We spend the drive mostly in silence, apart from Logan occasionally pointing out an old mining town or a particularly famous canyon on our route. For someone who hasn’t lived here for years, he sure does know a lot about this place. And it’s a gorgeous drive so I’m easily entertained. Towering pine trees and rivers carved into canyons. I’ve never seen such beauty.

By the time we pull into the parking lot of a small general store, I’m almost wishing the drive were longer. I like having Logan as my tour guide, and I’m already weirdly excited for the drive back.

Inside, we each grab a shopping basket, and I make my way through the aisles, grabbing all the things I forgot to pack. Heavier wool socks, some feminine products, and a bag of watermelon-flavored gummies to snack on in the car.

Logan follows close behind me, grabbing a bottle of mouthwash and a six-pack of beer, two things that directly cancel each other out, in my opinion. When we pass a rack of leather boots, he slows to a halt, running his fingers along the shearling fleece lining.

“What’s your size?”

“Seven and a half, why?”

He scans the labels, then pulls out a box, tucking it beneath his arm. “Because I’m buying you these.”

My mouth forms a tight frown. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.” He glances pointedly at my high-heeled black leather ankle boots, which are sporting a few more scuffs than they had when my plane first touched down. “Total honesty? Your boots suck. You’re going to trip and fall if you’re still wearing those when the snow really starts. You need these.”

“Then I’ll buy them myself.”

“No way. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. This is the least I can do after you came all this way to help me.”

A hollow feeling forms in my chest as my gaze drops to the black-and-white tile floor. “I feel like helping you is the last thing I’ve done.”

Although I’m avoiding his gaze, I can hear the confusion in Logan’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

A frustrated sigh pushes past my lips. “First, I can’t light my own fire. Then I can’t drive the truck. Then Graham uses me as a talking point in your argument last night . . .”

“That argument had nothing to do with you,” Logan says quickly, his voice stern and steady. “Graham was just trying to get under my skin.”

“The point is, all I’m doing is causing you one headache after another. I’m supposed to be the one helping you, but you’ve just had to rescue me again and again. What’s the point in even staying?”