Technology and I are not friends. I’m trying to bring up an old email on my phone, one that has banking information on it, that I need today in order to open this account, but it is being a bitch and I can’t find it. I am seconds away from cursing and tossing the cell phone out the window. I close my eyes and rest my head back on the seat. For long seconds all I do is breathe in and out, telling myself not to get frustrated, not to sweat the seemingly small stuff. But since moving back to Hartford it has just been one thing after another, as if the universe is telling me something, shouting at me that I’m not welcome. First the bank didn’t have a record of the information I sent them, which is why I am trying to pull up the email. Then I had issues with the house I planned on renting. Not to mention I am having car trouble, which tells me I probably won’t be able to make this chunk of metal last another year, not unless I want to fork over a lot of money to put into it.

It is just one thing after another and I am starting to think maybe it was a bad idea coming back here.

But on the heels of that thought I can’t help but picture Logan. I always do when I think about Hartford. Even all these years later there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I didn’t think about him. Hell, many times I have been so close to calling him, had the phone in my hand, his number punched in, and my finger hovering over the send button. But each time I talked myself out of it, told myself it would only cause more issues in the long run. I wonder when I’ll see him, how that interaction will go. I have no doubts it’ll be awkward and uncomfortable, but that is from my own doing. I’m the one who screwed everything up, ran from the only person who knew me better than I knew myself. I was frightened and heartbroken, and instead of talking it out with him, telling him how I felt, what I wanted, I just pushed him away and left without so much as a goodbye.

I am a coward.

I lift my hand and rub my eyes, exhaling deeply. Even if I don’t want to run into Logan, Hartford is a small town and it is inevitable that our paths will cross. Besides, people talk, running their mouths because they have nothing better to do. The gossip will get to him before too long. I can’t lie and say that I’m not scared and anxious to see him again. But I don’t want to see the look of hurt and judgment in his eyes, the questions he might throw at me about why I left so suddenly, why I stayed away and didn’t keep in contact. Because truthfully, I don’t know if I can be honest with him. I don’t know if I can admit that I love him, that I’ve always loved him. A tap on my window has me snapping my eyes open and glancing to the side. And then everything in me stills, just stops until I’m not even breathing, until my heart no longer beats in my chest. There, standing on the other side of my door, only a thin barrier of glass and metal separating us, is the one person who consumes my thoughts. Logan. It has been years since I’ve seen him, but those years have been good to him. He’s no longer that young man who was just starting out on his father’s ranch.

The Logan I am looking at now is big and strong, with golden skin no doubt from working out in the fields day in and day out, with muscles stacked upon muscles, and that smoldering expression that could melt ice in negative temperatures. He’s currently looking at me like he’s seen a ghost. Hell, I probably look the same way.

For long seconds I just sit there, not moving, unable to even think coherently. He leans down and taps on the window again, a smirk on his face that has my cheeks heating and other parts of my body coming alive. And then my heart starts beating faster. My palms have become sweaty, and beads of perspiration dot the valley between my breasts. I reach over and roll the window down, a breeze slamming into me, which doesn’t help my overheated body in any sense.

We don’t speak, but I swear I can feel the chemistry bouncing between us. I tell myself it’s one way. It’s always been one way.

Finally I clear my throat and shift on the seat. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel right now. To be honest, it doesn’t feel like five years has passed. I can still see myself as a teenager who steals glances at Logan when he isn’t looking. I feel like I could just start where we left off, that I could pretend like the last five years never passed.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” His voice is deep, serrated, like a knife moving over my body.

I feel like my eyes are as wide as saucers, and I can still feel the heat on my face; I’m sure it is bright red.

“You were the last person I thought I’d be seeing.” He gives me a smirk, but I can see this guarded look on his face. I know he’s got questions, ones that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to answer. But I want to. I want to be able to be open and honest with him, to tell him exactly how I feel and why I left. And as I stare into his deep blue eyes, I feel my love for him rise up to the surface, threatening to break free.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time.” My voice is soft, distant almost.

“It’s been a real fucking long time, Lila.” He straightens and adjusts his Stetson, the brim blocking out the sun above. It’s a well-worn, well-loved cowboy hat, and I idly wonder if it was his father’s. The swatch of shade moves along his face. He’s got a days’ worth of stubble covering his cheeks and jaw, and I wonder how it would feel if I ran my hand along the scruff. Hell, I want to know how it feels to wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Silence stretches on again.

“I see your mom every now and then, but mainly she keeps to herself.” He rests his forearm on the hood of my car and leans forward. The plaid button-down shirt he’s wearing doesn’t hide his muscular body. His biceps are all but bulging from the material, making me tingle between my thighs. I clench my legs together and try to appear calm and collected when I feel anything but.

“Yeah, she’s more of a homebody since I left.” I feel my entire body stiffen as I mention that I’ve been gone. He doesn’t say anything and I wonder if he will. Maybe he’ll let it go. Maybe he’ll pretend that I am not a complete asshole and just left our friendship hanging.

I lick my lips and take him in once more. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and I can’t help but stare at his hand, with the calluses from working on the ranch all these years, to the few small white scars I see littering his forearms from farm life.

“You in town for a while, or just passing through, visiting your mom?”

I swallow. “I actually just moved back. I got a job here after graduating.”

He nods slowly.

“You staying with your mom?”

I shake my head. “No, I am renting a place over on Hemlock Drive.”

He nods again. “That’s kind of secluded out there.”

“Yeah, I like it that way.” I smile, but it’s forced.

More silence ensues.

“I’d love to catch up, see what you’ve been doing all these years.” He clenches his jaw and I wonder if he was about to bring up me leaving so suddenly. “I would like that, too.”

He has his hand on the edge of my door, and I can see he’s gripping it tightly; his knuckles are white from the force. There’s a knowing look on his face. He wants to probe but he’s refraining. I am thankful for that.

“Well, sounds like a plan then.” He smiles, flashing straight white teeth. “How about I give you my number and you can let me know when you’re settled and have some free time?”

I find myself nodding, not able to actually form a coherent word. I enter his number into my phone, and end up giving him my new cell number. We stay like that for a moment, Logan just staring at me, my heart lodged in my throat. He taps the hood of my car with his hand and grins again.

“I’ll make sure to hold you to that catching-up date.”

I exhale slowly at the very mention of a date. I don’t know why I thought I could leave him behind, that I could move on with my life. There is no life without Logan Stewart.