Not able to contain myself, I flip to the next photo. I smile remembering this one. We were walking alone, side-by-side, and I had the urge to take a photo of the long, empty trail ahead of us. Trees, plants, branches, and leaves surround the pathway. You can’t see the end, but even though it’s leading to the unknown, it’s still very welcoming, inviting. Like there’s a captivating journey just waiting for you to follow it. I remember how when we pulled into that parking lot, I wanted nothing more than to run away from that place. Looking at these pictures now, I can’t believe I ever felt that way.
I continue to flip through the pages, amazed by it all.
He managed to take the photos I took and brighten them, transform them into something more. He made them come alive. I feel like I could literally reach in and pluck a blueberry off of a bush. My heart expands in awe and gratitude as I take my time with each photo.
When I reach the very last picture, my breath catches in my chest. It’s an image of the mother and daughter we ran into. They’re walking away, and the focal point is their hands holding one another. A tiny dimpled hand nestles with its protective keeper. Everything around them blurs except for the hold the mother has on her daughter. This image speaks so much more to me than anyone will ever understand. It’s something I’ve wished for, for so long—the relationship a mother and daughter should have. The one I will never have.
My eyes water. Sniffing back the tears, I close the album and look up at him. “You did this for me?”
“I didn’t do a thing. You did.”
“Logan, I’m—I don’t know what to say. This is a beautiful gift. It’s…” I wrap my arms around the album, bringing it to my chest and hugging it tightly. “It’s something I will always cherish.”
He bends at the knees, meeting me eye to eye. “I just wanted to show you that you’re capable of doing what you love. It may not be with a paintbrush, but you captured something and created art, regardless.”
I quickly pay the cab, climb out, and shut the door behind me. Unable to properly survey my surroundings, I dart for the apartment complex, clinging to the bag in my hand. It’s too dark out, and even though the streets are quiet at this time of night, you can never be too careful. After entering the building, I climb the steps to the third floor and knock on apartment C-10.
I knock again and again and louder again until I’m banging on the heavy wooden surface, my knuckles reddening. “What the fuck?” He sneers. “I’m coming. I’m fucking coming,” I hear distantly. A deadbolt unlocks, and the knob screeches as it turns before the door opens.
His sluggish blue eyes scrunch then widen when he recognizes it’s me. “Jersey Girl? What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Logan opens the door, allowing me in. “So you came all the way down here at two in the morning?”
I nod, walking past him and straight into his living area.
He shuts the door, locking up. “How’d you get here?” Logan asks with a yawn, walking my way.
“Taxi.”
He shakes his head. “You need to learn how to drive.”
“Will you teach me?” I ask nervously.
A soft chuckle rumbles in his throat. “Yes, one day. But for now can we sleep?” He reaches for my arm and drags me to his room.
“I’ve never been in here before.” I look around, taking in his very plain bedroom. There’s only a stream of streetlight shining through the blinds, so I can’t make out much. The only thing I can see clearly is his grey comforter.
“You are wide awake.” He yawns again, climbing into bed. He stretches on his back and waves me over. I place my duffle bag on the floor by the bed, then nestle and relax beside him. Logan snakes an arm around my shoulder, my head leaning against his chest. I wrap my leg over his and shut my eyes. This feels good. Peaceful. In his arms, just being held by him is where I always want to be.
I wake up to his touch, his hand softly stroking up and down my arm, his lips sliding along my hairline. I smile, inhale his natural scent, and exhale. My lashes flutter, struggling to open. “Morning,” he whispers.
“Mmm,” I moan.
Chuckling, he kisses my forehead. “I have to get ready for work. Do you want to stay here?”
I nod into his chest.
“Okay. I’ll pick you up after my shift. Are we still going to the lake house or do you want to hang out here?”
Shrugging, I keep my eyes shut, too tired to pry them open. “Whatever you want.”
His lips trace down, leaving a peck on my nose. “All right. We’ll go to the lake house.” His mouth leads back to my forehead where he leaves another caress. “We’ll stay the night.” I can sense him dip low before his lips touch my chin. “Then we’ll drive back Saturday to make it in time for dinner with your parents.”
I smile, nodding and agreeing with the entire plan. “Now get some rest,” he whispers. Leaving my side, he steps out of bed. As much as I’d prefer that he stay, I still feel like he’s here. With his scent lingering, I breathe in the comfort and drift back into a peaceful sleep.
chapter 23
Logan
“How was work?” Jenna asks, climbing into my truck. She places her duffle bag on her lap, buckles the seatbelt, then leans over and kisses me. “What’s the smile for?”
I nudge my head toward her lap. “What’s in the duffle bag? Carrying deadly weapons or something?”
“Ha. Ha. Funny,” she mocks. “No, I have my weekend stuff. It’s better than dragging around my suitcase.” She shrugs. “And I may have something for you in here.”
“Lingerie?” I grin, wiggling my brows.
“I didn’t know you were into wearing that kind of stuff. If I’d known, I would’ve purchased you a blue, skimpy lace number to bring out your eyes.”
“All right, smartass.”
She laughs. “You set yourself up for that one.”
“This is true.” I pull out of the parking lot and begin our drive to the lake house.
“It’s nothing big, just a little something you can use in the future,” she says as she unzips the black bag and starts rummaging through it. I reach a red traffic light and look over. Jenna hands me a clear plastic bag. I quickly peek in. Arching a brow, I meet her smile. “Gift bags and wrapping paper?”
She nods.
“You got me yellow gift bags and wrapping paper,” I clarify.
She nods again.
“Well, aren’t you the major wiseass.”
Her laugh bounces around my truck. “Well, it does benefit me.”
I steer with one hand, my other finds its way to hers. I bring our entwined fingers to my mouth and graze her soft knuckles against my lips. “Why yellow?” I mumble against her skin, my eyes on the road.
“It’s my favorite color.”
“Is that so?” I ask.
“Yep. It’s bright and pretty and cheerful.” She sighs. “It reminds me of the sun.” Jersey Girl pauses. Squeezing her hand around mine, she whispers, “I spent most of my life in the dark. Yellow allows me to visualize the light. Even if it’s just an image I paint in my head and not reality, I’ll take it.”
I press my lips firmly against her hand. Jersey Girl will probably never know this, but yellow will now and forever be my favorite color too—because I want her to be happy. I want her to be surrounded with brightness in her life. I want her to fight through the darkness and find her light someday.
Jenna
We’re walking hand-in-hand into the lake house when a chorus of applause goes off. I tear my eyes away from Logan and see Santino, Charlie, Bryson, and Blair are all in the living area. Everyone, except for Blair, is smiling and clapping. “It’s about damn time!” Santino hoots.