FREYA CARTER
The moment the elevator doors closed behind Logan, the suite felt larger.
Quieter.
But not lighter.
I stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring down at the lake stretching wide and silver beneath the pale afternoon sky. Boats moved like tiny brushstrokes across the water. Snow-dusted rooftops lined the edges of the city, and beyond them, mountains rose like something painted rather than real.
It was breathtaking.Different from home. I pressed my palm lightly against the cool glass.
Rowan didn’t answer immediately. I could hear him behind me , the soft rustle of his jacket being set aside, the faint vibration of his phone already coming to life with notifications.
Of course.
He joined me a moment later, stopping just behind my shoulder. Close enough that I could
