Page 67 of Overtime Goal
I was runningout of streets to search, not to mention breath and ideas. Whatever thread of calm I’d been holding on to burned away in the late-afternoon heat. For what seemed like hours, I’d been tearing up and down Positano’s maze of sunlit alleys and bougainvillea-choked staircases, ducking into bars, and scanning every terrace and café. No Logan, no Quinn.
With every corner I turned, panic choked my gut a little more. My heart hammered like it was trying to break free, and my sweat-soaked shirt clung to my back. My legs were on fire, but stopping wasn’t an option. There was no way in hell I’d go home to sit in the dark, imagining Logan fucking that scumbag Weaver.
I loved Logan, and I was pretty damn sure he loved me. If there was still a chance for us, then the only person either of us should be fucking was each other. What we had wasn’t only about sex; it was about finding the person I wanted for the rest of my life.
What the hell will I do if I can’t find him?
Hotels were next. There was no way receptionists would hand over names like Quinn Weaver or Logan Grayson, but I had to try. Going from room to room, knocking like a lunaticmight get me tossed out or even arrested. No matter. It would beat the hell out of showing up too late and hearing something through a door I’d never scrub out of my head.
I shook it off. Thinking about Logan naked with Quinn was poison, especially when I hadn’t even told him how I felt. I fucking loved him, more than anything. If I had to scream it in the middle of a restaurant, dodging waiters with trays of drinks and grilled octopus, I would. I didn’t care who heard, as long as Logan did.
Halfway up another incline, my legs gave out. I bent over, with my hands on my knees and my lungs burning like fire. A couple stopped and asked if I was okay. When I wheezed out something about exercising, they moved on, looking unconvinced.
Two more streets, then the hotels.
I forced my legs back into motion and dragged myself onto Via Guglielmo Marconi. The afternoon was so humid I had to struggle for every breath. I kept checking places but turned up nothing. A blond guy at Roc made my heart seize, but when he turned his head, it wasn’t Logan.
Fuck.
I kept going. Each step was heavier than the last, but stopping wasn’t an option. At the intersection, I veered onto Via Cristoforo Colombo. Tourists clogged the way, laughing over limoncello shots while scooters buzzed past.
Then I came to Marco’s. Tucked into the hillside, the terrace was an open space with cobalt-blue chairs and matching tables. Logan and I had passed it on a walk after we arrived in town and said we should come back.
I stepped inside and told the host I was meeting someone. He nodded, and I wove through the crowd, checking every table.
Finally.He was sitting halfway across the terrace with Quinn beside him, way too close. My heart pounded as the noise of thebar faded into a dull roar. Weaver was bigger than me, but I might have to beat the shit out of him before the day was out. I wouldn’t be acting like my father; I’d be declaring for the man I loved.
Energized, I took off. When I came up beside the table, they were staring at each other.
“Logan,” I said. “Thank God I found you.”
They looked over. Logan jerked his head back and blinked before a smile formed on his lips. “Riles?”
“Have I changed so much you have to ask?”
Weaver narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here, Riley?”
“Logan and I are on vacation together. Didn’t he tell you? We’re staying at a villa up the mountain.” I placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder and smirked at Weaver. “We’ll be here for a month.”
Weaver looked back and forth between us. “The fuck? What’s going on here?”
Logan swallowed. “Um… What he said. We’re here together.” He looked up at me. “What I don’t understand is why you’re here at Marco’s. How did you find me?”
“I’ve been looking for you, running all over the damn city.” My heart was beating so hard my voice shook. “Up and down every fucking street. I didn’t know where to start, but I had to find you before I lost my goddamn mind.”
Quinn shifted in his seat. “You could’ve called like a normal person.”
“No,” I snapped, giving him a cutting glance. “This is way too fucking important to risk a call going to voicemail.”
Logan eased his shoulder out from under my hand. “What’s going on, Riles?”
“Logan, I… I’m not sure how to say this, but I’ll do my best. I didn’t plan a big speech, but you left, and I couldn’t let us end like that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “End like what?”
“Like wh…” I swallowed, trying to get the lump in my throat down, then tried again. “Like what we were doing didn’t matter, wasn’t real. And that I wasn’t important.”
“I didn’t leave for good. Weren’t we going to talk later?”
