He’s familiar in the way dreams are. Like a song I almost remember. A name on the tip of my tongue.
My throat burns. But I manage one question.
“Who are you?” He stops breathing. His expression cracks open. And I swear—I feel it inside me.
“It’s me,” he says softly. Like it hurts to say it. “Logan.” The name detonates inside my chest. A spark. A jolt. A wildfire.
Logan.
The boy who used to throw pebbles at my window. The boy who knew all my secrets. The boy who picked me daisies and swore we’d be best friends forever.
I know that name. I know him. But the man standing in front of me isn’t that boy.
He’s older now—sharper around the edges. Inked and broad-shouldered. Shadows live behind his eyes. He isn’t the boy from the porch swing. He’s a man I don’t quite recognize.
“Logan?” I whisper.
He nods, once. Swallows hard. “You’ve been in an accident,” he says, voice thick. “I’m going to get a doctor. I’ll be right back.” He turns to leave— But something in me screams no.
Because if he’s here—
If this is real—
“Is Braden…” The words catch in my throat. “…is Braden gone?”
He stops. His hand grips the doorframe. He doesn’t answer right away. And that silence? It shreds me. He turns back, slow and heavy. His face is carved in grief. His shoulders slump under a weight he’s carried too long. He steps forward. Not rushing. Careful. Controlled. Like I might break. Like he already has. He kneels beside my bed. Reaches for my hand. Fingers brushing mine before curling around them. His touch is warm. Steady. Real. His thumb moves gently over my skin. Reverent. Anchoring. And I know—before he says it.
I know.
Braden is gone.
His blue eyes meet mine. Shattered and shining.
“Yes,” he breathes. And the word… it isn’t just confirmation. It’s aheartbreak. Aconfession. Anunraveling.
The sob tears out of me—raw and ripping. It’s been waiting. Trapped beneath my ribs.
“Braden…” I choke. “He—?” Logan flinches. His breath shudders.
And for a second, I swear he’s breaking too. “He died,” he says. “In a car accident. Six months ago.”
Six months.
The words hang in the air like smoke. They don’t settle. They sting.
My world tilts—not with a crash, but a slow, suffocating slide. Like falling. Not through space. Through time I can’t remember. Braden is gone. And I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t even know I’d lost him. Tears fall—hot and silent. I don’t wipe them away.
Because the pain feels real now.
Chapter 2
Logan
Mac clings to me like I’m the only solid thing in a world that’s crumbling beneath her. Her fingers fist my shirt—desperate—as if letting go might make me vanish too. Her face is soaked with tears, her whole body trembling so violently I feel it in my bones. And it guts me. Watching her fall apart all over again.
I was there the first time—the night Braden died. The night her world cracked open and swallowed her whole. Her parents. Her Grams. And now this.
Again.
