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Tears prick behind my eyes, and I blink them away before they can fall.

G clears her throat and looks down at her mug. “Okay. Then I want to tell you something too.”

I wait, unsure what she’s about to say.

“You already know Logan and I dated in high school.”

“I thought that was the whole story.”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “Not even close. We stayed together for about two years after graduation. Five years altogether.”

“Wow.” I shift toward her. “What happened?”

“Normal young-and-stupid shit, I suppose. We wanted different things.” G picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I wanted to get out of Hartwell for a while. Travel. See something other than the same people and the same streets every day. Logan was already hell-bent on taking over the marina.”

“So, you broke up?”

“Eventually, we just…drifted apart.” She shakes her head, a sad smile pulling at her mouth. “I was still hopelessly in love with him, though.”

I stay quiet. Something tells me that’s what she needs from me right now.

“I came back the year I turned twenty-two, and he had a new girlfriend,” G continues. “I don’t know why it pissed me off so much. We’d been apart for more than two years, and I’d had my fair share of fun while I was gone.”

She gives me a wink, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I found out later that he’d gone traveling with Vicki while I was away.” G rolls her eyes.

“She sounds like a bitch.”

G points at me. “See? You get it.”

I reach across the space between us and take her hand, silently letting her know I’ll always be on her side.

“Then, the year I turned twenty-four, my parents died in a boating accident,” she says quietly. “Logan came to the funeral. Everyone did.”

“I’m so sorry, G.”

“Afterward, everyone eventually went home.” Her eyes drift toward the yard. “Except Logan.”

My fingers tighten around hers. “He stayed?”

“All night.”

There’s something in her voice that makes me hesitate before asking, “Did anything happen?”

G is silent for a moment.

“Not the way everyone assumes,” she finally says. “He just…didn’t leave me alone.”

“And after that?”

“Morning came.” She shrugs, but the movement is too deliberate to be casual. “He went back to his life, and I pretended the night hadn’t meant anything.”

It clearly did.

But I don’t push.

She’s given me part of her story, and I’ve given her part of mine.