Page 20

Skye: You’ll be my chef?

Logan: I’ll be anything you want.

I have no idea how to respond to that. He’ll be anything I want? A picture of a naked Logan served on a platter pops in my mind. My face burns with the image.

I type and delete my answer three times. I know he can see the dots on his side and I have no idea how to respond to him.

Logan: Are you blushing right now?

Skye: No?

Logan: Liar

Skye: Maybe

Logan: I knew it! Back to work. Talk to you soon.

What do I want? I ask myself again, this time not thinking of Logan but myself. I’m not sure. I want to be happy, and I am happy.

I count the blessings in my life every day. I have a loving family, parents who dote on me and support me in anything and everything. A sister who, as crazy as she is, always has my back even if at first glance it doesn’t show. But I want more. I’m just not sure what that more is.No.I’m lying to myself. I do know what I want, but I’m afraid to want it. I’m afraid to say it aloud because then I might jinx it somehow.

I can rationalize it all I want and make plans to venture out of my carefully constructed shell, but I know not everyone can be a leader. Some people are happy to follow and are content in the way they live their lives, but I’m not one of them. I could lie to myself and stick to the shadows, but of late, I’m craving the light. This self-imposed shell feels constrictive. I’m outgrowing it, and I have no idea what to do with myself.

Sometimes, I wish I could be first in something. Leave the first tracks on the road. Guide instead of follow. But the thought terrifies me as much as it draws me in.

Chapter Six

I thought that by now,three days after seeing Skye that morning at Pat’s Cafe, my lust for her would have settled. It hasn’t. I find myself thinking about her more often than I like to admit. And it scares me. I’ve never been one to text girls all the time. But I can’t help it. I think of something and want to ask her about it.

A part of me wants to retreat and call the whole thing off. But the bigger part is excited about this girl. I like her, and I’m not so blind to my own flaws that I can’t see how being into her shakes the walls I’ve built around my heart.

I wish Liam were here and I could talk to him about it. I can’t imagine opening up to anyone else. I can’t talk to him, so I do the only thing I can. I text him. I do this every so often. I don’t expect him to answer. Last time we spoke, Liam said he was going to turn his phone off. Something to do with phone signals being tracked by insurgents and safety. By the time he finally gets his phone back on, he’ll have a book’s worth of texts from me.

Logan: I met a girl.

I don’t expand on that text message. For now, that’s all I’ll allow myself to say. I just need someone to know, even if that someone is stuck somewhere in the Middle East and has no way of replying to me right now. Again, I wish my brother were here with me instead of wherever he is. As proud of Liam as I am, I can’t help the fear in my heart for him.

I can lie to myself and say the images in my head are an exaggeration of the truth, and her lips are not as pink as I remember, her eyes not as blue, her body not as sexy, and her hair not as golden, but the problem with lying to yourself is that in the end, you still know the truth.

It’s funny how I think about her in colors when my entire life has been black and white.

* * *

We’ve been texting backand forth. She has responded to all my texts but has initiated none. I wonder if it's just shyness or if she’s not as interested in me as I am in her. It will be easier to walk away if she’s not into me. The thought of walking away—of her not liking me—triggers a dull ache in my chest. I’m not looking for a serious relationship. Not now, maybe never.

Then, why do I keep thinking about her as if she has a place in my life, in my future?

Only one way to find out.

I have a night shift again, and the clock on the cruiser dash says it’s 1:11 a.m. She must be asleep by now, but I send her a message anyway, not expecting her to see it or respond until morning.

Logan: Sweet dreams.

Skye: Thank you. I would wish you the same, but I guess you’re working.

Logan: What are you doing up this late? You should be sleeping.

Skye: Some guy keeps texting me.