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He squeezes his eyes shut. “Olivia, you are silly because you lack so much confidence in yourself. You are completely unaware that you are insanely amazing and capable of doing anything.”

Tears prick at my eyes. No one has ever declared so much faith in me. I misunderstood him, and then, to make everything worse, I insulted him.

I swallow, hardly able to speak, his words settling inside of me. “I need a minute,” I say, then I hurry up the stairs and into the bathroom. I sit on the toilet, my head in my hands, and release a muffled sob. I breathe and collect my emotions. I don’t want to spend the night crying in the bathroom because Logan thinks I’m silly for downplaying my worth.

I simply need a minute—which I’m giving myself. Exhaling, I stand, reapply my mascara, and exit the bathroom.

Wonderously, Logan thinks I am capable of anything—and I won’t let him down or keep him waiting any longer.

He watches for me at the bottom of the stairs, his forehead wrinkled in worry.

I stop two stairs above him, meeting him at eye level. “No one has ever shown that kind of conviction in me before. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I didn’t mean to offend you.” I don’t want to lose his confidence, and I never want him to look at me with those worry wrinkles again. “When you said that…” I shake my head at how ridiculous it sounds now. At how quick I’d been to turn his playful words into hurtful ones. “When you called me silly, I thought you were judging me. I’m sorry. I should have known better. I just…” I blow out a puff of air. “I like you, Logan. And the thought of you thinking⁠—”

“It’s okay.” His lips curve upward, and the sadness leaves his eyes. “I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

His quick forgiveness makes me braver than I am. With steadiness, I clasp my hands around his neck, my fingers playing with the curls at the ends of his dark hair. I lean closer and his arms slide around my waist, hugging me tight. The flecks of amber in his brown-green eyes glisten as I take what I want, closing the gap between us.

His lips mold with mine, his breath warm and sweet on my skin. After one minute of pure bliss, he pulls back, his eyes smiling. “Are you ready to go?”

“Mm-hmm.” But letting go of him feels wrong. My hands fall to my sides, but I tilt his way, like a magnet being lured in Logan’s direction.

It hits me. I have never in my life felt this way before. And I instantly understand how Amelia could fall in love so easily in such a short amount of time.

I slide into my high heels and jacket as Logan waits by the door. His scent of musk and man seems to linger on me. I breathe it in like my own personal narcotic.

Oh, Logan. What have you done to me? I think I’d follow you anywhere.

Even to karaoke.

Twenty-Eight

After a ten-minute drive, we pull up to an old brown barn with a long dirt parking lot. More than a dozen cars fill the parking spaces.

“Ruthie’s is this old barn that had been abandoned for years. The Conners bought it four or five years ago and turned it into a bar.” Logan kills the truck engine. “But they wanted it to be family-friendly. So, one Friday a month, they have karaoke. There’s no alcohol, so families and teens come out for something to do.”

All the blood drains from my face. There’s no way I heard him right. “You’re kidding?”

Logan shakes his head, his right shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re saying you expect me to get up and make a fool of myself with half of the high school watching? How could you possibly think this would relax me?” He’s giving them ammunition for Monday morning.

“Livy, I’m not expecting anything. You don’t have to sing. We can just watch.”

My racing heart slows with his explanation. Watching… just watching. I can do that. No singing. I lick my lips and tell myself to breathe.

“Better?” He cups his warm hand on my cheek.

I might be able to relax while watching other people make fools of themselves. That doesn’t sound horrible at all. In fact, watching Rachel Lemonade sing a romantic ballad could possibly do me a lot of good. I nod into Logan’s hold.

I’ve never been to a karaoke night, but I grew up with cable—it’s not like it’s a foreign concept.

Logan and I walk through the double doors hand in hand. The ground is dirt, and there are bales of hay piled along the walls. But there’s also a dance floor and a full bar with all the amenities. There’s a framed sign sitting on the bar that reads: Non-alcoholic options, with a list of sodas, lemonades, and virgin drinks. Round tables scatter throughout the large room, and a portable stage with two mics sit at the front of the dance floor. Huge speakers face outward. The kind of speakers my dad probably used—in high school.

All at once, the speakers boom with a voice mostly on key. I recognize the man on stage instantly. “Joe?” I say through a spurt of laughter.

“Joe never misses karaoke night.” Logan’s breath is warm at my ear.

I clasp his hand with both of mine as he leads me through the crowd to an empty table. There’s a chorus of hellos as we walk while Denise Black from Rendezvous High waves from across the room. I’m semi-amazed as I recognize probably half the people in the bar—they all recognize me, of course.