Page 44 of Here We Go Again

“You gave me nausea from heat exhaustion?”

“I drove us to Arizona in June.”

Hale takes another long drink. “Despite… all of this—” She gives another half-hearted flourish. “I don’t regret coming here.”

Logan stretches her legs out in front of her so her feet almost reach Hale’s bare calves. “Wow. Your GI tract for the Grand Canyon.”

Hale clicks her tongue in annoyance, but there’s more life in her eyes now.

“Still. I’m sorry you got sick.”

The bathroom goes quiet except for the hum of the fan. Hale is staring at her, motionless.

“What?”

“I-I don’t think you have ever apologized to me before.”

Logan snorts. “What would I need to apologize for?”

Even as she says it, she sees the long list of crimes against Rosemary Hale scroll through her mind. Those years in high school when she hurt Hale any chance she got, because it was easier than admitting how much she was hurting. Pranks on travel tournaments for Speech and Debate. The Fun-Noodle Incident that one summer they both took jobs as counselors at the same camp, before Logan drove Hale out of town for ten years.

And everything that’s happened since she came back to Vista Summit: rude emails and tense department meetings and almostpunching her in the face last winter when Joe convinced both of them to volunteer as Christmas elves at Evergreen Pines.

Rear-ending Hale’s car.

Pushing her away because that is better than letting herself get close again.

Logan sighs. “I’m actually sorry for a lot of things,” she confesses. Hale’s expression softens and Logan holds up a preemptive finger. “Not forallthe things. Some of them you deserved, but…”

Hale glances down at the half-empty plastic bottle in her hands and says nothing. Notthank you. NotI’m sorry for the mean things I did tooorI’m sorry I kissed you and then pretended like it never happened when we were fourteen.

Finally, Hale opens her mouth. “Thank you for the… the Vitaminwater. I think it’s helping.”

Logan shakes off the disappointment. “Are you ready to try some saltines?”

Hale accepts the sleeve of crackers and nibbles at a single saltine like an adorably obnoxious squirrel.

“I do, you know,” Hale says after she’s gummed her way through three crackers. “Remember all the choreography.”

Logan can’t help but smile. “I know you, Hale.”

Another saltine. Then: “Why do you hate me so much?” Hale asks in a small voice.

“Do you really want to go there?” Logan asks, sounding more tired than anything else. “Do you honestly want to rehash what happened at that pool party?”

Hale shakes her head. “I’m not asking why you hated me when we were fourteen. I’m asking why you hate me now.”

A sarcastic answer gathers on her tongue, but for once, she holds it back. “Because—because you’re so damn perfect.”

Hale truly laughs then. “Perfect? You spend every minute of every day pointing out my flaws.”

Logan adjusts herself against the wall. “That’s because I’minsecure. Duh. You’re so put together all the time, with your pantyhose and your heels and your tight skirts. Most of my clothes have bleach stains because I’m a thirty-two-year-old who doesn’t know how to do her own laundry!”

Hale sits across the bathroom completely motionless, but Logan forces herself to keep going. Hale has been honest and earnest with her. She owes her this. “And you’re so freaking brilliant, and your brain is like a flawlessly organized bullet journal, and you can justdoexecutive functioning like a proper adult. Everything about you reminds me that I’m a total mess.”

The fan hums in the tense silence that spreads between them until Hale finally speaks. “You’re not a mess,” she says quietly. “And I’m not all that put together. Hence the vomit.” Hale flourishes again. “And you’re not the only neurodivergent person in this bathroom. I also have ADHD, not that you’ve ever cared to notice.”

Logan opens her mouth to argue, but she censors that impulse, too. She was wrong about Hale being straight. She’s been wrong about a lot of things. “You have ADHD?”