Fourteen magical, whirlwind days.

My heart swells as each one of them plays through my memory like a highlight reel. From the first time I stepped into that house, there was something about him that I was instantly attracted to. And then that night Jillian sent him to build a fire in my cabin, that’s when I felt the first spark.

But this feeling in my chest now is much larger than that. It’s a roaring wildfire that torched any chance I had at being professional. That was made quite clear last night . . . and again this morning.

Heat floods my system at the memory of his strong arms around me, his warm lips at my neck. Last night, I felt like I was living for the first time, not just existing. Maybe that’s what a life with Logan would be like. A life worth living instead of merely going through the motions.

An ache builds deep inside me as the rumbling stops and a weightless feeling builds inside me. Takeoff. I’m officially no longer on Colorado soil. Time to leave it all behind me.

Once we reach cruising altitude, the tears subside, leaving me completely exhausted. At least it means I can sleep through this flight.

• • •

I hardly remember making the decision to sleep, but in what feels like two blinks and a yawn, the rumbling touchdown of the plane in Boston wakes me from my dream about—you guessed it—Logan. You can take the girl out of Lost Haven, but I guess you can’t stop the memories from following her home.

Once we’ve deplaned, it’s only a ten-minute cab ride back to my Southie apartment, where everything is exactly as I left it.

The coffee mug in the sink and the hamper of half-folded laundry remind me of what I thought this trip would be. A quick turnaround, no more than a day or two. Get in, persuade the client to work with me, and get out. I should have been back before the produce in my fridge went bad. It’s almost a funny thought now.

Exhausted, I let my duffel drop to the hardwood with a thud that echoes through the empty apartment, reminding me that, for the first time in weeks, I am really, truly alone.

With a sigh, I set aside my laptop bag, flip on the lights, and sink into the cushions of my couch, flipping on the TV to have some background noise.

The chatter of some sitcom family instantly calms me and simultaneously revs up my imagination. I wonder what the Tates are up to tonight. Maybe Austen built a bonfire and they’re cozied up around it, drinking home-brewed beer and swapping stories about growing up.