hovering over me. His expression is tight with concern as he studies me.
“Are you all right?” he asks anxiously.
“I’m fine.” I try to push up onto my elbows but he eases me back.
“Careful. You nearly fainted.”
“I must have…I’ve been feeling…not myself.” I struggle to find a reason for the sudden episode.
“Do you have a history of fainting? An illness?” he asks.
“No.”
He cups my face in his hands and my mind goes blank at his touch. “You’re pale,” he murmurs almost to himself. Then, “Low blood sugar? When was the last time you ate?”
I bite my lip, trying to remember. “Yesterday?”
His expression turns clinical, and he tsks. “That’s not healthy.”
“I’ve had a lot going on.”
This time, when I try to sit up, he helps me. His hands on my shoulders are distracting enough to send my thoughts scattering all over again. But finally, my body registers how hungry I am.
When I look up at Logan, he’s sitting back on his heels, assessing my movements. “You really need to eat.”
I make a gut decision. “Do you like tequila?”
He smiles. “Only in large quantities.”
I laugh and the effort doesn’t feel nearly as forced as it does when I’m with Corbin—or anyone else for that matter. “I know a great place that has the best tacos and tequila. If you’re not busy.”
He stands and gestures to the door. “Lead the way. But I’m driving.”
Considering how wobbly my knees are, I don’t try to protest. Despite the dizziness, I feel more like myself than I have in days as we drive the short distance to the Mexican restaurant.
For now, at least, Corbin’s anger, the wolves, Estelle’s ghostly visits—all of it fades away. There is only me and my new friend. Logan. The fact that he makes my heart race when he looks at me isn’t important, I tell myself. It’s probably just the low blood sugar anyway.
Twenty minutes later, we sit across from each other in a corner booth. Around us, the restaurant is crowded and noisy. It settles me. Being here, in public, but it hasn’t dimmed the attraction.
Normal, I tell myself.
He’s handsome. And mysterious.
But I’m engaged.
And having a simple meal with a friend. Nothing more.
“How long have you lived in the city?” he asks while we wait for the waitress.
“My whole life,” I tell him, and while the words are true, they feel wrong coming out of my mouth.
“Do you have family here?” he asks.
“My sister, Estelle,” I tell him. “But she’s in a coma. Has been for years..”
“Do you see her often?”
“I try to get over there once a week.”
“And your parents?”
I know he’s trying to be friendly, but the personal questions make me uncomfortable. I glance away, searching for the waitress, and shake my head.
“I’m sorry.” His hand covers mine and my skin sparks with an electric jolt that has me snatching my fingers away.
We stare at each other as a waitress delivers complimentary chips and salsa. Neither of us look up at her. I can’t seem to tear my eyes from his no matter how much my pulse races. Whatever this connection is between us, it’s getting stronger.
More dangerous.
I feel in my blood that if I keep walking this path, it will uproot my life, but I can’t seem to bring myself to change direction.
The waitress asks if we’re ready to order, but I don’t answer. I can’t. Logan shakes his head without taking his eyes from mine. She mutters something about giving us another minute and then walks off.
“That was . . . interesting,” Logan murmurs and looks down at his menu.
With the spell broken, I exhale and blink, trying to get my bearings. It takes several deep breaths and a dozen tortilla chips before the mood feels casual again.
We manage to place our order and chat about his career as a therapist but through it all, my pulse thrums faster than normal and butterflies bat at my stomach. I try to remember the last time I felt like this with Corbin.
Never.
But that can’t be right. We’re in love. Or so my memories tell me. My heart says something else.
“You seem to really enjoy helping people with their problems,” I say.
“Humanity’s greatest asset is our ability to feel,” he says. “It’s also our biggest obstacle at times.”
Something about the way he says the words makes me pause. “And what about you? Are your feelings an asset or an obstacle?”
He starts to speak but then stops, tilting his head to study me. “I’m not yet sure,” he says finally and