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I press my spine against the warm metal of the apartment door, wishing I could melt into it until I disappear altogether.
“Christ, Penelope, you’re acting like I committed a crime here.” He backs up an inch, giving me space I didn’t ask for, but space he knows I need. “What are you running from?”
“I don’t know,” I bite back. “You, me, every-fucking-thing.”
“Hey, hey… Just breathe for a sec.” Inhaling and exhaling on his cue, I listen to the hypnotic tone of his voice, taking three huge lungfuls of air. “There you go, nice and easy.”
I’m shivering as my body filters through the panic and adrenaline, one particle at a time.
“You and that mouth have never had a problem being straight up with me. What’s going on?”
“I… I can’t love you.”
I focus on the tiny dirt pebbles between our feet. The moment I see the rejection on his face, I’ll cave, and I have to hold my ground on this. I have to.
“Why not?” he asks.
I break so easily, dragging my stare up to his, and the porch light plays with the angles of his handsome face, dancing with the shadows in every dip, hollow, and curve.
I sputter at the hint of a smile on those full, tempting lips.
He’s not upset?
“Well, it’s a pretty long list of reasons, actually.” My shoulders are squared in my I-mean-business stance, but he only finds my posturing amusing.
After unlocking the bolt beside my head, he pushes the door open behind me. “I do love your lists.”
I stumble backward, putting heaping amounts of space between us as he helps himself inside.
“We’re never going to work, Logan.”
“Oh?” He drops the keys onto the counter before leaning a hip against the edge. “Well, do elaborate, sunshine. You’ve got me on pins and needles over here.”
“All right, smartass. Why don’t we start with the glaring fact that my dad is going to freak when he finds out about us? And yours? I don’t even want to know what will happen then.”
He’s already shaking his head before I finish. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
“How can you say that when you’re hiding me from him? You don’t want Silas to find out you’ve been with me because he hates me, and I-I don’t want him to hurt you.” I choke on the last bit, tamping down the protective rage that always threatens whenever I think about his scars.
“He doesn’t…” Logan sighs. “Those days are long gone, and it’s more complex than that, okay? I’ve got a plan. I just need you to trust me.”
God, how I want to. Twelve years of yearning and wondering, only to have him here, my everything, standing across this very room. And I’m too chicken shit to claim him.
“It’s not just that. It’s that you and I no longer want the same things. You prefer to be behind a desk and work a nine-to-five, and I prefer literally anything else. I’m nowhere near office material, and we both know it.”
He crosses his arms, unconvinced. “I would never force you to work with me. Though, it’s worth mentioning, you’re the reason we sealed that deal with Adventure Park. Declan showed me the layout you helped him with, too, and I think you’ve got great potential as a designer.”
Me? A designer like my mother? Not possible.
“What about the fancy apartments, clothes, and cars? You’ll be embarrassed to tell people you’re with someone who shops at thrift stores and rides the bus. Not to mention, I’m late to everything, and you hate being late almost more than my bare feet.”
“For your information, I love your bare feet.”
I cram my fingers in my hair, tugging the strands until my scalp stings enough to release some tension. Because he’s being annoyingly heart-melty when I’m struggling to keep the damn thing intact.
“The point is, you’re a planner, and I go with the flow. Don’t you think you’re going to get sick of me running amuck, doing whatever I want, whenever I want? You don’t want a family, and I want the whole experience. The wedding, the babies, the messes, and everything else that comes with it. You don’t want those things, but that’s not changing for me. It’s the one standard I refuse to give up for anyone, even you.
“I’ll never sit still. I’ll never be quiet. I’m impulsive, reckless, and I don’t like to conform. You might come home one day, and I’ll have painted the whole house blue. And when you ask me why, I’ll say, ‘Because it’s Bluesday,’ and it won’t make any damn sense, but it’ll have to be enough because that’s who. I. am.”
