The worst part isn’t even the dishonesty of it. It’s that it worked. Every touch was perfect not because he discovered me, but because he studied me until I fit the version he wanted to keep.
“Say something.” The words sound like they’re being scraped out of him. “Please.”
I force myself to meet his eyes. He looks wrecked—like confessing this cost him more than he’ll ever admit.
That’s when I realize: he’s waiting for me to hate him.
But I don’t hate him. I could never hate him.
“I’m not angry,” I say slowly, testing the words as they leave my mouth. “I’m just... processing.”
“You should be angry.”
“Maybe.” I move close enough to touch him, not quite making contact. “But you didn’t do it to hurt me.”
It’s the understatement of the century, given that what he did during thatexperimentwas the exact opposite of hurting me.
His jaw unclenches, and then he’s reaching for me and pulling me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I sink into his arms, letting him hold me.
The electricity humming through my veins quiets when his heartbeat registers against my cheek. It’s a deep, unhurried rhythm, like his body runs on a different clock than everyone else’s. The steadiness anchors me. Because I love him, and he loves me, and right now, that’s enough. It will always be enough.
After a while, I pull back slightly. “I need to ask you something else.”
“Anything.”
“What do I do about Evie?”
Logan’s face goes blank. “You need to be there for her.”
“That’s it? Just... be there for her while she’s falling apart looking for someone she’ll never find, when I know she’ll never find him?”
“You need to say as little as possible.” Each of his words lands flat and precise. “If she asks direct questions, deflect. The less you say, the less chance there is of contradicting yourself later.”
He’s right. I know he’s right.
That doesn’t stop the nausea from rolling through me.
“She’s my best friend.” Static crackles between my palms, and I press them flat against my thighs to smother it. “She trusted me. Now I’m supposed to watch her suffer while knowing what really happened last night?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “The alternative is telling her the truth, and if you do that, everything falls apart. The investigation. Our alibis.Us.”
“I know.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold. “I just hate lying to her.”
“I know you do.” His hand finds my cheek, tilting my face up to his. “But if Evie knew what really happened, she’d have tocarry our secrets, too. We can’t put her in that position. It would destroy her.”
It’s destroying me,I want to say.
The words press against the back of my teeth, hot and insistent, and for a second I’m terrified they’ll come out anyway. That I’ll look at him and shatter, right here in his room, and whatever’s left of our careful story will break with me.
I don’t want to shatter. We have enough messes on our hands already.
So, I change the subject.
“There’s one more thing.” I pull away from his touch, making my way to the window. The ocean is louder from this side of the room—waves hitting rock in a rhythm that sounds almost angry. “Constance pulled me aside for a conversation when we got back to the ballroom.”
Logan goes still. “What did she say?”
