Page 5 of Breathless

All around me, people talk and retrieve their bags, but my feet are glued in my flip-flops to the searing hot concrete as I watch Logan stalk closer. He’s beautiful, with those mesmerizing blue eyes, that messy, dirty blond hair, and the easy grace of an athlete from a lifetime of riding horses. He’s wearing jeans and a faded Port Aransas T-shirt, my favorite of his, that says “love at first bite” with an image of a shark that’s taken a chunk out of aboat.

Even though I want to look away, I can’t. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him, and I want to soak him in. Every cell in my body screams to run to him. To get closer. To throw my arms around him and tell him what’s been burning in my heart since I was agirl.

In my head, it’s one of those rom-com montages where the heroine runs gracefully across the screen with the sun silhouetting her from behind. In that moment, the guy realizes how much he needs her and opens his arms as she throws herself into his body. He twirls her around and around until they kiss. And then it cuts to a scene a year later where they’re married with babies and surrounded by furry farmanimals.

I press my hand across my eyes with a self-deprecating laugh because I’m obviously delusional. Maybe Iwasmugged back at that rest stop, and I’m lying on the ground somewhere dying. That’s the only way to explain how I could be fantasizing right now about the guy I left the dang state toavoid.

“Josephine.”

His rough voice cuts through my racing thoughts and does what it always does—before I can even peel my hand away from my face, goosebumps erupt on my skin and my nipples harden like little traitors begging to get out of a jailcell.

This is the problem. My head knows I’m an idiot for being in love with Logan, for wanting someone who’s never wanted me, but my body has never gotten thememo.

He sighs. “Joey, comeon.”

My heart thrashes against my ribs like a fish that’s been beached at high tide. How far is Mexico? I could make a run forit.

“Damn it, would you please look atme?”

Finally, I open my eyes, and my breath catches because he’s so close, and in the breeze, beneath the familiar scent of Texas cedar welcoming me home, I smell him—his ocean-crisp soap and leather and clean sweat. Cinnamon gum andcoffee.

My eyes dart down to our feet where his black boots tower ominously close to my flimsy flip-flops and pearlescent pink nailpolish.

One rough finger tilts my chin, and I lift my eyes up his muscled thighs, perfectly encased in washed-out denim, up his slender waist and broad shoulders, and pause on his square jaw and the firm set of hislips.

Lips I’ve always longed tokiss.

Lips that have kissed many,manyothergirls.

But neverme.

Because maybe I’m not good enough. Or old enough. Or pretty enough. Or smart enough. Or big-boobed enough. Or whatever it is that keeps me firmly parked in the friendzone.

With that final twinge of pain, a good reminder that I need to get my shit together and not let myself swirl down this drain of self-loathing—because no man is worth me questioning my value—I clench my jaw and make eyecontact.

We stare at each other, his blue eyes stark while they study me beneath tightbrows.

Even though I’ve daydreamed of a thousand snarky things I want to say to him, they blow away in the breeze when he breaks into a breathtaking smile and wraps me in ahug.

“Missed you, brat. Can’t believe you ghosted me.” Holy crap, I’m in the air, just for a minute, but my feet lift off the ground as he mumbles, “You ever do anything like that again, and I will spank your ass. You hearme?”

I’m laughing against him with my nose pressed to his neck, and he’s chuckling too as he holds me tightly, and for this space in time, nothing bad has happened between us. There are no hurt feelings. No misplaced emotions or unrequited crushes. He’s just the boy I grew up with who’s always had my back. The one I’ve always loved in one way or another. The boy who’s always kept mysecrets.

In this safe place in his arms, I make myself a promise. To tell him how I feel. To lay it all out and tell him why Ileft.

Even if I have to let him go in theend.

3

Logan

It’s sogood to see Joey, to breathe in her sweet floral scent, to feel her against me and know she’s back home, safe and sound after all this time apart, that it’s hard for me to let hergo.

A throat clears next to me, and I reluctantly set her on the ground. She looks exhausted but beautiful. She’s wearing a bright yellow shirt and khaki shorts, the light colors showcasing her great tan, one she probably got from spending time at the beach with her cousins. Somehow her legs look long, even though she’s a tinything.

Gone is the adorable tomboy who used to follow me and Silas everywhere. Joey is all grown up—has been for a while—but seeing her now after being gone for the last several months seems to highlight the fact that she’s not a little girlanymore.

Swallowing, I lift my gaze off her lush body because nothing good can come from that. Instead, I study the giant mass of blond hair knotted on top of herhead.

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