Page 153 of Sapphire Sunset

Would Connor allow it?

He’d asked Connor point blank if he saw the job and therelationship as the same and Connor had deflected and turned things back onLogan, and so Logan had left.

You left.

The words ricocheted through his mind as he drove, thewindows down, the wind blowing across the spot where Connor had been curledagainst him a few days before.

Now he was making the same drive home without him, an awfulforetelling of things to come.Connorlessnights,Connorlessmornings.

It’s easy to storm out of a fight, harder to turn your backon the promise of a bright future.

You left.

He hadn’t given Connor more than a minute to sort throughthe volcano of anger that had erupted that morning for them both. Driven to thesurface by Sylvia Milton’s latest strike.

But the question remained, what would they be withoutSapphire Cove? Whatcouldthey be?

Connor seemed so frightened by the prospect, he didn’t wantLogan to leave its ranks.

And maybe it frightened Logan too.

Maybe that’s what his dad had been hinting at. And maybethat’s why Logan had reached for Sylvia Milton’s accusations like a life raft, flippingthem into accusations against Connor.

Because the truth was something worse. The fear that hadreally plagued him as he’d typed those three lines of text, hitsendonthe resignation letter, marched back to the penthouse suite, and startedpacking his bags was altogether different and entirely his own.

If I can’t stay here without getting everyone fired, howwill I be his hero?

He’d tipped his hand during their fight, let something slipthat had stuck with him in the hours since. He’d called himself white trash,attached it to the insult of man whore, which did seem borne of Sylvia Milton’sinsinuations, but the woman hadn’t attacked his background or his economic status.He’d added that one to the kettle himself. And set it to boil.

He wanted Connor, wanted him always. He wouldn’t besleepless and half crazed if he didn’t. And he’d sure as hell take Connorwithout Sapphire Cove in the mix.

But would Connor take a version of Logan Murdoch who didn’tcome in a tailored blazer bearing the bright gold logo of his family’s legacy?Dinner parties with Chip Murdoch were one thing, but would he take a Logan whoworked part time at a gym while he tried to put together a new future forhimself in law enforcement or firefighting or something that wouldn’t have himstanding beside Connor as he greeted celebrities and politicians and corporatetitans?

Was he guilty of the very things he’d accused Connor of? Ofnot being able to love him, cherish him, value him unless they were bothwrapped in the glittering elegance of a luxury beach resort?

By the time he rolled back into the parking lot at Chip’sKicks, he was exhausted. He’d done what he always did in matters of the heart:litigated it a hundred different ways to try to find a way to avoid spillinghis truth.

You’re the one who left, so you’re the only one who cango back. Not to the hotel, not to the past. To Connor.

How many times had he checked his cell phone over the pasttwo days, hoping for some bleep, some emoji, anything to break the silence? Butwhat right did he have to expect one? The silence was his. He’d brought the axdown.

Twice.

What if five years ago he’d started a conversation insteadof making a decision? What if he’d told Connor his family situation, told himwhy he was so afraid, told him what the risks were and given them a chance totry at something anyway?

On another day, when he wasn’t in this much pain, hewouldn’t have indulged what ifs, but if you ignored a what if for too long itcould turn into a not again.

He pulled his phone out now. Stared at the screen and saw atext from his dad.

How far are you?

Just parked, he wrote back.

Then he was staring at his phone again.

Probably exactly like Connor had stared at his right beforehe wrote that text that made Logan float up out of his body right there in thattiny trailer he’d been sharing with his dad five years ago.

And hadn’t Logan been a few seconds away from writing aswoony text in response? Hadn’t he been thinking of all the passionate thingshe’d say back as soon as he’d snuck into his bedroom to get some privacy? Andthen his hands froze up and the text had died.

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