Lynn's POV
I know that voice.
I know it the way I know my own heartbeat — before my mind even registers what my ears have heard, something deep in my chest has already answered. My whole body turns before I decide to turn.
Logan.
He stands in the entrance of the banquet hall, framed by the tall doorway like he's always supposed to be there. The light catches the sharp lines of his face, and the breath goes out of me completely. He looks tired — the kind of tired that lives underneath the skin, carved into the hollows beneath his eyes, etched into the slight tension around his jaw. His brown hair falls a little out of place. There's a pallor to him that wasn't there before, the faint signature of days spent somewhere between here and gone. But he is still — God, he is still so devastati
