C3 The Night Everything Broke

Skylar barely made it to the elevator before her hands started shaking.

She jabbed the button for the marketing floor, the doors sliding shut just as Victoria’s throaty laugh echoed down the hallway behind her. The mirrored walls reflected Skylar’s flushed cheeks, wide hazel eyes, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She pressed her back against the cool metal rail, sucking in deep breaths that smelled faintly of Logan’s cologne still clinging to the air.

Twelve years.

Twelve years, and he looked at her like she was the one who’d ruined him.

The elevator dinged. She stepped out into the familiar buzz of her floor, heels clicking faster than usual as she beelined for her desk. Her inbox was already flooding with follow-ups from the meeting, but she couldn’t focus. Not yet.

She dropped into her chair, stared at the blank screen for a long moment, then let her head fall into her hands.

And just like that, the memory hit her—sharp, vivid, unstoppable.

Twelve years ago.

The summer air was thick with the scent of cut grass and barbecue smoke drifting from backyards. Thirteen-year-old Skylar sat on the wooden fence between their houses, legs swinging, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. Her auburn hair was in messy pigtails, knees scabbed from biking too fast.

Logan—fifteen, already tall and lanky, with the same dark hair and green eyes that hadn’t changed—climbed up beside her. He smelled like sunscreen and the cherry popsicles they’d shared earlier.

“Hey, Sky… don’t cry,” he said softly, nudging her shoulder with his. His voice cracked a little; he hated when she cried.

“They’re fighting again,” she whispered, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Dad threw a plate. Mom’s screaming about leaving him.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. He reached over and took her hand, threading their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I heard it. Whole block probably heard it.”

Skylar turned to him, eyes red-rimmed. “What if she really does it this time? What if we move?”

He squeezed her hand tighter. “Then I’ll come with you.”

“You can’t. You’re fifteen.”

“I’ll run away. Steal my dad’s car, he has too many anyways,Whatever it takes.” He bumped her knee with his. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Sky.”

She managed a watery laugh. “Promise?”

He held up his pinky. “Pinky swear. Best friends forever. No matter what.”

She hooked her pinky around his. “Forever.”

They sat like that until the sun dipped low, fireflies blinking on around them. He told her dumb jokes until she stopped crying. When her mom finally called her inside, Logan walked her to the back door and hugged her—awkward, too-tight, the kind only kids give when they mean it with everything they have.

“I’ll always find you,” he whispered against her hair. “Always.”

Three nights later, Skylar woke to shouting that shook the walls. Glass shattered downstairs. Her mom burst into her room, eyes wild, mascara streaked.

“Pack a bag. Now. We’re leaving.”

“Mom, wait—”

“No waiting. Your father’s drunk again. We’re gone.”

Skylar begged to say goodbye to Logan. Just one minute. Please.

Her mom grabbed her arm hard enough to bruise. “He’s a kid, Skylar. He’ll forget you by next week. Get in the car.”

They drove away at 2 a.m. No note left on his porch. No phone number. Nothing.

Skylar cried the entire way out of the state, watching the streetlights blur through tears until she fell asleep against the cold window.

Present day – Apex Global, marketing floor

Skylar jolted back to reality when her phone buzzed on the desk.

A text from Mia:

How’s day one, queen? Spill.

Skylar stared at the screen, thumbs hovering.

She typed:

Ran into someone from the past. Big someone.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Mia:

Good big or bad big?

Skylar:

Complicated big. The kind that makes me want to quit and move to Africa.

Mia:

Pizza and wine just got upgraded to tequila. Be home by 7.

Skylar exhaled a shaky laugh and set the phone down.

Across the open office, a shadow fell over her desk.

She looked up—and froze.

Logan stood there.

Not in the safety of the boardroom with twenty witnesses.

Here.

On her floor.

In a sea of curious coworkers pretending not to stare.

He was even taller up close—broad shoulders blocking the fluorescent light, casting her in shadow. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up now, revealing strong forearms and the edge of a rolex watch. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned.

“We need to talk,” he said, voice low, commanding.

Every head within twenty feet swiveled subtly.

Skylar’s chin lifted. “I’m working.”

“Now, Skylar.”

It wasn’t a request.

Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat.

She stood slowly, grabbing her tablet like a weapon.

“Fine,” she said, voice steady even as everything inside her shook. “But not here.”

His gaze flicked to the glass conference room nearby—empty, blinds half-open.

He turned and walked toward it without waiting.

Skylar followed, feeling every stare on her back, the click of her heels echoing like gunshots.

The door shut behind them with a soft, final thud.

And then it was just the two of them.

Alone.

For the first time in twelve years.