I tried desperately not to think about what and who I was leaving behind when I checked out of my hotel. 

I grabbed my clothes from the bed and shoved them into my duffle bag. I hated this part. It was the part when one, or both, of us had to made the sacrifice of not seeing the other. At least we didn't fight this time. There were a few times that ended with harsh words, slammed doors, and regrets. But not this time.  

Last night at Jack's Bar wasn't that much of a surprise. The instant Logan left my hotel, and I saw that fucking leather jacket on the chair, I knew it. I knew he was saying goodbye. Either that, or he was going to have to—and he did. I had no idea what his dad said to him this time, but it seemed to do the trick. He was pushing me away. Again.

I guess I couldn't really blame the guy. I mean, he was engaged to be fucking married and I had a girlfriend at home. Well, I might have a girlfriend at home. I haven't spoken to her in almost two days, which wasn't a good sign.

I knew I couldn't lie to her when I got back. I needed to talk to her about what I did and see where we stood. She's never done anything to deserve this, and I owed her the truth. As much of the truth as a I could give her.

When I walked into the bathroom to collect the rest of my essentials, I couldn't help but wonder what Logan was doing right now. I knew they were having a party—but was he drinking and having a good time? Was he kissing his fiance? Or was his dad giving him another one of his talks?

Was he thinking me? Or us? I had no idea. More importantly, I didn't have a right to know. Suddenly I remembered the night we spent together at his place. The one that didn't end well.

I stood in Logan's living room, trying not to look at the pictures of him and Rachel hanging on the walls.

"So, why did you invite me over?"

Logan chucked from the kitchen. "To hang out. Its been awhile."

Yeah, it has been. The last time we hung out was when we slept together for the first time. We barely spoke after that. Until tonight.

When Logan came from the kitchen carrying two beers, I watched him curiously. I couldn't help but wonder what had him reaching out to me tonight.

Then his eyes met mine when he stopped in front of me—and I knew. I knew what he wanted. And it pissed me off.

“So,” I snapped, “did you just bring me here to fuck me?”

Logan leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. “Would you leave if I said yes?"

I should. I should leave right fucking now. I should grab my keys, get in my car, and get the fuck out of here.

But I knew that wasn't happening. That's why I was so pissed off—because even though I knew what I should do, common sense seemed to be non-existent where Logan was concerned.

“No,” I whispered, unable to deny him. “I wouldn’t.” 

After it happened that night, I woke up next to Logan and I panicked. I panicked and I said a lot of things I didn't mean. Like the fact that I only—

Ring—ring

I frowned at the unknown number on my phone. I pushed the green button and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hi," a female voice said into the receiver. "Is this Grant?"

I ran my hand through my hair. Who the hell was this? "Yes. Can I help you?"

"This is Lynette, Logan's mom."

My eyes went wide. Logan's mom...was on my phone. She called me. Why? "Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn't recognize your voice."

I only met the woman a few times and that was a long time ago. Fuck. Should I hang up? What if something was wrong?

A thousand different scenarios went through my head. Most involved Logan getting into some kind of accident and ending up in the hospital. Then I rolled my eyes at myself. If that was the case, she wouldn't sound so cheery. Wow, Grant. Calm the fuck down.

I cleared my throat and sat on the edge of my bed. "Is everything okay?"

She laughed lightly on the other end of the line. "Logan mentioned you were in town and we're having a bonfire party tonight. You should really come by. It's been so long since we've seen you and I know Logan can use a friend here."

"Oh, uh, I don't know if—I was going to head back to the city today."

I was dying to see him. But he didn't invite me. He asked me to leave. He said he needed time and I was trying to give that to him. Even though it was fucking killing me.

"Well, I know he would appreciate it if you stopped by. It's on the way to the city, too. You can just stop on your way out to say hi and get some food."

I glanced at Logan's jacket. "Yeah, okay. I'll try to pass through. Thank you for calling, Mrs. Thorne."

"Honey, please call me Lynette. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

When the call ended, I sat on my bed in a daze. When did he mention that I was in town to his mom? It must have been by accident. He was so worried about someone finding out about us, that I doubted he intended to tell her. That also meant that if I did show up there, it could make things worse.

I got up from the bed and walked over to the chair that his jacket was draped over. I reached for it and pressed it to my nose. My eyes slid shut as I inhaled the rich scent of the leather mixed with Logan's cologne.

Who was I fucking kidding? Of course I was going to stop by. Any chance to see him one last time.

I turned onto the long driveway that led to the very large house. Oh, yeah. This was definitely the place. I always knew Logan's family had money, but damn.

My eyes went from one car to the next, looking for—there it is. My heart started racing when I saw Logan's SUV. I had a strong feeling that he didn't know his mother invited me. That's why I waited to text him until I was close. I knew he would have told me not to come—but I wanted to see him. One more time.

I parked my car behind a silver Volvo and I saw him come running from the house. He looked over his shoulder multiple times, making sure no one saw him. I didn't blame him.

I stepped out of my car and Logan closed the distance between us.

"Why are you here?" he asked in an angry whisper.

My hands were splayed out in front of me. "Your mother invited me, Logan. I told you that."

Something snapped inside him. I could tell. I didn't know if it was because his family was just inside, or if it was something else.

"I don't care," he hissed. "I told you, this can't keep happening. I—I need to figure some stuff out."

This motherfucker. I scoffed at him. "You don't think I got my own problems to deal with? You aren't the only one who has to answer to someone else."

It came out harsh, but it was true. He had his own marriage stuff to deal with, but I still had Vanessa. We've barely talked over the past few days and I had a sneaky feeling she suspected something was going on.

I let out a heavy sigh as I looked at Logan. "You are the one who told me to come up here, Logan. You are the one who reached out and asked to meet up with me."

He knew what I meant. I knew he didn't ask me outright to come, but that was because I knew he wanted me to but was nervous to ask.

He ran his hands over his face. "I know. I know I did. But still, we—"

"Can't keep doing this," I finished for him. "Yeah, I got it."

"I need to get back to the party," he said softly.

"I know. But Logan?"

"Yeah?"

I knew it was probably going to bite me in the ass, but I reached out and pulled Logan's lips to mine. I was expecting him to pull away in a panic. We would have easily been stumbled upon by any of the guests—including his father.

When we finally pulled apart, he looked me in the eye. "I'll call you later, Grant."

No, you won't, I wanted to say back. Instead, I got in my car, reversed, and didn't look in the rearview mirror as I left. I knew he was watching, and if I saw him in the mirror, I was going to stop and turn around. But that wasn't what he wanted. Or what he needed. What he needed was for me to leave.

So that's what I did.