37
LOGAN
Never in a million years did I think I’d be like every other guy in our friend group—parked at the bar in the middle of the day, unloading my love life onto Mac Ridley.
There was something about bars that made a man’s lips loosen. Maybe it was the comfort of a cold beer, or the illusion of privacy. But it definitely wasn’t Mac’s hospitality. The man barely said ten words unless provoked and usually just stared at you while puffing a cigarette, looking equal parts disinterested and judgmental.
And yet… here I was, falling into the same confessional pattern Boone and Rhodes had. Another sucker caught in the trap of low lighting and a high stool.
“So,” Mac said, drying a glass with a rag slung over his shoulder, a cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth, “you gonna tell me therealreason you and Ellie went on that little trip?”
“Not my story to tell,” I replied, taking a slow sip from my beer before setting it back down on the bar. I spun the coaster absently between my fingers, needing something to do with my hands.
“Ah,” he said, the sound steeped in meaning. “And while you were on this very mysterious trip, did you happen to tell her how you feel? Or are you still being a wuss about it?”
“Dude,” I muttered, tilting my head to the side and glaring at him.
He didn’t flinch. “I’m honest.”
“I know,” I sighed, glancing down at my bottle, unsure how much I could give away without giving everything.
For the past two weeks, I’d been my own damn therapist. No outside perspective. Just me—arguing with myself in circles. And when you’re the only one in your corner, it’s real easy to talk yourself both into and out of a good thing.
“I did,” I said finally, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice.
Silence fell, thick and expectant. If there were cartoon crickets, they’d have been chirping by now.
Mac arched a brow, setting the glass down and leaning on both elbows. “Okay… and?”
“She didn’t reject me,” I said, tracing the lip of the beer bottle with my thumb. “I set up a little picnic on the beach. Told her I was into her. But even before that… something shifted between us. It felt different. Charged.”
Mac nodded slowly, tapping ash into the tray before taking a long drag. “So let me get this straight. You went on the trip because things got… ‘charged,’”—he used air quotes—“and you wanted some alone time?”
“No. The charge came during the trip. The reason we went isn’t really why I’m here. Or why I feel the way I do. Or why I’m sitting in your bar during my lunch break on a Thursday.”
He grunted. “Message received. So, why are you here then?”
The truth was… I wasn’t entirely sure.
Since sleeping with Ellie, something inside me cracked open. What used to feel like only a crush now burned into somethingmore obsessive, more consuming. I could no longer imagine a life where she wasn’t entirely mine.
Though I still wondered what this new chapter looked like for Ellie and me. From friends to lovers, what would change and what would stay the same?
“I just don’t know how to navigate this,” I confessed. “Her. Us. This whole… thing.”
Mac shrugged. “Clearly whatever you were doing before wasn’t working. So do the opposite.”
I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air. “That’s your advice?”
He gave a smirk. “I’m a bartender, not a love guru. But if you want my honest opinion? Throw it all at her. Every ounce of feeling you’ve got. Stop playing defense. You love her,showher.”
He leaned in slightly, his expression more serious now, cigarette bobbing between two fingers. “You already lost her once by hanging in the background.”
He jabbed his cigarette toward me. “You deserve to be happy, Logan. You’re a good man. And she’s not just some girl. She’syourgirl. She always has been. Anyone with eyes has seen it. And we both know you’d treat her the way she should be treated, unlike the other men who’ve been in her life.”
I exhaled slowly and turned my gaze toward the far end of the bar. “I just hope Boone sees it that way.”
Mac’s eyebrows shot up.
