Page 49 of The Breakaway

"Morning, beautiful," he mumbled into my hair, voice gravelly with sleep.

I tensed, the events of last night rushing back in stark clarity as I stirred, my legs tangled with Logan's under the duvet. He stretched beside me, his arm grazing my shoulder, and pressed a lazy kiss to my bare skin before rolling out of bed.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, still cocooned in warmth, reluctantly slipping out from under the covers. Logan was already up, rummaging through his small carry-on suitcase on the floor. His clothes were neatly folded, his toiletry bag perched on top from using it last night. It was so strange seeing his things packed up and not settled next to mine.

We moved through our quiet morning routine, brushing our teeth side by side in the washroom. His arm grazed mine as he rinsed his brush, and for a fleeting second, things felt normal.

I thought of Rob. How I told him he could use the washroom if he wanted, then realized I’d never actually talked with Logan about the plumbing situation. How long had it been? I’d completely forgotten about it since Rob was doing his level best not to intrude.

"D’you know what’s crazy?" I said with a mouth full of toothpaste. "Rob’s washroom is broken.”

Logan frowned. “What do you mean, broken?”

I shrugged, spitting in the sink. “There’s a leak. It’s been off-limits since you left. He had to phone your dad to get theplumber out here. They came, but they’re still waiting on a part to fix it."

The furrow in Logan’s brow deepened. "He’s been usingyourwashroom? Like, coming in here to shower?”

I nodded. "I never see him. He never even leaves his towel in here.” Truthfully, the only evidence of his presence was a damp bath mat every once in a while. And the scent of his body wash.

Logan’s jaw tightened as he fumbled with his belt, muttering something under his breath.

My patience frayed. "Are you seriously pissed about this? What did you expect him to do—bathe in the Bow?"

Logan exhaled. "I just don’t like the idea of him being in our space."

"It’s a washroom, Logan. Not sacred ground."

He peed, then repositioned himself in his boxers. “Are you two friends now?”

I scrubbed my face, then dried it with a towel. I didn’t know how to answer that. Were we friends? We weren’t enemies anymore, I was fairly sure of that. “I think he’s being nicer. I thought we talked about this? That you asked him to lighten up?”

Logan washed his hands. “Yeah. Right.” He slipped past me and back into our bedroom, pulling on his pants and a clean shirt.

I put on moisturizer and exited the washroom. Even though I knew it wasn’t my job to improve Logan’s mood, I still wanted to. “I could help you make pancakes.” I walked up behind him, pressing against his back and curling my arms around his middle.

He didn’t hug me back. "I was thinking we could grab lunch and hit the German Christmas Market. They’ve got that mulled wine you loved last year."

I dropped my arms as he moved toward the bed to grab his watch off the nightstand. I turned and walked back into the washroom, picking up his bracelet from the shelf and attaching it around my wrist.

"I’m not sure I’ll be able to do the market, but lunch sounds great.” Logan paused, holding his toiletry kit. I swallowed hard. “I thought we talked last night . . . I need to rehearse today. I have an audition tomorrow morning."

His expression darkened. "It’s our one day."

A belt seemed to tighten around my chest, and air refused to fill my lungs. "I know. But you keep making plans without asking whatIneed."

His eyes flashed. "So, this is my fault now? I’m supposed to just . . . what? Sit around while you play violin all day?"

The words hit me like ice water, cold and cutting. I’d never been short with him, and now here I was ready to spout off.It’s our one day.

Ugh, I wanted to scream at him. Why was he doing this? Making me the bad guy?

I needed air.

I pulled on my joggers and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Shar—”

“Don’t.” I jerked my hand back when he tried to grab onto me, then I picked up my violin case and stormed out of the room.

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