Kayla lay on her bed, absentmindedly playing with her purse. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice Brooke enter the room.
"Kay!" Brooke's voice snapped her back to reality.
"Oh—Brooke! When did you get here?" Kayla blinked, sitting up quickly.
"What happened this time?" Brooke asked, narrowing her eyes with that familiar 'Start talking' expression.
"Nothing happened," Kayla muttered, still fiddling with her purse strap. "It's just… this doesn't feel right."
"Everything about life doesn't feel right, Kay," Brooke said with a sigh, sitting beside her on the bed.
Kayla's thoughts drifted again, her fingers tracing the zipper of her bag.
"What about that guy?" Brooke asked suddenly.
"The one you wanted to pay for the car repair—did he say anything after you gave him the money?"
Kayla hesitated. "I… didn't get the chance to give it to him."
Brooke tilted her head. "Then why do you look so bothered?"
"There's something about him," Kayla said softly. "I can't stop thinking about him. He looked… broken. But when I played, he looked calm, peaceful even."
Brooke picked up their brown cat, Pie, and sighed. "Careful, Kay. You're always looking for strays to heal. That was how you adopted Pie when she was injured and abandoned."
"I'm serious, Brooke," Kayla said, locking eyes with her.
Brooke frowned. "I know that look. You can't afford to fall in love again, Kay."
"I'm not falling in love with anyone!" Kayla protested, rolling her eyes.
"Then good," Brooke teased. "Once you pay him for the repair, your conscience will be clear."
"Yeah," Kayla said with a small nod. "It's just… I feel indebted to him, that's all."
"Good." Brooke stood up, cuddling Pie in her arms. "Care for an apple?"
"No, I need to get to the store," Kayla said, slipping on her hoodie.
"What's for dinner?" Brooke called after her.
"Sort it out!" Kayla laughed as she shut the door behind her.
***
Logan's POV
***
My fingers drifted across the piano keys. It had been so long since I last played. The music store was quiet—maybe because it was Sunday.
I played one song… then another.
And when the final note faded, a small cough echoed behind me.
"Hi," a soft voice whispered.
I turned. "Kayla."
She smiled shyly. "Can I sit?"
"Yeah, sure."
Silence filled the space between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
"You play so well," she said finally, breaking the stillness.
"I don't hear that often," I chuckled. "You're the first person to hear me play in years."
"The pleasure's mine," she smiled, her eyes lighting up.
"If I may ask," she said hesitantly, "how many years has it been?"
"My mom never liked music," I said with a forced smile. "So I had to stop—to make her happy."
"You must love your mom a lot," she said gently.
I didn't reply. Some wounds don't need reopening.
"Actually," she started again, fidgeting, "I wanted to apologize about the car."
I looked at her, curious.
"I thought you were… a jerk," she admitted, lowering her head. "And when I realized I was wrong, I guess I overreacted by hitting your car."
A jerk? That stung—and yet, it made me laugh.
"I'm really sorry," she said quickly, pulling out a small bundle of notes and placing them in my hand. "I meant to give this to you the other day, but… it didn't feel like the right time."
"Can we just forget that happened?" I asked softly.
"Sure," she said with a small laugh. "It wasn't exactly a good memory."
That made me laugh, too.
"I know we started off wrong," I said, pushing the purse back toward her, "but you don't have to pay me."
"My conscience won't let me rest knowing you haven't fixed it," she said, her voice so sincere it almost disarmed me.
This girl had no idea who I really was—Logan Avalon.
"You're funny," I said before I could stop myself. "And that's… kind of cute."
Her cheeks flushed. "Are you sure I don't have to pay you? You can't take it back later!"
"I won't."
"Pinkie promise." She held up her pinkie with a playful grin.
"Promise," I said, linking mine with hers.
She laughed, and for a fleeting second, her smile reminded me of Lauren.
That same warmth. That same light
***
Kayla's POV
***
We walked out of the music store together.
He wasn't anything like the man I thought he was.
"I really enjoyed this," I said, smiling. "Bye."
"Wait," he said. "Let me drop you off."
"Are you taking the bus too?" I teased.
"No," he said, pointing toward the parking lot. "I'm riding that."
My eyes widened. "The blue Porsche?"
He nodded.
"You're joking!" I laughed.
"I'm serious."
My jaw dropped. "You drive a Porsche—and you still want me to pay for the car repair?"
"I never asked you to," he said with that cold little smile before walking to the car.
"Mister!" I called after him.
"Logan," he corrected. "My name's Logan."
"For real, you drive a Porsche?" I shook my head in disbelief.
He smiled faintly. "If you're really serious about paying me back, then… play the cello whenever something like that happens again."
Something like that? Did he mean the attack—the panic? Does it happen often?
"Alright," I said softly. "Then we'll be even."
"Get in," he said.
I hesitated, then smiled and climbed in.
Never had I imagined sitting in such an expensive car. Everything felt smooth, quiet—almost unreal.
He drove me home, and the ride felt too short.
The car stopped in front of my building, and we both stepped out.
"My house is on the second floor," I said. "Thanks for the ride."
He nodded. "Anytime."
***
Authors POV
***
He watched her climb the stairs, her laughter faint but clear.
For a brief moment, peace filled the air—until she turned to wave one last time.
That was when he heard it again.
The voice.
"Save me, brother… please…"
Logan froze, his chest tightening painfully.
"Not again… please, not her voice"
Kayla, just about to open her door, stopped and looked back. The street was quiet, the only thing she saw was the blue Porsche parked by the curb.
"Where did he go?" she murmured, frowning.
Something didn't feel right.
She let go of the doorknob and ran back down the stairs.
Her heart dropped when she saw him lying on the pavement, clutching his chest.
"Logan!" she screamed, rushing to his side.
"What happened?" she cried, kneeling beside him. His breathing was shallow, uneven—like he was fighting to stay conscious.
Without thinking, Kayla took his hand.
His fingers tightened around hers, and slowly, his breathing began to steady.
Then, weakly, he pulled her closer, his voice trembling.
"Stay… please don't leave me."
Kayla's heart ached. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "I won't."
His lips curved faintly as his eyes fluttered shut.
A single tear slid down his cheek, glistening under the dim streetlight.