Then, I slid down the back of the door until I hit the floor, knees pulled to my chest.
My breath hitched and tears slipped out before I realized.
They slid down my cheeks and soaked into the old carpet beneath me, and I didn’t even try to stop them.
I didn’t knowwhyI was crying. Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was the build-up of heartache, the fear of being loved, the relief of being seen.
But for once, I let it happen.
I let myself feel because maybe that’s what healing actually is. Perhaps it is letting the dam break and allowing the flood to carry you somewhere new.
26
LOGAN
Sleep found me easily that night. After all the dancing, laughter, and whatever the hell that electric thing was between me and Ellie, I was spent. The kind of tired that wraps you up and doesn’t let go.
But apparently, it let go.
There was no way it was already morning. I was sure I’d just closed my eyes. Then again, when sleep is good, it feels like that.
Groggy, I rolled over and blinked through the haze, squinting at the red glow of the bedside clock.
Three forty-five a.m.
I groaned, flopping to the other side, burying my face in the pillow—just in time for a sharp knock to echo through the room.
Again.
That must’ve been what woke me.
Another knock followed, more urgent this time.
With a low sigh, I sat up and stretched, arms overhead, yawning as my spine cracked and my muscles slowly stirred awake.
Scratching my bare chest, I dragged myself to the door, peeking through the peephole.
I wasn’t about to open up for just anyone in the middle of the night.
But it wasn’t just anyone.
It was Ellie.
She stood on the other side, shifting her weight from foot to foot, glancing around like she was expecting someone—orsomething—to jump out at her. Her fist was raised mid-knock when I opened the door.
“It’s about time,” she huffed, brushing past me into the room like a storm front with bare legs.
“I was asleep,” I muttered, shutting the door behind her. “What’s going on?”
She didn’t answer, just started pacing across the room, eyes wide, expression tight like she was reliving a nightmare.
“El.” I stepped closer. “Talk to me.”
She shivered all over and did a little hop in place like something had crawled up her leg.
“Something touched my foot.” She pointed toward the wall that separated our rooms. “In there. While I was in bed.”