Logan picks up a handful of peanuts and tosses them into his mouth. “To keep herself from getting hurt again.” He pauses his chewing and meets my gaze. Now he’s a chipmunk—frozen with wide eyes and cheeks stuffed with nuts. “Oh shit. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”
Hmm. Now that’s something. And exactly what I’ve suspected. For a while now, I’ve been suspicious that there is some sort of “no talking about June” policy in place, but I could never be completely certain. Logan just confirmed it, though.
Lucky for me, he’s the easiest walnut to crack.
“Shouldn’t have said what?” I run my finger across the condensation on my beer glass. I’m relaxed. Nonchalant. No big deal.
Logan swallows his massive bite. “Nothing. Forget it.”
I swing my casual gaze to Logan’s face and let it rest there. My smirk is easy-breezy as I lay my arm down on the bar, getting comfortable.
Logan’s shoulders sink. “Come on. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me tell you this secret.”
I shrug. “No one’s making you tell them anything. I’m just enjoying a beer with a friend…a friend who looks like he’s got a lot on his chest.”
Poor Logan. He’s pressing his lips together because he’s an unopened soda bottle, and I’m shaking him up. Most men have to wrestle with their friends for an hour before they can get the truth out of them. I just stare at Logan, and he crumbles like a cookie, because he hates keeping things from me. I’m surprised he’s been able to harbor this secret all these years.
But tonight, I’ll get it out of him.
We enter a staring contest for two minutes. By the two-minute-and-ten-second mark, a bead of sweat drips down Logan’s forehead, and I know he’s moments away from spilling every secret he’s ever had.
“She was engaged five years ago!” Logan blurts and then immediately slumps over like he’s just dropped a fifty-pound weight.
I, on the other hand, have been punched in the gut. Engaged. I had no idea. I mean, it makes sense. She’s thirty, incredible, and gorgeous.
But for some reason, I’m still surprised. “Engaged? What happened?” I ask, but Logan looks torn again. “Oh, come on. We both know you’re going to tell me, anyway. Just spill it.”
“Fine. But if Stacy asks, you were holding me in a headlock, and I had no choice.”
I roll my eyes and nod my agreement, but Logan holds out his elbow. He looks as serious about sealing this promise with our secret oath as he did when we were six and first established it. I look around, making sure no one is watching, and then tap my elbow against his. There. It’s done. He now has the right to give me a swirly if I break our agreement.
“None of us really know,” he begins. “One day, Ben was June’s world, and the next, she was sending out a group text the week of the ceremony that said Wedding is off. It didn’t work out. She claimed she felt suffocated in the relationship and that she’d lost touch with herself. But Stacy thinks it was just a cover for something that June didn’t want to talk about. She’s always been a pretty private person, so it makes sense.”
I grip my empty glass, and I think it cracks a little. I’m not totally sure why I’m having this reaction. Maybe because, like Stacy, I think there’s more to the story? I remember the tremble in June’s voice earlier this evening, and my mind starts working through possible scenarios of why June would have called off her wedding. “She ended it the week of the ceremony?”
Logan nods. “Yep. Strangest thing.”
I make a huh noise and focus my attention on the liquor bottles behind the bar, processing one uncomfortable realization after another. She almost married someone else. I could have lost my chance with her forever. I should have come back sooner.
After a few quiet moments, I tap the wooden bar five times with my middle finger—each tap further solidifying the decision I’m making.
Logan’s chuckle has me turning my head to look at him. He’s smiling and shaking his head at me like he thinks I’m a complete sucker—a man about to buy a knockoff Rolex from a street vendor, thinking it’s the real thing. “You’re going after that second date, aren’t you?”
I smirk. “I do love a challenge.”
“Especially when it concerns June.”
I pull a twenty out of my pocket and throw it on the bar to close out our tab. “Especially then.”
As I walk to my car, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. It’s late, so I really don’t even need to look at the caller ID to know who it is. Still, I register the name Noah flashing across my screen and then ignore the call.
Chapter 9 June
“June, open up!”
I shoot up from my pillow and briefly wonder if that gas station attendant found out about the candy bar I stole when I was eleven and is coming to perform a citizen’s arrest.
“No! I’m too tired to go to jail right now,” I yell back.
He’s a no-nonsense kind of guy, though, because he bangs on the door again. “Come on, open up.”
When I finally shake off the last remnants of sleep and remember that it’s been nineteen years since I stole that Snickers, I pick up my phone and scowl at it. Is the entire world against me getting my beauty sleep?
“It’s six-thirty in the morning. It’s too early to deal with you. Go away!” I lie back down and pull the covers up to my chin, making a warm cocoon.
I think I got rid of him, because everything is blissfully quiet. One of our employees is opening the shop today, so I don’t have to get ready until 10:30. I plan on squeezing every bit of sleep out of this morning that I can.
I nuzzle my head back into my fluffy pillow. Good, pillow. I love you, pillow.
“Morning, Sunshine.”
“AH!” I scream and yank the covers all the way up over my head.
There is a man in my house. A MAN IN MY HOUSE!
And then I hear a familiar chuckle, and it makes my stomach squeeze. No, no, no.
“How did you get in here?!” I screech from under my blanket tent.
I hear footsteps in my room. How dare he come in here!
“I used the key under your unicorn gnome. Stacy told me where to find it when I couldn’t get you to answer your phone.”
Yeah, I have a unicorn gnome. And although I tell everyone I bought it because my twelve-year-old niece begged me to, I actually just bought it because I thought it was adorable and wanted to look at it every day. One perk of not being married: I can put unicorns wherever I want them.
“Well, put it back and go away! You’re not allowed in my house.”
“I’ve already been in your house, remember? When you told me you want me to kiss you.”
“No. I told you I wished you had kissed me in high school. Big difference, buddy!”
“Why are you calling me buddy?”
“Because I don’t like you. It’s dramatic emphasis.”
