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“I hate how much I miss you,” I admit, my tears falling freely now.

“I miss you too,” he says, his voice raw. “So damn much, Lila.”

Before I can say anything else, he cups my face in his hands, his touch both hesitant and desperate. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers.

I don’t tell him to stop.

His lips crash into mine, and it’s like every piece of me that’s been broken suddenly fits back together.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, my hands gripping the front of his jacket.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I say, my voice shaky but firm.

“I know,” he says, his forehead resting against mine. “But it’s a start.”

Then he kisses me again.

Hampton, Virginia

October 12, 2024

1050

Logan

Her lips are still on mine, soft and trembling. I’m struggling to breathe. Not because of the cold biting at us. Or the weight of everything unsaid between us. But because she’s kissing me back.

When she pulls away, I don’t let her step far, my hands still framing her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes shining and filled with tears. She exhales shakily, her breath clouding in the chilly air. I can tell she’s holding back, keeping some invisible wall between us.

And I get it.

I earned that distance.

She steps back, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. I realize she must have left her coat in my truck. She looks amazing. Her toned flawless figure is on display in the fitted long sleeve and curve-hugging jeans she’s wearing. The green of her shirt matches her eyes, making it nearly impossible for me to look away. “Just because we kissed doesn’t mean everything’s suddenly fine.”

“I don’t think that,” I say softly, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her again. “But I couldn’t not kiss you.”

Lila raises a brow, shaking her head slightly. She doesn’t seem mad now, it’s more like she’s still trying to convince me she is. She takes a step back. “What happens the next time things get hard? Are you going to run again? Because I can’t go through that, Logan. I won’t.”

“I won’t run again,” I promise, my voice rough. “I’ve been through hell these past few months, and the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you. I’m not the same guy who left.”

She narrows her green eyes, tilting her head slightly like she’s processing what I just shared. “What’s changed?”

“They didn’t clear me to fly until two weeks ago, Lila,” I admit, my voice gravelly. “After Ryan—after everything—I was a mess. My body couldn’t keep up, and my head was worse. I spent months in physical therapy, forcing my shoulder to work again, and in grief counseling, trying to convince myself I still deserved to be here at all.”

Her arms drop to her sides, and I see the flicker of surprise in her expression, the way her walls shift just slightly. She wasn’t expecting that.

“At first, I went through the motions,” I continue. “Sat in those damn therapy sessions, stared at the wall, counted the minutes until I could leave. But it didn’t go away. None of it. Not Ryan. Not Lincoln. Not you.” My throat tightens, but I push through it. “I had to face it, every part of it—Ryan’s death, my guilt, the way I handled everything after, the way I handled us.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t say a word.

“And then I met Bennett,” I say, my jaw clenching at the memory. “He’s Ryan’s replacement.”

Lila flinches, her eyes widening. “You met Wells?”

The way she says his name makes something in me sharpen.

“Yeah,” I say bitterly, running a hand through my hair.