Crazy Little Thing Called Love (24 page)

“The Wrights?”

“Oh. I forgot to mention them.” She rubbed her eyes, which were gritty with lack of sleep. “The Wrights are an older couple who were our neighbors when my family lived here. I took them to the shelter with me.”

“Vanessa, you are not responsible for everyone in Niceville.”

“No. No, I'm not. But the Wrights were like my adopted grandparents. I wasn't going to leave them in their house with a hurricane heading for the Panhandle.”

Why was she having to explain this to Ted, too?

“And once you take them home, then what?”

“Well, I imagine the Wrights' daughter will come get her parents and take them to Alabama. And I'll get on my flight home—”

Ted interrupted her. “Not right away, you won't.”

“What?”

“According to the news reports, Fort Walton Beach Airport is closed for at least the next twenty-four hours, maybe longer.”

Vanessa's shoulders slumped, and she rested her head on her arms. “I wasn't thinking that far ahead—sleep-deprived, I guess.”

“And you won't be able to go back to the island.”

Vanessa needed to sit up. And she would—in a minute. “I can only imagine what Destin looks like.”

“Some hotels are completely destroyed. And there's all sorts of debris on the beach.”

“Of course there is.”

She needed to think. To figure out how she was getting back to Colorado. But any residual adrenaline from yesterday's crazy adventure had disappeared. She couldn't get back to Denver—and she had no place to go in Florida. What was she going to do?

“You want me to start calling around to see if I can find a hotel room for you?”

“Good luck with that. Everyone else is going to be doing the same thing. Ugh. Why didn't I think of this sooner?”

“Maybe you could stay at the Wrights'?”

“Maybe—but I really hope Ruth, their daughter, will drive down and get them. One of the first things I want to do is have Mrs. Wright call her. They shouldn't be living on their own. And besides, I doubt they'll have electricity.” Vanessa forced herself to sit up. “Maybe Mindy has room for me. It's worth a try.”

“You want me to come down there?”

“Oh, Ted, that's sweet—but no. Like you said, the airport isn't open—and won't be for another day or so. Let me see what I can do. I'll help the Wrights. Talk to Mindy. And I'll call you later.”

Vanessa pocketed her phone, standing to her feet and scanning the arena. Within seconds she found Julie and Max, gathering up their supplies as the Wrights sat in the two camp chairs. Logan and Brady were nowhere in sight—probably checking on her rental car—which made it easier for her to go and talk to the Wrights.

Not that she was avoiding Logan.

She plopped back down in the chair.

Yes, she was.

Being around Logan felt like she was running from one end of an emotional teeter-totter to the other. Up. Down. Too close to one side and she was going to crash to the ground . . .

It was like inhaling adrenaline. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed being with him. She'd forgotten how Logan made scary things—like learning to drive his motorcycle or staying outside when it was raining and lightning—exciting. The way he challenged her—made life more daring, more wide open—all the reasons she'd fallen in love with him.

Although she'd never said the words out loud.

Never once in all the months they'd dated . . . never once in the months they'd been married, had she ever said,
I love you, Logan
.

Had that made walking away from him—from their marriage—easier? Had she somehow protected herself, protected some hidden part of her heart, by not saying
I love you
?

Had Logan even noticed? He'd spoken the words so freely himself. And he never asked her why . . . never said, “I love you,” and then waited for her to respond in kind.

She said, “I love you,” to Ted, but if she was honest, it almost felt the same as when she said “hello” or “goodbye” to him—casual, everyday phrases used in conversation.

She'd grown up and learned “I love you” was the appropriate response whether you felt the emotion or not.

Vanessa pushed out of the seat again. Stretched her back. Pulled the elastic band free from her ponytail and restyled it, all the while standing still as others packed up their belongings and left the shelter.

God, I don't want to be here.

Not here in Florida.

Here—stuck between my past and my future. Stuck between Logan and Ted. I love Ted. You brought him into my life, right? I know you don't like divorce—but it's not the unforgivable sin. And I'm ready to be married again. It's not as if Logan and I can recapture what we had—whatever that was.

She shook her head. This train of thought—this prayer—was getting her nowhere—except pulled into dangerous territory. Again.

Time to call Mindy. Make plans for where she was staying tonight and then make sure the Wrights were set for tonight, too—and get as far from Logan Hollister as possible.

•  •  •

Logan followed the spicy aroma of chili as it lured him into his parents' backyard like an invisible, soundless Pied Piper. Unexpected company the day after Hurricane Cressida, which, for all her huffing and puffing, had arrived as a Category 2? Fine. As far as his mother was concerned, she now had a reason to throw an impromptu dinner party for his team.

Of course, thanks to his father's foresight, they weren't struggling with a lack of electricity and food thawing in the freezers. No, the backup generator in the garage ensured the Hollister family continued living in relative comfort. They'd need to clear out a few fallen trees, but none of those trees were near the house, so they didn't need to haul out the chain saws tonight—much to Brady's disappointment.

“Hey, big brother.” Caron handed him a cold can of Coke. “Mother told me to deliver this—and yes, I brought you a slice of lemon.”

“Thanks.” Logan popped the top, just the sound of the metallic click causing his mouth to water. “Just what I needed.”

“So, Julie's been regaling me with your hurricane adventure.”

“My what?”

“She told me that Vanessa was at the shelter—and that the two of you transported a very sick boy to Eglin Air Force Base Hospital.”

“Oh. That.” Logan slipped the wedge of lemon into the can before tossing back a gulp of soda.

“
Oh. That.
” Caron mimicked his tone with a grimace and a shake of her head. “Really? You see your ex-wife for the first time in eight years and help her rescue someone from drowning. Then you run into her again during the hurricane—and take a casual drive through the storm. You spend the night together. And that's all you have to say?”

“We did not spend the night together. And yes, that's all I have to say.”

Caron positioned herself in front of him, blocking his escape. “So how is my ex-sister-in-law?”

“She's getting married again.”

“What?” Caron's blue eyes, so like his own, widened.

“You heard me. She's here planning her destination wedding for next April.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel—” Logan gulped down another swallow of soda. “What are you, Caro? A shrink?”

“I'm your sister—and I happen to know you're still in love with Vanessa.”

“Really? I think you're just a hopeless romantic. Does Alex know your e-reader is loaded with romance novels? That when it comes to movies you prefer Sandra Bullock in
While You Were Sleeping
over
Speed 
?”

“I don't see you getting remarried, Logan. As a matter of fact, I don't hear any mention of you dating anyone—ever.” Caron poked two fingers into his chest. “Why is that? Wait—I know. It's because you're still in love with your ex-wife.”

“It's been eight years, little sister. Eight years. We're done.”

“But she's back in Florida—and you're back in Florida—”

“And she's engaged. To be married.”

“Fine. Be that way.”

“Be what way? Smart?”

“So where's she staying while she's here?” Caron relaxed her stance, but that didn't fool him.

“Why?”

“We were friends, too, you know. I might want to say hello.”

“Caro, you haven't talked to Vanessa since she and I divorced.”

“That doesn't mean I haven't missed her. Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Julie joined them, carrying a plate of homemade guacamole and chips.

“Vanessa Hollister, Logan's ex-wife.”

“Oh, she was going to get the Wrights home and then go stay with her friend Mindy.”

Logan shook his head. “And you know this because?”

“Because, unlike you, I asked her what she was going to do when she left the shelter today.” Julie shrugged. “She wanted to make certain the Wrights' house was okay. Said she was afraid they might have some downed trees.”

“Wouldn't be surprising.” Logan swiped one of her chips. “I hope there's no major damage.”

“We could go over there tomorrow and check on them.”

“Check on who?” Max joined the trio, leaning on a solitary crutch.

“The Wrights. Logan's concerned they might have lost some trees during the hurricane.”

“I'm game.” Max flexed his arm.

“You are not handling a chain saw.” Logan scanned the backyard. “And where is your other crutch?”

“Fine. Someone else can cut stuff down. I can still haul off branches.”

“You're on crutches, man.”

“I'm managing fine on just one. But to keep you happy, boss, I'll sit and visit with Mr. Wright while you work. We got along great.” Max lowered his voice as if whispering a secret. “Do you know he thinks you and Vanessa are still married?”

“Yeah, well, he's a little foggy on the details these days.”

Caron interrupted them. “So it's a plan, then?”

“What?” Brady joined them, eating a bowl of chili.

“We'll help my mom and dad some tomorrow morning.” Caron rushed in to explain before Logan had a chance to veto the idea. “Then we'll load up a couple of chain saws and go check on the Wrights right after lunch. I'll make sure Alex can come along, too.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Whatever.” Logan backed away from the conversation. “I'm going to go get some chili.”

Vanessa probably wouldn't be there tomorrow, anyway—she had a wedding to plan.

That thought should be comforting—not searing his heart like a virtual branding.

Vanessa was getting remarried.

She was moving on—and so was he. Dreams were coming true in new ways for her . . . and his was ending. And both were his fault.

This kind of thinking was killing him. He'd just deal with today for now—and the possibility of flying home as soon as possible. They could keep checking their flights back to Oklahoma while they swung by to see if the Wrights needed anything. Even if they wielded chain saws for a few hours, Max could visit with Mr. Wright and keep an eye on the news and the airlines on his cell phone.

He wasn't the only traveler whose plans had been disrupted by Hurricane Cressida. The airlines wanted to get things back to normal even more than he did.

It would all settle out once he and Vanessa retreated to their neutral corners.

What had woken her up?

With a few blinks of her eyes, Vanessa remembered she was in Logan's parents' apartment.

Where she and Logan had lived for about a month.

Somehow, she needed to start thinking of this as home now.

The window air conditioner filled the darkness with a soft hum. She shifted onto her side, pulling the sheet up to her shoulder.

Why was Logan's side of the bed empty—the covers tossed back?

They'd spent the evening eating ramen noodles and studying for their tests tomorrow. Had he gotten back up for some late-night cramming?

She wrapped the comforter around herself and padded out to the living room. The light of the table lamp highlighted Logan on the couch, slumped forward over his knees, his hands burrowed in the strands of his long hair.

“Logan, what's wrong?”

His bare shoulders shifted beneath her touch, as if he hadn't realized she was there until she spoke. He scrubbed his palms across his face, but his red-rimmed eyes let her know he'd been crying.

“Are you sick?” She wrapped the blanket around both of them. From the way his body shook, he must be freezing.

“No.” Logan's gaze focused on his hands, which were fisted against his pajama-clad thighs. “I had a nightmare.”

A nightmare?

She brushed back the hair from his forehead. “I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?”

“It's just a stupid dream . . . I haven't had one in a long time.” His words were guttural. Forced.

She tried to pull him close, and after a few seconds he stopped resisting and leaned into her embrace. His head rested in the curve of her neck and shoulder, his hair soft against her skin. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and then combed her fingers through his hair. He often said how he liked it when she did that.

Should she ask him about the nightmare? Or should she just let him relax?

“I was back on my grandparents' farm.” Logan's whisper broke the silence. “The tornado was coming . . . and I couldn't find anyone. I was running around looking for Pop Pop and Mom Mom and Caron . . . and you.”