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???

The next evening, with Logan back in Florida and the condo back in its usual pace, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night.

About the way his hand had felt on my waist.

About the way he’d pulled away, like my lips were poisonous.

My phone buzzed while I was working at the dining room table next to Harper as she finished her homework.

My pulse spiked.

Logan:About the other night…

Three dots appeared, then disappeared.

I tried to wait out his response but the anxiety bubbled low in my belly so I responded.

Me:You don’t have to explain.

I meant it. Or at least, I wanted to mean it. I didn’t want him to feel cornered or obligated or pushed into something he wasn’t ready for. I’d spent too many years being on the other end, and I refused to be another reason someone shut down.

The dots appeared again.

Logan:I kind of want to.

I leaned back in my chair, heart pounding out of my chest.

Me:Okay. I’m listening.

The response didn’t come right away.

Minutes passed. I glanced at my phone, thumb hovering above the screen, each ellipsis stretching my anticipation like a tightrope. I told myself not to spiral – that he was probably working, or thinking, or just being Logan. Still, my chest stayed tight, like I was braced for impact.

Finally:

Logan:I’m not good at

wanting things halfway.

Logan:And I’m scared that if I let

myself want you the way I do… I

won’t know how to stop.

There it was. Raw. Unpolished. Exactly what I’d suspected and somehow more than I’d expected.

I closed my eyes for a moment, grounding myself, then typed.

Me:Wanting someone isn’t

the same as losing control.

Logan:It is for me.

Logan:I haven’t been with

anyone since losing Elena.