I nod, hugging one of the tapes to my chest. “I know.”
He leans against the car, arms crossed, black cap on backwards, eyes on me like I’m the only thing anchoring him to the world. Like I’m something fragile and infinite all at once.
“You look good in the sunlight, Mac,” he says quietly.
I blink up at him. “You always said that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
My heart skips, tripping over the affection in his voice. The weight behind it. The way he sees me even when I feel like a ghost in my own life.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
He steps in close, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek, fingertips barely grazing skin. “Of what?”
“That I won’t remember all of him.”
“You have his car. His tapes. His jacket. You have all his things at home.” he promises, his voice rough around the edges.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and slide into the passenger seat. The leather squeaks beneath me, the seat adjusted too far back for my liking. I look around confused for a switch, button or lever when Logan reaches over and helps me adjust the seat. My breath hitches for a moment at the closeness, his scent swirling my brain and short circuiting my trail of thought.
“You ready, angel?” He asks, clicking his belt in, I copy him, nodding.
I’m going home.
With Logan by my side and my brother in spirit.
The tires hum against the asphalt, steady and familiar, as the city fades behind us. But there’s no rush. We drive slow, letting the quiet of the morning fill the space between us.
Logan’s hand is warm against mine, his thumb tracing gentle circles along my knuckles. I hold onto him like he's the onlything keeping me tethered to the world outside the hospital walls.
The air smells different now—fresher, more alive. It’s like the world knows I’m finally out, finally free, even if I don’t completely feel like I am. Not yet. But it’s coming.
I think I must have fallen asleep at some point as I wake to the car no longer rumbling.
“Good afternoon, folks. Do you have any alcohol, tobacco, or firearms you wish to declare?”
Logan snorts.
“No, ma’am. That’s more our cousins across the border, right?”
There’s an awkward pause as the guard frowns, squinting at him.
“Oh, my word. You’re Logan Dale. The Logan Dale, right?”
He nods, and she lights up.
“You mind if I get a selfie?”
I wrinkle my nose—not from jealousy. Definitely not. He glances at me with one brow raised, and I give him a soft smile, the pressure in my chest easing just a little.
“Of course not,” he says with a grin, leaning closer to the driver’s side window as she fumbles for her phone.
“Oh, rats… that means you’re—oh, holy shit, girl. You were all over Lainey Gossip. Poor thing. Right, I’ll get out of your hair. Drive safe—and welcome home.”
The border guard’s cheeks flush pink. I can’t tell if it’s from the selfie or the fact she recognized me too late. My gut says her stomach probably dropped when she realized who I was.
I guess I’m a celeb by proxy now…
