“You don’t have to earn being loved,” he says, low.
I scoff, because if I let that land, I’ll fall apart. “Are you quoting a self-help book now?”
“No,” Logan says. “I’m talking.”
My throat goes dry.
I clutch the ball like it can keep me upright. “You shouldn’t.”
His gaze drops briefly to my hands, then back to my eyes. “Why?”
“Because everything is—” My voice catches. I shove it down hard. “Because it’s bad timing.”
Logan’s mouth twitches, almost sad. “There’s never going to be good timing.”
I laugh once, sharp. “Cameron will murder you.”
Logan nods like that’s a known fact. “Probably.”
“And I’ll let him,” I mutter, but my voice shakes.
Logan’s gaze holds mine. “Do you want me to go inside?”
I could say yes.
Ishouldsay yes.
But I don’t.
My voice barely works. “No.”
Logan’s eyes go dark.
He doesn’t move fast. He just closes the last inch of space slowly—like he’s giving me every chance to back out.
His hand lifts, hovering near my waist.
Waiting. Asking.
I swallow hard and nod once.
That’s all it takes.
Logan’s hand settles on my hip, warm through my hoodie, steady. Not grabbing. Just anchoring.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
Slow.
Hot in a way that makes my knees want to fold.
Not frantic like the first time—no shock, no surprise.
This one is chosen.
Wanted.
His mouth moves against mine with a controlled kind of hunger that makes my brain go blank. His thumb presses lightly at my hip, pulling me closer, and my hands, the traitors they are,slide up his chest and curl into his hoodie like I need something solid.
