Page 57 of Here We Go Again

Logan shoves her finger away. “No I didn’t.”

“You did!” She pushes herself up on her tucked legs so she’s even closer to Logan, and they were already so close.Too close. Their bodies facing each other inside their snug burrito. Hale is two inches away, smelling like vanilla and peppermint and vending machine Cheez-Its. Her pale lashes and her pale cheeks, which have pinkened from the sun. Exactly four freckles have appeared beneath her right eye, and Logan’s close enough that she could trace a route between them.

A route to a destination they can never reach.

“I knew you would slip up eventually!” Hale says smugly.

Logan stops staring at those freckles. “I did not slip up.”

“You did. I have proof.”

“Are you recording this conversation?”

Hale looks self-satisfied as she taps a finger to her temple. “The proof is up here. I know what I heard. Rose-mar-y.” She stretches out the three syllables of her own name like a song. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“Have you been keeping track?”

“Yes.” Hale’s smile shines prettily in the purple dusk. “I’ve missed hearing you say my name.”

Logan swallows. She feels the way she did in Cortez, when thestars looked infinite and her chest felt looser than it had in years.

I’ve missed hearing you say my name. Leave it to Hale to say something so damn earnest.

Hale was always the earnest one when they were kids. While other people’s brains told them to lie out of self-preservation, Hale’s brain didn’t have that protective hardwiring. She usually told the truth, even if it was too honest. So, it makes sense that they’re touching knees and elbows inside a blanket, and Hale says something as ridiculously sweet asI’ve missed hearing you say my name.

Hale probably has no idea how that simple admission makes Logan feel.

Hell, Logan doesn’t know how it makes her feel, except that she feels like her heart is a stupid dandelion puff about to float away in a dozen pieces. And she feels warm (probably from the blanket). And she feels like she’s buzzing (probably from eating candy for dinner). And she feels like… like she could kiss Hale if she wanted to.

She doesn’t want to kiss her, though. Instead, she twists her head so her mouth is directed toward Hale’s left ear, and she says her name again in a quiet voice.Rosemary. She savors each delicious syllable on her tongue, and Hale inhales sharply. They’re so close, and Hale would probably taste like Twix if she kissed her right now.

She thinks, maybe, Hale wants her to.

Hale tilts her head, and all Logan would have to do is lean in a fraction of an inch to take that pretty mouth in hers. One of them is breathing heavily, but Logan can’t tell who. Maybe they’re both breathing heavily, in unison, as Logan leans in and—

“Joe,” Hale says, ducking her head out of what maybe (definitely) would have been a kiss. “We should really go check on Joe.”

Logan yanks her head back, and the blanket loosens around both of their shoulders. Then Hale steps out of the blanket burrito entirely. Her bare skin looks pale and freezing, but she stands there like she can feel nothing at all. “I’m worried he’s going to stubbornly try to sleep in his wheelchair when he realizes he can’t get himself intobed,” she blathers as she picks up their snack wrappers. “Don’t you think we should go?”

“Totally.” Logan clears her throat. “You’re totally right. Let’s go check on Joe.”

A twinge of hurt tugs on her rib cage, but she shakes it off. She’s not hurt. She’sgrateful.

Kissing Rosemary Hale would be the worst impulsive decision she’s ever made twice.

Santa Fe, New Mexico to Oklahoma City, OklahomaChapter Seventeen

LOGAN

Joe looks like death.

When Logan goes into his hotel room a little before seven in the morning, she finds him wide awake, lying completely still in the dark with his arms folded across his chest like a vampire in his coffin. She clicks on the light.

In the four years since his cancer diagnosis, this is the worst he’s ever looked. Seeing him there in corpse-pose sends a spike of dread straight to her gut. He’s dying, a voice intones in the back of her mind. This time, he’s really dying.

She shakes off the voice and the dread. “You dead?” she asks flippantly.

“Only emotionally,” Joe croaks.