The day of the show dragged interminably for Olivia. She tried going through her emails, focusing on what work she could do remotely, but the words kept blurring in front of her eyes, the lack of sleep in recent days taking its toll. Finally, she shut the laptop and escaped the confines of her room, walking up and down the narrow streets of Inverness. She glanced in shop windows here and there, though nothing really held her attention, walked far enough to discover Inverness castle perched on a short hill above the River Ness. The day was again cloudy, and the castle looked gloomy and imposing, its eight-sided tower rising above the other buildings. Olivia shivered in her new sweater and headed back to the hotel.

That night, she took a taxi to the Ironworks, not trusting her ability to find it on foot, even though the man behind the bar had assured her that it was short, easy walk. The look of the building surprised her. It was low and whitewashed, as so many of Inverness’ buildings seemed to be. But it was much smaller than any concert venue she’d ever been to.

Once inside, however, she found that it was larger than it appeared, though still somehow managing to be cozy and welcoming. Quite an unusual venue for a rock concert.

A gigantic stone hearth at one end of the room held a huge, roaring fire, its warmth wiping away the chill of the night. A simple stage was at the other end of the narrow room, raised slightly above the main floor. It as an intimate arrangement and placed the audience very close to the performers. There were no huge amps, no heavy sound equipment on the stage, and it occurred to Olivia that this must be an acoustic performance.

Her heart was racing as she made her way to the front of the seating area. There were small tables scattered around the room, and she sat with a group of people who happily shifted their chairs to include her at the one they’d claimed.

When the lights in the house went down and the stage lights came up, Olivia momentarily forgot to breathe. The drummer came out, settling himself behind his kit. The other two men picked up their guitars, strumming a few chords, talking quietly. There was a moment of silence that stretched on for too long, just the three of them on stage, and Olivia wondered if Logan was actually going to perform with the group. The thought suddenly struck her that the band might have split up over the suit, that Logan might not even be here at all. As the crowd around her started to murmur, a wave of anxiety broke over her.

Then Logan walked on stage, and Olivia’s heart almost stopped, her breath catching in her throat. Even in this small space, he exuded charm and charisma, totally captivating the crowd without saying a word, with just a smile.

But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something missing—a vital spark she’d come to know, and love, was gone. He looked the same: tall, handsome, muscles moving smoothly under his skin when he shifted his weight. A rock star in every sense of the word. But it wasn’t Logan, not the one she had fallen for. He was playing a part he didn’t feel. Her heart ached for him, for the missing joy she wanted to see in his face.

He’d pulled a tall stool to the center of the stage and he perched on it, looking over the crowd for a moment. His eyes skimmed the table where she sat, but there was no change in his expression. Either he didn’t see her, or—her heart sank at the thought—he had seen her. Slowly raising the microphone, he spoke.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight. We’re here because this is where we started and we need to remember that. This is our home. Change may happen, love may come and then be lost, but home is where they’ll always welcome you back. And so, we’re here.”

The crowd erupted in applause and loud cheers, but Olivia sat without moving, numb and silent. His words pierced her, made her want more than anything to bolt from her chair and climb on stage, let him know that she hadn’t left him, hadn’t ever meant for him to be heart. But she forced herself to remain as the crowd finally settled down around her.

Logan stood, setting the stool aside. The band picked up, and he began to sing. Olivia quickly found herself lost in the music. She’d only heard a few of their songs on the radio, with professional arrangements and production effects, and everything else that came with a studio recording.

But here it was just him and his band. Four guys making music. Logan’s voice was so pure, the melodies simple and direct, every note exactly what was needed and nothing more. It was the essence of each song, and Olivia was entranced.

Finally, Logan pulled the stool back to center stage, settling himself on it. The drummer and bass guitar player quietly left the stage, leaving only the other man, who picked up a battered acoustic guitar and stool, sitting behind Logan.

Olivia watched, mesmerized, as the stage lights dimmed, leaving Logan in a soft circle of illumination. He cleared his throat, taking a drink from a bottle of water, and looked out over the crowd.

“I want to thank all of you for supporting us,” he said, the soft words carried through the room by the mic’s amplification. “It means a great deal. The last song we’re going to perform is one I wrote a long time ago, in the wee hours of the morning, back when we were playing in pubs for pints. Some of you may know it.” His lips turned up for a moment in a smile that was more genuine than the earlier one had been. “I know the words now, so I’m not needing to read them from a paper stuck to the stage floor.”

There was a ripple of laughter in the crowd, and Olivia saw more than one person nodding their heads.

“For all of who’ve been with us from the start, this is for you.”

The song was in Gaelic, and Olivia didn’t understand any of the words, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need to. Watching Logan’s face, she could feel the love and the longing in it. The crowd joined in, softly at first, then louder, and at the end Logan stood, holding out the microphone to the audience, encouraging them to finish the song. The light caught in a glint in his eyes that she thought looked like tears.

As the song finished and applause rose up around them, Olivia turned to the man sitting beside her.

“What was that song?” she shouted over the noise of the crowd.

He leaned over, his lips next to her ear. “It’s about home. About when you’ve strayed and lost your way, you can always come home. Logan wrote it after a bad stretch on the road a few years back, when they were broke and ready to give it up all up. It was the song that made them famous. Ironic, though, that a song about home is the one that took them away from it.”

The house lights came up and the crowd milled about, chatting, moving to the other end of the room. Logan was talking with the guitar player at the back of the stage, a few other people gathered around them. For a moment, Olivia was almost afraid to approach the stage. She took a few hesitant steps, trying not to lose him in the crowd. But then Logan turned, looking directly at her.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. For a long, uncomfortable minute he watched her, and then for a heart-stopping second, she thought he was going to leave, but he only turned to someone and said something she couldn’t hear, then walked to the edge of the stage.

“Olivia.” He looked down at her, his eyes dark and solemn. “It is you.”

She finally found her voice. “Logan. I- I’m here for you. To talk to you. Can we just... talk? Please?”

Logan regarded her a moment longer. He extended a hand. She grasped it, and he helped her step up onto the stage. The touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his hand, almost took her breath away.

Then he dropped her hand and turned away. “Come on. We’ve got some rooms in the back. We can talk there.” He walked across the stage, through a door at the rear. Olivia followed, her heart in her throat.

He led her down a short hall to a small room with a few chairs and a little wooden table. There was a battered couch against one wall and Logan sat down, long legs stretched out in front of him. She closed the door softly and crossed the room to take a seat on the other end of the couch. Clenching her hands in her lap, she resisted the urge to bite her nails, suddenly unsure of what to say, where to start.

“Logan.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.”

Logan sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch, his eyes closed. “You might as well, if you’ve come this far. Say what you need to say.”

“What you saw with Ryan wasn’t you think. I know it looked bad, but...”

“I saw you in the arms of another man. Someone who seemed very familiar with you. Someone you seemed very familiar with.” He opened his eyes, turning his head to look at her. The pain in his expression made her want to reach out to him, to touch him, but the gulf between them was too great. And if he shied away from her touch, it would break her heart.

“You’re having an affair with your boss.” His voice was flat, emotionless. Cold.

“No. I’m not. I wasn’t. What you saw was...” Olivia looked down at her hands. How was she going to explain to him what had happened? How Ryan had manipulated her? She remembered thinking that he would put a fist in Ryan’s face if he found out, and she still wasn’t sure that thought had been wrong. But it was tell him or lose him. She sighed.

“Ryan’s been doing this. Setting this all up.” She raised her head to meet his gaze. “I’m not having an affair with him. I swear to you. But Ryan’s been making it seem like I am.”

“So all the times you hung up on me after I heard Ryan’s voice in the background, that wasn’t you trying to keep me from knowing about him? Or the times you were late because of work? They were really just work? Not because you were staying to be with him?”

“All those times I hung up were to keep Ryan from knowing about you.” Olivia’s hands twisted together in her lap. “I told you what it could cost me, if someone found out. And Ryan... He was already acting so strange around you. And trying to push me into something with him. I didn’t know how he’d react.”

Logan sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Olivia, I’d like to believe you. I would. It would be so much easier if I could. But it tears my heart to think you were with someone else and didn’t have the courage to tell me. I can’t go through that again. So please, just be honest.”

Olivia felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh, Logan. No. It’s not like that. Ryan set it up—set us up—to make it look to you like I was having an affair with him so that you would walk away. He’s been making passes at me. Touching me at the office.” Her voice caught. “None of it was anything I wanted. I swear.”

She took a slow, shuddering breath, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. “He’s been strange since Patrick. Since my engagement ended. But it got more...intense, I guess, since you. Since he’s suspected that we were together. I think- I think he thought that once Patrick was out of the picture, I’d fall into his arms and when I found you instead he got desperate.”

Logan was watching her closely. The pain in his eyes was gradually becoming something harder. Dangerous. But it wasn’t directed at her. When she leaned forward and reached for his hand, he let her hold it.

“He had a photo of us. From that first night I slept with you. It came in a package of other pictures. Ones of you with other women.”

Logan scowled. “Ashton. I thought someone was following me. More than just the paparazzi.” He shook his head. “That man will go to any lengths. He’s ruined so many things in my life.”

“And so will Ryan.” Olivia held more tightly to Logan’s hand. “Ashton’s out to ruin you, and Ryan’s out to...either have me or ruin me, I think, whichever comes first. He’s threatened my career if I don’t-” She swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in her throat. “If I don’t go along with what he wants. He’s told me I’ll never make partner if I don’t...”

“If you don’t give in,” Logan said.

Olivia nodded. “If I don’t give in.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Logan was leaning forward, his expression pained again. Aching. “Why didn’t you let me help you?”

Olivia slid across the couch and Logan pulled her close, wrapping her in the strong safety of his arms. The tears she’d been holding back spilled down her cheeks as she rested her head on his shoulder. She’d missed the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of him. They were comforting, but she was still uneasy, unsure as to what he really thought.

“I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything. I’ve been so-” She swallowed back a sob. “I thought about it, but I didn’t know how. We were so new. I was afraid you’d think the worst of me. Or not believe me at all. Or... I don’t know. Ryan has me so twisted around and confused, and... So scared. And to be honest, I was a little worried you’d march in and deck him if you found out.”

She tried to put a smile into the words, through the tears still sliding down her face. It was only a partial success. Logan’s arms around her tightened.

“Aye. And more than that, too, if I let myself have free reign. But...” His tone became solemn. “You should have trusted me, Olivia. I would have listened to you then just the way I’m listening now.”

She gave in to the tears, beyond words. Logan held her and let her cry, stroking her hair as she soaked his shoulder. Finally, she sat up, still in the circle of his arms.

“I’m so sorry. For all of this.” She ran her fingers down his cheek, her eyes searching his. It surprised her to find them red-rimmed, as though she hadn’t been the only one crying.

He saw her looking and brushed the last of her tears from her face with the back of one knuckle. “Can I not hurt for your pain, mo chridhe?”

Patrick wouldn’t have. The thought surprised her. It had been so long since she thought about her ex-fiancé.

“I love you so much, Logan.” The words came out rough. “I wanted to tell you. But you were gone. I thought I’d lost you forever.” Tears pricked at her eyes again.

“Aye,” Logan said. “I ran away. It was wrong, me being a coward. But it tore my heart out to see you there with him. I wanted to do so many things: pull you away, knock his teeth out, demand an explanation. But I ran, like I’ve run before.” He shook his head.

A knock on the door interrupted Olivia’s answer. Made her jump. Logan looked up as a tall, red-haired man came into the room. Olivia recognized him as the drummer from Revival.

“Logan. We’re heading out. I...wanted to say good luck. Before we left.”

Gently, Logan untangled himself from Olivia, and stood to pull the man to him in a warm embrace. “I’ll miss you, Angus. I’m not sure what I’ll do without you all around.”

“Aye, well. This is for the best. At least for now.” Angus clapped Logan on the back and stepped away. “Take care, mate. I’ll be in touch.”

The man nodded to Olivia and slipped out of the room. Logan stood for a moment, looking at the empty doorway before turning back to Olivia. There was sadness and loss in his face, deep in his eyes. His voice was so low she barely heard him as he answered her unspoken question.

“The band’s broken up. This was our last show. We’ve cancelled the rest of the tour.”