27
ELLIE
Isat cross-legged in the front seat of Logan’s truck, shoving handfuls of sour gummies into my mouth as he drove. I’d offered to take the wheel for a few hours, but all I got in return was a sideways glance, a smirk, and him saying, “I’d trust you with my life, but I can’t quite trust you with my truck.”
So, here I was, relegated to passenger princess duties and self-appointed navigation expert as we hit the stops I’d picked out on our way to the beach.
Since leaving the motel, we’d pulled over at every state welcome sign, taken blurry selfies next to a weather-worn statue of a historical figure I couldn’t name, and even stumbled into a hybrid convenience store/aquarium/bar that probably shouldn’t have passed any health inspections.
Still, it was exactly the kind of random adventure I needed.
Because my mind kept going back to sharing a bed with Logan last night.
His scent, his warmth, was grounding. It felt intimate but in a way that deepened the connection I knew Logan and I shared.
My body was telling me subconsciously that when I felt scared, Logan was where I needed to be.
That was a big, bright neon light telling me that maybe I’d been missing out on something between him and me.
Mostly, though, I was excited for the beach. It had been too long since I felt warm sand under my feet or my hair tangling into crunchy waves from salty ocean air. Last year, during my solo travels, most of the warmer months were spent landlocked, cutting through the middle of the country, zigzagging north and back down again. I saw so much, met so many different people—it was transformative.
But this trip… This trip felt different.
Back then, I needed to be alone.
Now, I was grateful not to be.
It had only been two days since the night with Miles. Despite his attempts, I ignored every text he sent begging me to hear him out.
Two days, and it already felt like a lifetime ago.
Maybe it was the constant motion or maybe it was Logan—with his quiet steadiness and easy conversation—but everything since that night had been a soft distraction from the weight I’d been carrying. I wasn’t naive enough to believe it wouldn’t all come crashing back, but for now, the peace was welcome.
I glanced out the window, the candy forgotten in my lap.
Last night, after we’d said goodnight, I sat on the floor of my motel room and cried.
Then I’d taken a second shower and cried again.
I hadn’t known what exactly I was grieving, but when the tears finally stopped, I felt lighter. Like a dam had broken and now something in me had room to breathe again.
“Are you excited to see your mom?” I asked, needing a break from my own thoughts.
Logan’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel. He didn’t answer right away, and when he finally did, his voice was soft, contemplative.
“For the most part,” he said. “It’s always good to catch up, but… I think I’ve just gotten used to them not being involved in my life. It’s part of how our relationship works now.”
I nodded, letting his words settle.
It was different for me.
Growing up, I told my momeverything.
But lately… I hadn’t told her much of anything.
Not about how I felt after Buck.
Not about the weight behind leaving.
