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I hug Grandma and Dad, then climb into the truck with Logan. Only when we’re far enough away that I can’t see the accident any longer do I take a deep breath. “Wow, a lot has happened in the last hour.”

“It sounds like you’ve had a crazy day.”

“Grandma wanted a taste of freedom. She’s been unhappy about the move.” I lean back and close my eyes. “My family has been there every night packing and cleaning. It’s been stressful.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m really sorry. Have I missed anything else? How was your week?”

“It wasn’t the best.”

“Yeah, me neither. Though I did have one interesting conversation a few days ago. Your brother found me in the hall after lunch and threatened to tear me limb from limb if I did anything to hurt you.”

My eyes fly open, and I sit straight up. “He did what?”

“He’s protective, but I can respect it.” Rather than lookingangry or defensive, Logan’s expression is thoughtful. “I promised him I’d make sure you were safe. Hopefully this counts since I can’t exactly control your grandma.”

“Wow. I had no idea. I knew he was worried about me, but that’s next level.”

“I wanted to text you so badly to tell you.” His fingers graze my knee.

I hold my breath, wondering how long he’ll keep his hand there. I don’t want him to move, but every second he’s touching me is a sweet form of torture.

“We’re going to drive by the farm. Do you want to stop for a few minutes? I could finally show you the shed. And, of course, Susie Q misses you too.” His eyes cut to me. “Or is that a really bad choice?”

“Today feels like a good day for bad choices.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

He doesn’t move his hand the entire drive and when he parks at his house, he’s at my side the moment we’re out of the truck, taking my hand. I stare at him in surprise, but he doesn’t explain and I don’t pull away. I can’t. The last two weeks since Grandma’s ER visit have been exhausting and today stole my last fragment of willpower. Logan is next to me, and I’vemissed him,and if he wants to hold my hand, then I won’t stop him.

Logan glances to his right and mutters under his breath. A woman who I assume is his mom walks toward us. Her long blond hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a black puffer vest. She has a steaming mug in each hand.

“You must be Quinn?” she asks with a wide smile.

I pull my hand away from Logan, feeling suddenly self-conscious, and wave to her. “Yes, I’m Quinn. You’re Mrs.Weber?”

“Emily,” she says. “Is everything okay? I was so worried when I heard what happened.”

“Yes, my dad is with Grandma and the police, and the tow truck just arrived so…” I trail off, not sure how to explain why we’re at her house. But she doesn’t question or seem concerned.

“I made you both hot chocolate. I always find a hot drink is comforting when I’m shaken up.”

This isn’t some little cup of brown liquid. Mine is a gigantic ceramic mug in the shape of a sleeping cat, the drink topped with a swirling mountain of whipped cream and a dousing of red sprinkles. I glance at Logan, who gives me an embarrassed half-smile. His mug is a fluffy white sheep. Two seconds in and I alreadyreallylike his mom.

“Thank you so much,” I murmur, and take a small sip. My eyes pop. Whoa, that’s sweet hot chocolate.

“A specialty of mine.” She smiles.

“Thanks, Mom, but, uh, I was just going to show Quinn the shed for a few minutes. She’s never seen inside.”

I glance at the shed, which I still find utterly charming. It also looks very small and very secluded. Probably not the kind of place parents would want two teenagers to hang out alone.

Her expression says the same thing. “The shed, you say?” She gives us an appraising look. “It’ll be cold in there.”

“We won’t be there long. I have to get her back to town.”

She nods. “Okay. Glad you and your grandma are okay.” She retreats into the house and Logan steers me to the shed. He opens the door and ushers me inside.

“Your mom wasn’t wrong,” I say, and take a drink of the hot chocolate. The inside of the shed is just as cold as outside.