She looked down. The perfect amount of creamer. He had made her coffee just the way she liked it. She smiled sadly. “Thank you.”
“I suppose this is goodbye,” he said.
She couldn’t look up. If she did, he’d see her eyes had filled with tears. She refused to cry in front of Logan. Not again. They both knew what this was. And now she was going, like they’d both understood all along.
“Yeah.”
“It’s been…” he trailed off.
What? It’s been what?
She wanted to scream. Just tell me! But she didn’t. She sat silently.
“Thank you,” she said, finally lifting her eyes to look at him.
His expression was shuttered. Unreadable. “Thank you for everything.”
He turned his head, watching as King and Isla opened the door from the deck and approached, hands gripping the edge of the bar. “You don’t need to thank me. Anyone would have?—”
“No, they wouldn’t. But you did. So thank you.” She reached across and covered his hand with hers. His fingers stiffened then his hand turned and gripped hers briefly, squeezing gently before pulling away.
It was that touch that she still felt as King drove them away from Cape Wilde. Logan’s hand on hers as her heart slowly broke.
She rested her head against the cold glass of the window, watching the trees as Cape Wilde disappeared behind her.
ChapterThirty-Two
Logan
She’d been gone almost two months. The longest of Logan’s life. Late summer had turned to the beginning of fall, the green leaves changed into an almost never-ending pile of golden brown.
Golden brown like Harper’s eyes.
Everywhere he saw those leaves, he saw Harper. He was already known for being quiet, but now he was beginning to get a reputation as a grump. His workers approached him cautiously, and even his family were a little wary. He hated that.
But he didn’t know how to fix it.
So instead he was working weekends helping Rhett and Charlie build their Eco Lodge.
Despite the chill air, he was working without a shirt, sweat running down his back to dampen the waistband of his jeans. Logan swung the hammer, banging in nails to fix the siding to the exterior of the building.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His mind drifted as he moved rhythmically through the work, years of practice showing in the efficient way he placed the boards and secured them with nails.
“Are you done?”
Logan turned, irritated that his silent work was being interrupted. He’d just about managed to lose himself in it, and now he had to talk to someone.
Mason stood half a dozen or so feet away, frowning at him.
“No,” Logan said, turning back to his work. “I still have more to go.”
“I wasn’t talking about The Lodge.” He could hear the frown in Mason’s voice. But then again, Mason was always frowning.
Logan decided to humor him. “Then what were you talking about?” He was bending to pick up the next piece of timber when something Mason said had him freezing.
“Sorry?” He straightened and turned to face his big brother.
