“Do whatever you have to do to keep this town clean. I think he’s been beat up enough to pay for what he’s done, and I won’t press charges. I just want to go home.”

Her hand squeezes mine in her lap, like she can feel the way my heart drops when she says home. A reminder that Wickett is her vacation destination, not her permanent residence.

23

Sierra

My parents are waiting in the car while I talk to Logan on the bench outside the station. They’re waiting to take me home, to Newport, but my feet don’t seem to want to move from the pavement.

Logan has shut himself off. I can feel it in the way he’s avoiding my eyes. His jaw is clenched, and he has a tightness to his normally soft lips.

I touch his hand.

“Thank you,” I mutter to get his attention. Just a couple hours ago, we were lip-locked and hungry for each other, but now…where do we stand?

“For what?” He glances up at me, and I can see the pain behind his eyes.

“For saving my life, Logan. For changing my life. For…everything.” I don’t exactly want to be thanking him for deflowering me. It’s not like it was a favor he did for me, but I feel desperate to bring up that moment for us. The first time we were together, the moment when we were both so lost and miserable that we buried ourselves in each other, finding more light and love there than we could have ever imagined.

And now, I’m not ready to let that go. If I asked to stay, would he want me? His harsh words about being a spring break fling were forced, I knew that, but what if there was some truth there?

“I think I should be thanking you,” he answers, turning his body toward me so that he’s hidden from my parents watching in the car. “I was at an all-time low when you arrived, Sierra. And if you hadn’t forced me to snap out of it, then I don’t know how much longer I would have had in the world.”

“Don’t say that,” I whisper as I lean closer.

We feel like magnets, like the closer we get, the more the attraction pulls us together. Suddenly, my arms wrap around his waist, and I bury my face into his neck. His arms envelop me so that all I can smell is his cologne and the scent of him. I will never leave this spot, I tell myself.

There is a jingling of keys behind me. When I pull my face out of Logan’s T-shirt, my cheeks wet with tears, I lock eyes with my dad who is standing there with a set of keys dangling from his fingers.

“What—” I ask.

“You’ve had a long day. Take the weekend to relax in the condo. Your mom and I will go back to Newport, but we expect you to answer any and all messages from us while you’re here.” He eyes Logan suspiciously.