Page 87 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“I really need to see her,” I say. “It’s important.”

Gwen plants her hands on her hips and purses her lips, staring me down with a stormy-blue gaze just like Victoria’s. I’m definitely not her favorite person right now. Part of me wonders what Vic might have told her, what advice Gwen offered in return. Maybe it’s best I never know.

Because that stare says she’s calculating how far she’d have to drag my body into the swamp to make it disappear forever.

Based on our location? Not far.

“Slim chance of that,” Gwen says, that brow arching again. “Ghosting her isn’t winning you any points around here.”

“Please,” I beg. “This can’t wait. I need to talk to her.”

“Then I’d suggest trying the phone,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “Or have you forgotten how to use one?”

“This is an in-person conversation,” I offer. “I owe her a lot more than a phone call.”

That seems to get her attention.

“She’s upset with me, and I understand why,” I tell her. “But I swear, I didn’t ghost her. Not on purpose, anyway.” In the next breath, I become a human firehose, telling her all about Derrick and his identical phone, the ravenous pug and the bear claw, and my embarrassing wipe-out in the middle of airport security.

When I’m finished, she bites back a grin and says, “That’s quite a story.”

“Ridiculous, but true. I know she thinks I’m avoiding her, and I need to correct that. As soon as humanly possible.”

She nods, and I can tell she’s thinking about the last time this happened, when I left the country instead of correcting my mistake. Victoria and Gwen are as close as two sisters can be, and there’s no way Vic left out any relevant details—definitely not back in college, and most likely not today.

“Let me fix this,” I tell her. “Please.”

She stares at me for what feels like a full minute, her face like a storm cloud. “Come on,” she says finally. “It’s hot as blazes out here and you need all the help you can get.”

I follow her down the steps and across the lawn to her house, which indeed looks very similar to Vic’s—at least on the outside. When Gwen leads me inside, she takes me straight into the kitchen where a tall guy with reddish hair sits at the kitchen bar, studying his laptop.

“Logan,” she says, “This is Noah. The ghost.”

I cringe as Logan lifts a brow. He’s as big as an oak tree, but dressed in a tee shirt and tan pants that look tailor-made and likely cost more than everything in my closet combined.

“He’s here to make a big romantic gesture,” she tells him.

This time, I don’t argue. Victoria deserves all the big romantic gestures.

Logan’s brows shoot upward as he gives me a quick once-over. “Ah,” he says. “In that case, welcome. Can I get you a coffee? No offense, but you look like you could use one.” His lip ticks upward. Apparently he’s heard a couple of Noah stories, too.

“Thanks,” I tell him. “I’d appreciate it.” My heart’s still pounding with adrenaline from the rush of driving over to see Victoria.

“Is she coming back soon?” I ask Gwen, already planning where I might wait for her. In that cute bakery on Main Street, maybe. Or stretched out in that cozy hammock I glimpsed by the corner of her porch. Is it weird and stalker-ish to wait for her at her house? Probably. But what if I’m waiting with wine and cupcakes?

“No,” Gwen says, pulling her phone from her pocket. “She’ll be gone a while.”

My heart sinks.Florida.Did she take the job and head down there already? Have I missed my chance with her entirely?

No, I think. Because I’ll hop right back into my car and drive down to Florida, too. Pineola? Pensacola? Gwen will tell me, and I’ll fill myself with coffee and snacks and drive all night if I have to.

Because Victoria’s worth it. I should have made that clear to her a thousand times before. I hate that she left camp thinking that I was ignoring her—because of course that’s how she’d feel after three days of unanswered texts.

I turn back to Gwen. “Please tell me where I can find her. I know you barely know me, but I’m not some weirdo stalker. The last three weeks have made me see that I’m completely…I mean, your sister’s the only—” I pause, trying to still my racing heart and form a complete sentence that doesn’t sound hopeless and desperate. “She’s the person I love most in the world and I think I might actually die if I don’t see her again.”

Gwen and Logan exchange a look. So much for not sounding desperate.

“A wee bit dramatic,” Gwen says. “But I’ll allow it.”

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