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“Okay.” Logan’s chest rises and falls with a breath. “I’ll walk you home.”

Pinching my lips together, I suddenly feel like laughing. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“I think I can make it.”

His warm hand presses to my back, leading me to the door, lingering there before opening the exit and walking me out.

A crisp spring breeze rustles through the air, forming goosebumps on my skin. I fold my arms, running my fingers over the chill bumps as we walk side by side to Amelia’s front door.

“So, are you answering your phone yet?” he asks.

“Wha— You called me?” I say, wishing I could hide a smidgen of my overly pleased emotions.

Logan chuckles. “Yes, I called you. A few times. I figured you were still angry with me.”

“Believe me, it’s not you I’m avoiding. I need to invest in caller ID. I can’t handle a conversation with my father or Benjamin right now.” I laugh, then freeze, as if someone just dumped a cold glass of water over my head. “Benjamin,” I whisper, my lip snarling upward in annoyance. “I am a horrible person.” I haven’t thought of him once. I haven’t been mourning at all. I kissed Logan two whole days after sending Ben packing. What kind of person am I?

“Can I remind you of something?” Logan lifts my chin until my eyes meet his. My body reacts to his touch like a magnetic pull, like a child at Christmas, like a long-lost love finally found. “You broke up with Benjamin. With good reason. I witnessed the whole thing.” He steps closer and wraps a hand around my back. Willingly, like the awful person I am, I melt right into him, basically giving the man permission to place another soft kiss on my lips. Which he does.

I audibly sigh. It cannot be helped. Logan Heyborn is good at kissing.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

And with that, I believe him.

I cannot picture a life with Ben anymore. It’s strange that the future I thought was so clear could vanish so quickly, but it did. And I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with the man in front of me. I might be able to ignore the world crumbling around me if Logan is in the room.

“Goodnight, Olivia,” he says, and I am lost to everything else.

Twenty

I can’t sleep. I have to work early, and yet my eyes refuse to shut. My heart thuds as if Logan were lying next to me rather than an entire house away. I roll onto my side and take a deep breath, attempting to breathe in Amelia. Her cinnamon scent has lingered despite my thorough cleaning.

Amelia. I need to understand her better. Something inside of me needs to know my grandmother. Since it’s probably not appropriate to wake up the adorable next-door neighbor to chat at one in the morning and I’m not sleeping…

July 3, 1955

I’ve decided Dad sent me here as punishment. What I’ve done wrong, I’m not sure. I haven’t spoken to another soul except for Uncle Herb and Aunt Lila in three days. I may die of loneliness, or possibly boredom.

And the strangest thing happened yesterday. I was helping Aunt Lila in the garden. The woman grows everything! It’s oddly beautiful for a woman who rarely smiles. As I helped her weed, I told her how I visited with Seth Garrison at the store. She didn’t say anything. She usually acknowledges me when I’m talking, at least.

When I asked if she knew him, she said, “Yes, I know him; this is Ganesworth.” She sounded crabbier than usual, and I couldn’t understand why. I was helping her on my one day off! How had I irritated her?

However, I decided to continue, and that’s when Aunt Lila became extremely strange. I said, “I like him. He’s nice—much better than that arrogant Philip Harlem!”

She stopped her work and looked me in the eye. She said, “You’d be wise to stay clear of Seth Garrison.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

But she refused to speak again. After my third plea for some type of explanation, she left. She just tossed down her hoe and went inside, leaving me to care for the rest of her massive garden myself!

Before I keel over from this insipid town, I’m going to find Seth Garrison and make him explain to me exactly what Aunt Lila meant. If anything, it’s something to do. He signed the guest book at the gallery. I’m going to see if he recorded his address. If so, I think I’ll pay him a visit tomorrow.

Amelia

I sit in the cab of Logan’s truck, thinking about forearms and lips and⁠—

“Anything new from Amelia?” Logan asks on our morning drive to work.