Page 32 of Coff

I can’t hear any more of this. “Well, I guess there is no future for us. Because, as you know, in all of our calls, our future was here in California. I’m not moving to Virginia.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I think you should go. I’ll call you a cab.”

He reaches for my hand, but I pull it back. “Please, let’s not end it like this.”

I blink back the tears threatening to fall. “You chose to end it like this. This is on you.”

He doesn’t move. “I’m so sorry, Delaney. This isn’t how I imagined this night going.”

“Yeah, me too. You better go pack.”

The man I thought was my future walks away from me. I call the cab, then sit on the floor of this empty building in my own thoughts. I finally drag myself up and walk back to the house as the cab pulls into the driveway. Logan is on the front porch with his bag.

Ted, our town’s cab driver, gets out of the car and walks over to us.

“Hi, Delaney. You need a ride?”

“Hi, Ted. No, this man does. To the airport.”

“Let me grab your bag,” Ted says and takes the duffel from Logan, leaving us alone on the porch.

His eyes are red and glassy. But even that doesn’t soothe my anger. How dare he change everything and after he told me he loves me. That’s not love. That’s selfish.

“Delaney, I really am sorry.”

I shake my head. “No need. It clearly wasn’t meant to be. I have one controlling man in my life. I don’t need another one.”

“That’s not what this is.” He sighs. “Look, if you ever need anything, you can call me, all right?”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”

I take one last look at the man I thought was my everything. Then I step inside the house and close the door—on him and that chapter of my life.

Once the cab drives away, I scream and cry and let it all out. How dare he be so wonderful to lure me in? And the things he said about my dad, assuming he’s a criminal. It’s insulting.

Well, I’m done with controlling men and relationships. I’ll never forget what Logan did, and I’m never falling for a man’s lies again.

CHAPTER9

Logan

Twelve Years Later

Durango waves his finger, indicating we are going now. We make our way down the hallway into the main warehouse as quietly as we can.

Durango enters the room first, with Ozzie right behind him and me behind Ozzie. Axel is ready to come in through the window the moment he sees us.

Our guns are trained on the three men standing with their backs to us.

“Hands up,” Durango shouts.

The men do as they are told. Near them are hundreds of boxes. On a table to the right of the men are several automatic rifles.

“Step this way,” Ozzie says.

The men step away from the guns.

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