Logan came by today. I swear, the way he looks at Mac—like she’s his whole goddamn universe. He hasn’t said it out loud, not to me, not to her, but I see it. It’s already too late for him. He’s gone for her. And Mac? She's scared. But she feels it too. I know she does.
I freeze.
The words shimmer on the page, as if they’ve unlocked something in me—like a thread has been pulled loose, unraveling in slow motion.
There’s a flicker behind my eyes. A warmth. A flash of light through rain-smeared glass. The screech of tires on wet pavement.
And Logan.
Smiling.
Kissing me goodbye on the driveway outside of The Rosewood. Guitar case slung over his shoulder. His voice quiet, cracking on the words—
“I love you.”
And then me, too stunned, too scared, too late—
I never—
I jolt, breath catching, eyes wide. My voice echoing in my head.
I never…
I press a hand to my chest, right over the beat of my heart.
I never said it back. I never said it back. I never said it back.
My voice echoes in my head.
The room tilts slightly, not in a dizzying way—just enough to make everything real. That memory… it was mine.
It is mine.
My heart thunders in my chest as the ache in my temples starts again—softer this time, but pulsing in rhythm with something ancient inside me.
Truth.
Memory.
Love.
My fingers grip the journal tighter as the air in the room shifts—charged, like just before a storm.
Then it hits me.
One flicker at a time.
Logan.
Standing in a doorway, sunlight haloing him from behind, a to-go coffee in his hand and a wicked smile on his face. I’m already running—fast, reckless—and he catches me as I throw myself into his arms, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing. I can feel the warmth of his laugh against my cheek.
Gone.
Another flash.
He’s falling out a first floor window, limbs flailing, his expression a mix of panic and absurd determination. I’m above him, laughing so hard my stomach aches.
Gone again.
