Page 8 of Landing Her Eagle
Ooh, bonus, I got tedious and frustrating too. Yay. Nothing makes a Friday more fun than playing 52 Card Pickup with the huge paper stack you had meticulously put in alphabetical order so you could get some much-needed filing done. We won’t mention the paper cut I got from the file jacket. I swear, my pinky needed a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
“Home sweet home,” I moan as I let myself into the house after work. Flopping onto the sofa, I decide I’m going to meld with it, become one with it. At least for the weekend. No reason to leave the house until work on Monday, right? The lighthouses aren’t going anywhere. They’ve been there over a hundred years already. No rush. I can do the challenge next year. Yeah, good plan.
My phone signals a new text.
Logan: You are not backing out of doing the challenge this weekend.
Me: What makes you think I was even considering it??
I glance around to see if there are hidden cameras I’m not aware of. Maybe he’s psychic? I hope not. If he knew the thoughts I had the other night, I’d never be able to look him in the eye again. Not that his eyes were the parts of his anatomy my fantasies focused on.
I write “batteries” on the grocery list hanging on my fridge. I should check into a BOB that charges with USB…
Logan: Years of friendship.
Me: What?
Logan: Years of friendship tell me you’re searching for reasons to skip doing the challenge this weekend and stay home. You probably told yourself the lighthouses aren’t going anywhere and there’s always next year.
Me: Lol, well, I’m feeling called out. Fine, I’ll go. But for the record, I had a rotten day at work. I have an injury.
My phone rings. Logan. Who else would it be?
“Logan?” I ask quizzically.
His deep voice is hard to hear over the crowd around him, but he sounds frantic.
“Are you okay? Did you go to the hospital? I’m so sorry for teasing you. Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine, Logan. It was just a paper cut. Just me being melodramatic. Sorry I worried you.” I rest my forehead against the cool surface of the refrigerator.
I hear him let out a deep breath and say a quiet, “Thank God.”
My heart does a funny little stutter step. “Hey, everything is okay. I’m being silly. Everything’s fine. Why are you so upset?”
The crowd noise fades a bit. Where is he? Maybe a train station? I thought I heard a loudspeaker making announcements.
“I worry about something happening to you when I’m so far away,” he says.
Forget a stutter step. My heart is doing a full-on cha-cha now because of the worry in his voice.
“Right back atcha, dude,” I whisper softly.
My brain knows he’s strong and competent. He isn’t reckless, but some places he’s gone and things he’s done through the years have kept me up nights. Logan doesn’t tell me about the sketchy situations he’s encountered until after he comes home. That way I don’t worry, but I’m petrified that someday I’m going to get the call that something has happened—he’s been mugged in a dark alley or fallen off a mountain or been in an accident, and he’s gone. Then I’d truly be all alone in the world. I don’t know if I’d survive that.
“Daphne, I gotta go. Promise you’ll do the lighthouse challenge this weekend. Even if you don’t do the whole thing, do some of it each day. Go to Cape May on Sunday. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“Where are you going? Are you at a train station? I’ll do it and text you the selfies I take. Be careful.” My turn to be the concerned friend.
Logan calls out to someone that he’s coming. “I will. You be careful too. Talk to you soon. Watch out for deer and wet leaves. Bye.”
I let out a shaky laugh. Gran used to say, “Bye, love ya, be careful. Watch out for deer and wet leaves,” when we would leave her house after a visit. I hadn’t thought about that in a while. Wet leaves and deer aren’t all I need to watch out for. When he’s concerned and protective of me like this, I can almost convince myself he feels more for me than friendship. I stop those thoughts though because the crash will hurt too much when it turns out we’re still only friends.
8
LOGAN
Thankgoodness for business class seating. The flight from London to Philadelphia would have been hell in coach. I’m too tall. It was easier to get a flight from Prague to London and then London to Philadelphia rather than try to fly directly from Prague to Philly. I thank the flight attendant for the tumbler of whiskey and get comfortable. Day drinking isn’t my usual habit, but it’s not like I’m driving in the next few hours.
