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“Denada, Penelope.”
My aches and pains have subsided, and my bruises are finally healing after being forced to relax by one bossy, yet elusive, Logan.
I haven’t been able to shake his promise that I’m his, or that in the depths of my soul, no matter how I try to fight it, I know it’s true.
But it’s more than just accepting my feelings for him. I don’t care how innocent he believes Silas is. When that man looked me in the eye and told me Logan had moved on and that I should do the same, it wasn’t a suggestion. It was a threat.
So where does that leave us?
I grab a flayed mango on a stick from a nearby cart, taking my time gathering food for the group home while catching up with some locals I’ve done various odd jobs for. Working with Logan has felt like a fever dream, but this is my normal. A slice of familiarity that allows me to be a provider and gives me a sense of accomplishment.
“Fancy finding you here when I specifically requested that you rest.”
I whip around to find the man himself, glowering with his hip perched on a table piled high with bananas. He’s handsome with his hair messier than usual, a teal polo that accents his eyes, and his hands relaxed in the front pockets of a pair of sand-colored shorts.
“As I’ve told Carrie countless times, I’m fine.” Giving him my back, I continue browsing.
It’s been days since we last saw each other—our only contact being via email, and mostly because I refused to not be involved with the upcoming fundraiser. Still, my palms start to sweat, remembering the way his hands felt on my battered body. How I found comfort in every careful caress.
Dirt and loose rocks crunch beneath his feet when he jogs close. “How are things between you and your hostile little sister?”
I take a bite of mango, mumbling through each chew, “We’ve been playing the avoidance game, keeping things painfully surface level. But I feel shitty for how her vacation has panned out.”
I’m grateful she’s agreed to help Dorthea and Ricardo while I’ve rested, but tensions are undeniably high, and I’m at a loss about how to approach her.
“Hey.” He grins when I turn my face up to his before wiping mango juice from my chin. “Any amount of time you two spend together is meaningful. She knows that.”
I shake my head. “You picked the wrong sister. She’s the smart, hardworking, successful one, and I love her to death, but I’m never going to be her. I guess sometimes I don’t feel like I’m enough.”
“You are enough,” he says with absolute certainty. “And I know pleasing your family is important to you, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting something different for yourself.”
“Even if I don’t know what that something is? Even if I’ll never know?”
He nods, raising a hand and absently tracing the capped sleeve of my vibrant green dress. “Have you ever thought that maybe your purpose is to simply exist?”
“That’d be silly, don’t you think?” My gaze falls between our feet, but not for long.
“You show the world the beauty in small things. You can make a person’s entire day with that laughter of yours, and you’re so full of compassion. Few people have those gifts.” A soft smile rests on his lips when he lowers his hand. “You make people want to change for the better, Pen.”
I’m trying to hold on to my heart, fighting like hell to keep it safe, protected, and whole. But my grip weakens when he takes a fluffy peach flower from a barrel of free blooms and twirls it between his fingers before offering it to me.
He practically beams with victory when I take the stem, the sweet scent filling my nose as we resume walking.
“Thank you for saying that,” I murmur.
Casting him a sideways glance, I place a few avocados in my bag before digging in my dress pocket for a few bills to hand the cart owner. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Came for the laughs.” His lips twitch adorably when he hooks a thumb toward the opposite end of the market strip.
I squint, barely able to make out a man in a palm tree costume, handing out flyers to people walking by. “No way he agreed to that.”
Declan jerks his head our way, flipping his middle finger up when he sees us laughing.
“We have to get the word out about the fundraiser somehow.” Logan shrugs. “Besides, it’s fun to torture him.”
We share a smile that tightens that ever-present cord between us, and for once, it’s nice to be at peace around each other. Enjoying his company, rather than running from it.
I place the flower in the bag on my shoulder before removing an apple. I’m given a look of sheer perplexity when I offer it to him.
