Prologue
Joey
Before tonight, my most significant sexual relationship has been with my shower head.
Let me just say it takes guts to purchase a removable shower head from DeLuca’s Hardware Store when Mrs. DeLuca’s eyeing you like she knows you’re going to blast it against your privates when you get home.
Unfortunately, bravery has been fleeting in my life, but that was one of my more courageous moments.
So is this one.
For some reason, though, I’m not feeling the relief I thought I would.
And I’m not talking about the lack of an orgasm.
This—hooking up with Trent—is supposed to be about me letting go of the past, of someone I can’t have, and forging ahead. Of living my life instead of always feeling like I’m trapped in the back seat of someone else’s journey.
Trent is trying his best. Going slow and speaking softly. Being gentle.
And the sex is… fine.
Except my body aches, and not in pleasant ways. But a girl’s first time doesn’t always feel good, right?
I blink, wondering if I’m supposed to feel so numb. So disconnected.
But like I’ve just been hit by a car and it’s taking my body a few seconds to process the pain, the dam of emotion finally breaks.
One tear. Then two. Until a whole river cascades down my face, my conscience objecting to what I’ve just done.
Objecting to the man hovering over me with his brow crinkled in concern. Because he looks all wrong. Smells wrong. Feels wrong.
Black hair instead of dirty blonde. Brown eyes instead of blue. Smooth hands instead of rough.
“Joey, sweetheart. Are you okay?” Even the way he talks to me is wrong.
I shove him off me, wincing when he exits my body, and curl into the pillow that smells like the rest of this hotel. “Yeah. Just had too much to drink. Sorry.” I try to muffle the sob by burrowing deeper into the bedding.
His hand runs along my spine, a gesture to soothe me, I’m guessing. Trent’s a good guy. It’s not his fault I’m in love with someone else. In fact, we bonded over our mutual heartache. He’s recovering from a bad breakup. It was his idea for me to “break the seal” and use him to forget Logan.
Not that Logan was ever mine.
Trent probably just wanted to get off. I can’t blame him. A sure-thing hook-up with a twenty-two-year-old virgin with no strings attached? What red-blooded man declines that? No one I know.
But this is supposed to help me cut ties with Logan. That’s what this trip to Florida has been about. To grow up and get over him.
I needed to do something. What self-respecting woman in this day and age spends her whole life pining for the boy next door when he’s made it clear she’s not his type? That he loves her as a friend. That he sees her as his bud. His sidekick. Maybe even a little sister.
I cry harder. Because I know—as certain as I’m sure the sun will rise in the morning, despite the dread burning in my soul right now—that Logan loves me. As a friend. That even after not talking to him for months, he’d probably take a bullet for me. That he’d likely be pissed I gave it up to some guy I’ve only known for a few weeks after spending a lifetime waiting to give myself to someone I love.
Well, I got tired of waiting.
After years of watching my best friend hook up with other women, I finally grew a backbone. I only wish it felt better.
It doesn’t matter because Logan will never know what I’ve done.
I’ve been friend-zoned, and I’m ready to move on.
And by the time I see him at his brother’s wedding this summer, I hope my heart has let go of him too.
1
Logan
Secrets are the most damning thing about small towns. Secrets and lies.
I would know.
I stir my cup of shitty gas station coffee and watch another bus enter the dusty Texas depot, dropping off another ragtag group of people. They disembark, squinting into the soul-searing July sun as they stretch, probably wishing they’d forked over the extra cash to fly coach into Austin.
If Joey had told me she was taking the fucking bus from Florida, I’d have given her the money for a flight.
I shake off the pang of regret and anger that thrums through me every time I think of her. No, if she wanted my help, she’d have returned any one of my texts in the last six months.
Anxiety twists in my gut. Worry over how she’s doing. Fear that she traveled so far by herself. Irritation that I feel so helpless when it comes to this girl.
As the bus driver tosses suitcases from the side compartment of the Greyhound, one man picks up his bag and starts to stroll away, except he pauses, looks around, and yanks off something from his hand.
His wedding ring.
See what I mean? Secrets.
An SUV pulls into the parking lot a minute later, and he waves at the driver. A pretty young thing exits her vehicle and races into his arms. I’m guessing that’s not his wife.
I roll my eyes, a wave of anger settling in with the coffee and nerves churning in my chest.
Is it really so hard to keep your promises, asshole?
Reason two hundred why I don’t have a girlfriend—if you can’t be focused on a relationship, if you can’t be committed and faithful, then don’t have one. It ain’t that difficult.
Reaching over to the dash of my truck, I crank up the air conditioner.
A smack to my shoulder makes me jerk, and my buddy Patrick motions toward the clock. “For the third time, what time does her bus get in?”
My heart jackhammers against my sternum. “Ten more minutes.”
“No offense, but you look kinda fucked up. You okay?”
I shrug, not bothering to mention I forgot he was in the truck. “Just want to get this over with.”
He laughs and gives me a teasing look. “I’m sure Joey would love to know that’s how you feel.”
My hands tighten against the steering wheel, years of frustration whirling below the surface, but I shove that shit down. “Joey doesn’t know I’m coming. She thinks Tori’s picking her up.”
She asked my brother’s fiancée, who’s also her good friend, to give her a ride. If I’m being honest, it stings. But how could she ask me when she wouldn’t answer the fucking phone?
Patrick’s eyes widen. “Dang, son. This oughta be fun.”
I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, exhaustion from the last week taking its toll. “Cody wasn’t feeling well this morning, and Tori had to take him to the doctor. Otherwise…”
It pains me to finish the next sentence, so I don’t. But the truth is I wouldn’t have had a clue Joey was coming home today if Cody hadn’t gotten sick.
I figured she’d be back soon since my brother Ethan and his fiancée Tori are getting married in two weeks, and Joey is one of Tori’s bridesmaids, but no one gave me any specifics. Tori’s been strangely silent on the topic of my best friend. Or former best friend.
Fuck.
I rub my chest, over the ache that started when Joey left with barely a word as to why. One minute we were taking holiday photos with my family, and then, poof, she was gone. She left me a vague text—something about needing to get on with her life, which really fucking confused me—and then moved her grandmother to be near their family in Florida. I knew her uncle had offered to help relocate Rosalie, but Joey never seemed eager to go.