Abby held her breath, her gaze glued to the silvery water as the first boat appeared around the cape.
Draped in twinkling lights, the fishing rig looked otherworldly as it floated across the bay, followed by a procession of equally adorned boats in every shape and size, from small dinghies to impressive yachts.
The soothing crash of waves and crackling logs in the firepits filled the silence until the first bell rang.
Then another.
And another.
Soon, Abby made out the melody of “Silent Night” as it echoed across the water.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her throat suddenly tight as she beheld the bell ringers on the bows of each boat.
Moved by the beautiful sight and sound, she swept aside an unexpected tear before resting her palm on the blanket beside her. She accidentally grazed Logan’s hand and her heartbeat stammered at the startling connection, like a sudden bolt of electricity.
Had he noticed?
Before she could steal a glance in his direction, his hand found hers in the darkness.
Without consulting her better judgment, her fingers acted on impulse, lacing through his until their palms melded together.
All of her fear and objections from mere moments ago slipped into the moonlit shadows, leaving nothing but peace.
The soulful carol of the bells and breathtaking lights shimmering across the water seemed to encapsulate them in a sphere of beauty and tranquility.
One she never wanted to leave.
Logan traced gentle circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, and her breathing slowed to a delicate hum.
Was this really happening?
She felt something in Logan’s touch, euphoric yet secure, both weightless and grounded in something real.
Why did it feel so safe, so inviting?
She should resist, should pull her hand away.
And yet, for the first time, she didn’t want to….
Tonight, she simply wanted to be.
Logan wasn’t sure what had made him reach for Abby’s hand, but he was glad he did.
And even more grateful when she didn’t pull away.
He relished the pressure of her palm against his, the way their fingers entwined together like a custom fit.
Although her skin was soft, her hands weren’t without calluses, and he remembered something his grandfather used to say.
A woman’s eyes reflect her heart, but her hands reveal her character.
He thought of the scrapes and bruises she’d received rescuing Max from the tree. She hadn’t complained about them once.
Other than his grandmother—and what little of his mother he remembered—Logan had never met a woman like Abby.
And the real, in-person version, with faults and honest struggles, was even more captivating than the flawless woman from the photograph.
He stole a glance at her profile, watching the delicate wisps of hair flutter in the wind, gently caressing her face.
The bond between Donnie and Abby had been so strong, so complete, did he really think he stood a chance? And what if all he had to offer her wasn’t enough?
He’d told her about his injury, but did she really understand what it meant? The toll it could take on her, on them?
What about his vow to never get close to anyone again?
His gaze fell to their clasped hands, hidden in the shadows between them.
Clearly, he’d forgotten all about the promise he’d made to himself when everything in his life fell apart.
At the time, he’d been convinced it was a selfless decision, in the best interest of those around him.
In reality, he’d been protecting his own heart. Could he handle being rejected and abandoned again?
He closed his eyes, remembering the afternoon Kelli ended their engagement.
She’d stood by his hospital bed, wearing the red dress he’d always liked.
“I can’t do this.” Her eyes had filled with tears, making them look even bluer than usual. “Maybe, if the doctors were sure you’d get better, we could make things work. But they’re not sure, Logan.”
She’d emphasized his name, as though he hadn’t been paying attention and somehow missed his own diagnosis.
He’d stared impassively out the window, watching a squirrel stuff an acorn into a knot in the tree trunk. For some reason, he wanted to tell the squirrel not to bother, that he might as well eat it now.
“I do love you, you know.” She’d sniffled loudly at that part, dabbing her finger under her lash line even though she hadn’t shed a tear yet. Her eyes had merely glistened, accentuating her wistful gaze without ruining her makeup.
“I’m just not cut out to be with someone like you.”
The knife in his heart had twisted with that little zinger. As if he hadn’t already felt worthless, she’d confirmed it.
“If you get better, and I’m still single, call me.” She’d kissed him on the cheek then, searing his skin with her bloodred lipstick.
Funny how quickly people could change. Or maybe she’d simply revealed her true colors—the ones he hadn’t wanted to see.
Opening his eyes, he stole another glance at Abby.
In some ways, he knew her better than he’d ever known Kelli. His ex had been a woman afraid of flaws, uncomfortable with being transparent or vulnerable. But she’d put so much effort into the appearance of perfection, their relationship never went beyond the superficial. Which meant their roots weren’t deep enough to sustain heavy wind or rain.
His thumb gently grazed a callus on Abby’s palm, and heat traveled up his arm.
He had no doubt that Abby was different.
And whatever the cost—to his heart or his pride—Abby was worth it.