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I gulped. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping. What did Mark want?”
Without a word, Logan marched into the living area.
Confused, I followed him. “Logan?” I watched him pack his belongings into his duffle bag. “Where are you going?”
Finally, he stopped. He drew in a deep breath and turned around. “Mark was here to give me an assignment. So, I have to go.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. For however long it takes to get the job done.”
“Where?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say. But it means I might not be able to see you for a while.”
My bottom lip trembled, and he finally turned off the cold military guy and became Logan again. He came to me and held me tight against him as tears trickled down my face. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s the shittiest timing ever. I’m not leaving you; I’m not abandoning us. I meant what I said upstairs. I love you and I want to be with you. But this is the nature of my job; sometimes it will take me away from you, even if we don’t want it to.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you were out of the military?” I mumbled against his shoulder.
“I am. But this is a similar job. I can still be deployed, except it’s not for my country.” Logan grabbed his keys and pulled a spare off the keyring. He held it out to me. “I’m giving you this because if you ever want to come down here for the weekend or for another vacation, you’re welcome to stay here, you and your friends. My home is your home, okay?”
My mouth fell open as I took the key from him. It was a huge step to give someone unfettered access to your house. I didn’t fail to see the significance of this. “Okay,” I said.
Logan kissed me again and we committed one another to memory—the way our mouths melded together, the way our bodies clung to one another, how we each tasted and smelled and felt. I would never want any other man, not as long as Logan walked this Earth.
“I have to go,” Logan whispered once the kiss had ended. “I love you, Aria Jones.”
“I love you, too, Logan . . ..” I froze. How the hell didn’t I know his surname? “Ah . . ..”
Logan smiled. “Newcombe.”
“Newcombe.” The way I repeated his surname made me sound like a love-drunk puppy.
Logan moved away from me. He zipped up his bag and shouldered it. “Take your time here. Shower, have breakfast, coffee. What’s mine is yours, babe. I’ll see ya.”
The door closed and he made his way to his truck. As I watched him back down the driveway and drive off, my soul tore itself in two.
