The Mistake(34)

His blue eyes twinkle mischievously. “It’s a surprise.”

“A good surprise?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Um, yeah. I can think of a hundred bad surprises off the top of my head.”

“Name one,” he challenges.

“Okay—you’re set up on a blind date, and you show up at the restaurant and Ted Bundy is sitting at the table.”

Logan grins at me. “Bundy is your go-to answer for everything, huh?”

“It appears so.”

“Fine. Well, point taken. And I promise, it’s a good surprise. Or in the very least, it’s neutral.”

“All right. Surprise away then.”

He pulls out of the parking lot and turns onto the road that leads away from campus. As I gaze out the window and watch the trees whiz by, a heavy sigh leaves my chest. “Why are people such *s sometimes?”

“Because they are,” he says simply. “Honestly, it’s not worth getting angry over. My advice? Don’t waste your time obsessing over the stupid actions of stupid people.”

“It’s kind of hard not to when they’re slandering my good name.” But I know he’s right. Why bother expending any mental energy on bullies like Piper Stevens? Three years from now, I won’t even remember her name.

“Seriously, Grace, don’t stress. You know what they say—haters be hating, and bitches be bitching.”

I laugh again. “That’s going to be my new motto.”

“Good. It should be.”

We pass the sky-blue sign with the words “Welcome to Hastings!” sprawled across it, and I peer out the window again. “I grew up around the corner,” I tell him.

He sounds surprised. “You’re from Hastings?”

“Yep. My dad’s been a professor at Briar for twenty years. I’ve spent my whole life here.”

Rather than head for the downtown core, Logan veers off in the direction of the highway. We don’t stay on it for long, though. A few exits pass and then he gets off at the sign for Munsen, the next town over.

An uneasy feeling washes over me. It’s so strange how a quaint, middle-class town like Hastings is equal in distance to both the campus of an Ivy League university and a town that my father, a man who doesn’t curse if he can help it, refers to as a “shit box.”

Munsen consists of shabby buildings in desperate need of repairs, a handful of strip malls, and rundown bungalows with unkempt lawns. The general store we pass boasts a flickering neon sign with half the letters burnt out, and the one building I see that isn’t dilapidated is a small brick church with a sign of its own—huge block letters that spell out “GOD PUNISHES THE SINNERS.”

The people of Munsen really know how to roll out a welcome mat.

“This is where I grew up,” Logan says gruffly.

My head swivels toward him. “Really? I didn’t know you were local, too.”

“Yup.” He gives me a self-deprecating look before focusing on the pothole-ridden road ahead of us. “It’s not much to look at, is it? Trust me, it’s even uglier in the daylight.”

The pickup bounces as we drive over a particularly deep pothole. Logan slows down, extending a hand toward my side of the windshield. “My dad’s shop is one street over. He’s a mechanic.”

“That’s cool. Did he teach you a lot about cars?”

“Yup.” He taps the dashboard in pride. “You hear that sexy purr coming out of this baby? I rebuilt the engine myself last summer.”

I’m genuinely impressed. And kinda turned on, because I appreciate a man who works with his hands. No, who actually knows how to use his hands. Last week, the guy who lives down the hall from me knocked on my door and asked me to help him change a light bulb. I’m not saying I’m Handy McHanderson or anything, but I’m capable of changing a frickin’ light bulb.

As we drive through a residential area, a burst of apprehension goes off inside me. Is he taking me to his childhood home? Because I’m not sure I’m ready for—

Nope, we’re on another dirt road now, driving away from town. Another five minutes, and we reach a large clearing. There’s a water tower in the distance, with the town name etched on its side, and it seems to glow in the moonlight, a stark white beacon standing out amidst the dark landscape.

Logan parks fifty yards from the tower, and my pulse speeds up when I realize that’s where we’re going. My hands shake as I follow him toward a steel ladder that starts at the base of the tower and extends upward, so high I can’t see where it ends.