Page 74 of Under the Orchard’s Spell

I squeeze at Logan’s fingers, which have returned to my side. “I think, what I’d like, is an answer to the question. Why are you here, really?”

This time I’m met with silence. Liv glances at Blake and they share a look, like an unspoken negotiation. Another twist goes through my rib cage, not only because of the casual familiarity in the gesture, but because I recognize it. I’ve seen them glance at each other like that before.

Blake clears his throat. “We came because we’re hoping to find a way for things between us to be cordial. For the next time we run into each other.”

I have a sinking sensation even as I ask the question I’m not sure I want answered. “Why would we be running into each other?”

“Because we’re moving to Apple Valley,” Liv says with a barely contained squeal of excitement.

I step back. Logan’s hand tightens on my waist.

Liv is still talking. Something about how going back to Florida only proved how perfect Oregon was for them. How Blake will be volunteering with the ski patrol this winter. How she’s already found a job at the farmer’s market.

I can barely hear her over the roar of blood in my ears.

They left me, but they’re going to live here. Together.

I don’t know how to process this.

But I’m also out of time because Blake and Liv are looking at me expectantly—Liv with a hopeful smile, Blake with the edge of presumption—and all I know is I don’t want to be here anymore.

Desperately, I spin toward Logan.

“I can’t,” I mouth.

He grabs my elbow. “We’re leaving.”

Liv’s mouth falls open. But I can’t see any more of their reactions because Logan gently, but firmly, spins me away.

As we forge through the crowd, I feel the prickling static of collective attention. Val has lurched off her stool. Words die on June Hart’s lips as she catches Logan’s expression. Mason has his gaze locked on his brother’s shoulders even as he fills an empty glass. Suddenly, the smell of hay and sawdust is thick in my nostrils, and every lungful of air feels too tight in my ribs.

“I just…I need a minute,” I whisper so only Logan can hear. “Away from all these people.”

He grabs my hand, braiding his fingers with mine and anchoring my knuckles with his thumb. With his massive frame forging our path, we march toward the back door. He grabs two oversize coats off the rack, engulfing my shoulders in one before we spill onto the soggy grass.

Music fades as the door slams, giving way to the steady roar of rain. It splatters against the heavy black jacket, wetting my face until I tug the hood over my curls.

Without pausing, Logan angles me past the pair of food trucks and through parked cars. He doesn’t stop until we’re under the canopy of the trees.

The only place that could help.

I hug myself and wait for my heart to slow its hammering. My dress sandals are already soaked from the sodden grass, and my toes are curling with cold. Around us, crystal pears sway in the driving wind. One loosens from its branch and shatters in a pulpy mess against the hard earth.

From the shadows, Logan’s jaw throbs as he watches me.

“They had no right,” he says. I’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“I don’t know,” I stammer. “It’s just…”

“Don’t say ‘how they are.’ ”

“But it is.”

His fingers flex closed as he levels a hard stare on the barn door. “I shouldn’t have let them get off so easily.”

My next breath catches in my throat. “I don’t think it would have helped.”

Logan’s gaze tracks to my face. I can feel the tears bubbling against my eyes, a sob pushing on my chest. The fight dissolves from his posture. He steps swiftly toward me and cups my chin with his rough fingers.