I’ll break the news to her when we get back home. I don’t want fear to overshadow the weekend we shared together. I’ll tell her tomorrow. For now, my priority is to get her home safe.
It’s evening when our flight lands home in Minneapolis. It’s been a long day of travel. I slept briefly on the plane, but the rest wasn’t satisfying—not enough to make up for all the late nights with Logan.
I stare at the suitcases like a zombie as they go round and round on the baggage claim carousel. “You’re going to stay at my place tonight,” he says.
“I need to go to my house. I don’t have any clean clothes . . . and I need sleep. I’m so tired.”
“I am too,” he says. “I’ll do your laundry. You can wear something of mine to bed. I promise, you can go straight to bed when we get home.”
When we get home, as if I live there or something.
I point a finger at him. “No late-night canoodling.”
He smiles. “Canoodling?”
“Whatever, I’m tired. Words are hard.”
“Butcanoodlingwas on the tip of your tongue?”
I disregard his teasing and narrow my gaze at him, signing “No sex” to him.
“Heavy petting,” he signs in a counter.
A smile threatens to show through the serious face I’m putting on. My index and middle finger pinch together with my thumb. “I mean it, Logan. Tonight, sleeping together is literal.”
He holds up both of his hands in concession.
I text Jordan from the baggage claim carousel and let her know we’ll be home soon so she can head out, along with a big thank-you for housesitting and watching Odin while we were gone. It takes a while for the four of us to get our luggage, but eventually, we split off from Casper and Thor to head home. We’re both exhausted from a weekend of too much interaction, too much caffeine, and too little sleep.
His loft is shrouded in shadows when we arrive, lit only by the lights of the city shining through the window, casting an orange glow. It smells like Logan, familiar and calming. Even theclick-clackof Odin’s paws on the aged wood floors is comforting. Logan takes our luggage to the back corner of the loft near the kitchen and unzips the bags, then begins loading dirty clothes into the washer. I unpack our water bottles, washing them at the sink, and tucking any snacks we didn’t eat on the plane back into the cabinets. By the time I’m finished, Logan is carrying the empty suitcases upstairs, and I hear him start the shower soon after.
It’s then I realize we’re moving in sync. No rush, no words, just the soft rhythm of us existing in the same space, like we’ve done it for years. I pause to savor the moment, and a smile blooms on my lips.
Odin whines, pulling me from my amusement, and I snatch his leash. Just need the keys so I can get back in. They aren’t in their usual spot. Logan probably left them in his pocket. I callup to him, but he doesn’t hear me. He must already be in the shower. Hurrying up the stairs, I find his jeans strewn on the floor and reach into the pockets.
I have a copy of his house key, but the security fob to access the exterior door is a separate thing. My fingers quickly find the cold metal key ring and fish it out, and with it falls a wrinkled piece of paper. A receipt? I pick it up and unfold it.
You will never replace me.
It looks like all the others, typed in a plain font. But this one is different; it’s so much more threatening when there’s not a screen between me and it. My heart gallops in my chest.Where the hell did this come from and why does Logan have it in his pocket?
Odin whines again. I set the note on the dresser and grab the keys to take him out.
By the time I return from taking Odin for a walk around the block, feeding him dinner, and coming up with my own theories regarding the messages, I hear Logan stepping out of the shower. Before climbing the stairs, I double-check the locks on his door. I’m not sure how to begin this conversation, but I won’t be able to sleep until we discuss the piece of paper I found in his pocket. The note is still where I left it. I pick it up and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at it. The online messages were one thing, but this is fucked up. I assumed this was Jason trying to mess with me, but Bozeman? That doesn’t make sense.
Steam pours out of the bathroom when Logan emerges shirtless with a towel tied low around his waist. His stride halts when he notices what I’m holding.
“Is this why you wanted me to stay the night?” I ask, studying the words on the paper, wishing they would evaporate.
Logan sighs. “It was on the windshield this morning when we were loading up the van.”
“In Bozeman?”
He turns his head, his palm working the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs. “You were in such a good mood talking to Thor, we were about to get on a flight, I didn’t want to stress you out. I wasn’t hiding it, I planned on showing you tomorrow.”
