“And what,” I whisper, voice suddenly thin, “you think that makes you…noble?”
Logan’s jaw flexes. “No.”
“Then why,” I push, because if I can make him angry, I can make him familiar. If I can make him mean, I can stop wanting him. “Why are you here?”
Logan’s eyes don’t waver. “Because Pops asked me to be.”
My chest tightens.
That shouldn’t hurt.
It does anyway, because it means Pops sees what I refuse to admit.
It means Pops has been watching us destroy each other and decided he’s tired.
“And because…” Logan adds, quieter.
I hate that my heart kicks.
I hate that I wait.
Logan swallows. “Because Cameron asked me not to leave.”
The knot in my chest shifts—relief and guilt tangled together. Because I don’t want Logan to leave either.
I just don’t know how to let him stay without breaking something.
I take a step back, breath unsteady. “Fine.”
Logan’s brows lift slightly. “Fine?”
“Fine,” I repeat, voice sharper, because that’s safer. “Stay. Drink your stupid coffee. Be…helpful.”
Logan’s mouth twitches. “Okay.”
I glare. “Stop.”
He holds up his hands again. “Sorry.”
Silence settles.
The house hums around us.
The fridge. The clock. Pops’s breathing down the hall.
My body starts to shake again, subtle but real.
Logan notices. Of course he does.
He stands slowly, careful with his knee, and shifts his weight like he’s thinking through every movement.
My spine goes rigid. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he says quickly. “I’m just—” He gestures toward the counter. “You left the cabinet open.”
I blink.
I glance.
