Ava

I stared at the same page of my textbook for what felt like hours. No matter how many times I reread the problem, nothing stuck. My brain was a jumbled mess of formulas, what-ifs, and Logan.

God, Logan.

It had been weeks since I’d heard from him. Weeks of silence. Not a message, not a clue, not even a damn signal that he was okay.

And now, with finals approaching like a freight train, I was expected to function? To memorize entire chapters and formulas when the one person who ...