Page 9 of Ripple Effect

I’ve tried my luck at a couple of texts throughout the day, hoping to not sound as desperate as I feel, but my phone remains eerily silent. He’s busy, I tell myself. Baseball, his friends at Dayton ... it’s a different world, and it’s not like we have to be in constant communication.

But as the crackling fire casts shadows over our little group and the sea whispers stories to the night, his silence weighs heavy on my mind. This isn’t like him, like us.

I sneak out my phone, pretending to be absorbed in some conversation about a recent football game.No new message.I swallow the disappointment that trickles in and find myself scrolling through Instagram. A few taps later, I’m on Logan’s profile, his smiling face and silly captions working to bridge the distance.

But then, my stomach bottoms out.

It’s a tagged picture, candid, of his teammate. But what leaves me cold is the background. Logan is there, a girl laughing, curled up on his lap in a familiar sort of way.

I have no idea who she is, never seen her before in my life, but she’s extremely pretty. Long, dark hair and a tiny little outfit that’s bunched up on her thighs.

My gut twists, my mind freezes, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight.

With a lump in my throat, I mutter something about needing some air, the sounds of the fire and laughter fading as I head toward the murmur of the waves. It’s just an innocent picture, a new friend that I haven’t met before, I try to reason, but my heart pounds in disagreement.

Pulling up Logan’s contact, I hit Dial. The line rings, every tone echoing my anxiety. It’s an eternity and a half before he finally picks up, and I’m not even sure how many times I hit the Call button.

His voice is drowned out by the sound of music and laughter, but I can still hear him ask, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” I force myself to speak, my voice unsteady. “But, um, Lo, where are you?”

He sounds surprised, almost caught off guard. “I’m at a get-together with the team.”

“Ah, you didn’t mention that before.”

“We trained all day, and they wanted to unwind a bit. I thought you’d be hanging out with your new friends, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

His words hit me harder than I expect, a cruel reminder of the distance between us. But the picture flashes back in my mind, forcing me to confront the nagging doubt.

“Oh, I saw a photo of you just now,” I manage, my voice hushed by the crash of the waves beside me. “You’re at a party, and there’s some random girl on your lap.”

There’s a pause, a stretch of silence that makes my stomach sink. I hold my breath, clutching my phone, as the sea whispers comfort I can’t feel.

This isn’t how the night was supposed to go, not with me walking alone on a beach hundreds of miles away from Logan, waiting for an explanation for a picture that might mean nothing at all. But as the silence stretches, it feels like it’s the only thing that matters.

When Logan finally speaks, his voice is a jumble of noise against the background chaos. “Babe, that’s just ... she’s just one of Scott’s friends.”

His words hang in the silence between us, an echo of the doubt gnawing at my gut. “Then why is she sitting on your lap, Logan?”

He exhales loudly, a static huff of frustration that sends a shiver down my spine. “There weren’t a lot of places to sit, and it was only for a few minutes. It’s not a big deal.”

“But—”

“Daisy, if you were here, you’d see it’s nothing. It’s just a party.” His voice is quiet now, softer than I’ve heard it in a while. It’s a plea, a desperate grasp at the trust that’s suddenly so thin between us.

“You know I wish I could be there with you,” I confess, my voice choked with the sorrow I’ve been fighting to hold back. “But I thought you were okay with all this, with me transferring to Coastal.”

“I was. I am.” His answer is immediate, but it’s devoid of the warmth I’m used to. “I just didn’t realize how hard this would end up being.”

It’s my turn to go quiet. I can hear the underlying accusation in his voice.

Is this my fault? Am I the one ruining us?

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if you just picked up your phone a few times this week,” I finally retort, frustration replacing the creeping guilt.

He scoffs, and it grates on my heart. “So, it’s my fault that you decided to put all this distance between us?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” My voice rises, anger and hurt tingeing my words. I don’t realize I’m shouting until his silence slams into me.

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