Page 44 of It Had To Be Us

After setting my alarm for a ridiculously early hour, I jump into bed at nine and curl up with a romance novel, needing to escape into another world, needing to stop thinking. And it works…until it doesn’t.

Chasing Eric into our bedroom, I pull at the hem of his shirt to get his attention, because God knows calling his name isn’t working.

“What, Dani?” He turns around, and I’m faced with a mask where his features should be. It’s dark, almost shadow-like, and I can’t make out his expression at all.

“I just want to know why?” I say, though I’m not really sure what I’m asking.

Eric’s hand runs down his shadowed face—at least, I think it does—and he sighs. “This is something I have to do,” he says, seemingly aware of my meaning, even though I’m not. “I’ll explain more when I get home.”

“Why? Why can’t you tell me now?”

I reach out to grab him but can’t feel anything; my hand just moves through the air.

“You wouldn’t understand, Dani. Not yet, anyway.”

I’m confused by his response but don’t even question him as he brushes past me and walks toward the door. A shiver runs down my spine, but I ignore it.

“Can’t you come home after? Explain it to me then?”

“I can’t, babe. You know that. It’s just easier if I stay in the city. But I’ll be home Sunday.”

Stepping over the threshold, Eric disappears without a backward glance just as the door slams shut with the wind.

I wake with a start and realize my alarm is blaring, the time flashing angrily at me to get up. My heart races in my chest after yet another dream. Another reminder of his lies.

He never stayed in the city.

And he never came home.

The difference between this dream and the others, though…in this dream we were fighting. And I have no recollection of that happening. Did we fight before he left? Is this my subconscious or my imagination? What was he hiding? Who was he with? It all comes back to that.

Dragging myself out of bed, I slowly dress and sunscreen my face, leaving the makeup untouched on the counter. I’m too tired for contacts, but I pack them in my bag, just in case I change my mind after the hour drive. When I’m all set to go, I take a deep breath and block out the voices telling me to stay home. It’s just a talk. Nothing more. So, with that, I head off in search of Logan, praying that he’s in the one place I expect him to be on a Sunday morning—the beach.

Chapter Fifteen

Logan

Myalarmpullsmefrom sleep at four in the morning on Sunday, ready to hit the surf. If it was for any other reason, I would have hit the snooze button several times. My ability to rise early has long diminished since I no longer do it daily. And I guess getting extra sleep is supposed to be good for one’s health, so there’s that.

Within minutes of arriving at my go-to beach, I’m on the water, catching my first wave as the sun starts to brighten the sky. Slithers of light bounce off the waves sending flashes of colors in all directions, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful. At least until something better does in fact present itself.

I’ve been at it for about twenty minutes when movement on the shore catches my eye. The distance between myself and the sand makes it difficult to make out specific details, but I’d know her anywhere.

Dani lays out her towel next to my things and sits down, curling her arms around her legs. Just like she did that day we don’t talk about. Back when we didn’t really know each other.

I watch her for a moment, and when she seems to be looking in my direction, I wave, getting a lift of her hand in return.

After surfing another set of waves, I make my way back to the shore, desperate to see her. And after quickly drying myself off, I drop down beside her and smile, facing the ocean as I talk. “Are you here for me?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dani sigh as she runs her fingers through her dark hair—hair that’s significantly longer than when I first saw her here. “I am,” she says slowly. “But it’s only because I feel bad about the way we ended things last week.”

“You mean you feel guilty for not replying to my nice text.” Turning her way, I wait to see if she’ll look at me. But she doesn’t. Instead, she sighs again, only louder this time.

“No, not guilty. Well, not guilty in the way you think I am. But I shouldn’t have ghosted you.”

“Because you liked it?”

“Logan,” she huffs out in frustration, finally looking my way. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

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