Page 10 of If You're Reading This

Then he knew hehadto follow up. Morgan might not want to hear from him. But he needed to do his weekly check-in to make sure she was okay.

Did she even have any idea what kind of danger she was in? Did she realize that the Iron Brotherhood had vowed to take down anyone who’d sold them out?

Probably not. Logan had only told her part of what had happened. He didn’t think she could handle the entire truth. Besides, she hadn’t stuck around long after the kiss for him to explain.

She’d stormed inside the lodge and had gone straight to the bathroom. Andi had followed after her.

Then several minutes later, Morgan was gone.

She’d told Andi to apologize to everyone for her sudden exit. Said that she wasn’t feeling well and needed to get home.

He could only assume Morgan didn’t want people to see her distress.

Thankfully, the award reception had almost been over anyway. But still . . .

Logan eased his SUV into the gravel lot of the Sourdough Roadhouse, the tires crunching over patches of lingering dirty snow that refused to surrender to April’s hesitant thaw. The fading twilight—lasting noticeably longer now than during winter’s grip—cast long purple shadows across the weathered log exterior of the restaurant.

As he killed the engine and opened his door, the muffled thrum of conversation and clinking silverware drifted through the windows, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

When he stepped from his vehicle, the late afternoon air bit at his exposed skin with surprising sharpness—typical Alaskan spring, promising warmth by day but delivering a frigid reminder of winter’s reluctance to leave once the sun began its slow descent.

The tantalizing aroma of house-smoked salmon and fresh-baked sourdough bread wafted from the kitchen vent, mingling with the clean scent of melting snow and spruce sap.

On the distant horizon, the alpenglow painted the snow-capped peaks in shades of amber and rose. The sight always reminded him of Morgan’s photographs.

Logan tugged his jacket tighter against the chill and headed for the welcoming glow of the roadhouse’s windows. The weight of his current investigation into a chain of car thefts was momentarily lightened by the simple promise of a hot meal.

But, first, he had a phone call to make.

He didn’t want to hear the hurt in Morgan’s voice. Or to think she might hate him now.

It had been difficult keeping the truth from her all these years. Now the truth was out in the open. Now they could each deal with the cruel reality of Bobby’s death.

Still, his heart felt bittersweet as he realized the very thing he’d always dreamed about would never happen.

He and Morgan could never be together. The fact hurt even more considering that he’d secretly been in love with her, even before they ever met in person.

Making matters worse was the fact that now, after his kiss with Morgan, he had a taste of what life with her might have been like.

Glorious.

With a sigh, he decided to stop delaying and dialed her number.

His call went straight to voicemail.

He frowned.

Of course. Morgan was avoiding him.

He tried again.

This time, he left a message. “Morgan, it’s me. We need to talk. I know you probably don’t like me very much right now. Butat least let me know you’re okay. Give me some proof of life here. Call me.” He paused before adding, “Please.”

He stood outside, waiting for his phone to ring. For Morgan to stop being so stubborn and call him back.

There was nothing.

He drew in a deep breath. He didn’t want to overreact. But his thoughts spun out of control.