of andlooked up into.
I headed over, stoppingbeside him to see what he was looking at.
Oh.
That wasadorable.
“A tree house,” I saidaloud. “Yours?”
“Not mine, exactly,” Ashleysaid. “This is public land, but ours starts a few hundred yards that way.” Hewaved his arm in the general direction, I assumed, of the Cooper ranch. “It was…ours. All of ours. Webuilt it the summer I turned nine. All the kids from around the town. I wasinstrumental in the construction process.”
