The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(97)

Claire’s cheeks bloomed with heat. Peyton might not be judging her, but her words were like a pillow pressed over Claire’s face.

Peyton leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes staring at a distant spot. “I came to town filled with regret and shame, convinced I deserved this illness. I’ve apologized, tucked my chin all over town, tried to make amends. And while I still feel some of those things, I’m no longer willing to spend whatever time I’ve got left begging and cowering.

“I’ve no idea if my surgery and the meds I’m still taking have killed all the cancer and can keep it from spreading, so I need to make the most of my second chance—however long it lasts.” She turned her gaze on Claire. “Every single day is a gift, Claire. I came here to remind you of that because I think you’re still living scared.”

Claire shook her head. “I’ve been making changes, Peyton, as you know. But regardless of whether you agree, what does any of this have to do with Logan’s happiness?”

“Last time we talked about him, I suggested your differences were insurmountable. But I hadn’t thought through how events and people change us. My cancer changed me. The situation with Todd changed us. And, oddly enough, now I think maybe you changed Logan, too. I hadn’t considered that before . . . that maybe his needs could change.” A sweet, sad little smile flickered. “I see you taking chances again—which is great—but you’re not taking the most important risk. The one with your heart. I also know I’m partly to blame for that. That’s why I’m here.

“If any part of you regrets walking away from Logan, tell him now. Don’t let love slip through your fingers. You’ll never forgive yourself if you do—and you’ll never forgive me, either. Despite everything, I still hold out hope that, someday, you and I will be friends again. But even if that day never comes, I’ll always support your relationship with my brother.” Peyton sighed and slouched back into the chair.

Claire could hear the heaviness of her own breath. She stared at Peyton, her body reeling on a sea of emotion whipped up by that speech. A few years ago, this moment might’ve ended with a hug between the friends. Something in Claire longed to go back in time to when everything had been simpler. But they could only go forward.

“I believe you mean well, so thank you for that. But you’re inserting yourself into something you shouldn’t.” Claire shrugged. “Whatever Logan does or doesn’t feel, it’s up to him to share it with me, which he hasn’t.”

“Have you shared yours?” came Peyton’s shrewd reply.

Claire stood and crossed to the front door. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m tired and hungry. I heard you out, but this isn’t your problem to solve. I think you should go now. Please.”

Peyton shook her head as she rose from her seat. Claire opened the front door with a polite smile fixed on her face, preparing to say goodbye, when Peyton surprised her with a fierce hug. She spoke directly in Claire’s ear with sad urgency. “Please don’t dismiss everything I’ve said just because you dislike me. Despite everything, I still love you, Claire, and I want to see you happy.”

Peyton released Claire and walked out of the house without making eye contact.

For a few seconds, Claire stood there not knowing what to do, unable to make her body move. Eventually, she closed the door. The air seemed hot and heavy, burning her lungs even as she strained to suck it in. Logan was home, in the apartment she’d redesigned. Did he like the personal touches?

She grabbed her bag and went to the kitchen in search of snacks. Unpacking Peyton’s visit—and hug—would require chocolate and salt.

Dazedly, she plugged her phone into a charger, then rummaged her cabinets. Twix bars and milk would have to suffice. She poured a small glass and tore into the candy wrapper, then went to see what other messages she’d missed this afternoon. Right now she’d do anything to avoid thinking about Peyton’s lecture.

Logan. His name appeared on the screen as if in boldface. She snapped off a gigantic bite of the Twix with her teeth and opened the email, heart thudding with each line of text she read. When she’d finished, she clicked on the attachment, stunned by the portrait of herself captured through his eyes.

He’d sent it almost two hours ago. Was he waiting for a reply even as she sat there rereading the note? A love note. After all the secret love letters she’d written to him and stuffed under her bed as a teen, Logan Prescott had finally sent her one.

She glanced at the clock, then whirled around and went to the bookshelf to retrieve the scrapbook he’d discovered weeks ago. Her heart raced, pumping hope and life through her limbs. She felt so full of them she almost forgot to grab Rosie on her way out the door.



Logan woke with a start. Neither hot nor uncomfortable, he blinked, stretching out against cool sheets. It took a disoriented second to remember he wasn’t in Lesbos or Greece but at home, surrounded by the comfort of air-conditioning and potable water. Within the next few seconds, he became aware of a presence—a sound—that didn’t belong.

Someone had entered his apartment.

With limbs still heavy from an incomplete nap, he slid out of bed and crept toward the open bedroom door, then froze.

Claire stood at the kitchen island with her back to him. She’d set something on the counter, then turned and noticed him. “Hi.”