Logan’s smile is gentle. “Then we’ll do it again.”
I swallow. “Logan?—”
He cuts me off with a light tone, like he can hear the emotion building and wants to keep it from tipping us over. “Don’t make it weird.”
I blink. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You were,” he says, eyes dancing.
I glare, but he’s right.
After lunch, he takes me somewhere else that feels like he built it specifically for me—an easy walk along a quiet coastal path, not the crowded beach, not the loud boardwalk. Just ocean air, sun on skin, and the sound of waves that makes my brain finally shut up.
We stop at a bench overlooking the water, and Logan sits behind me, legs stretched out, pulling me back between his thighs like it’s natural.
Like we’re a couple.
Like we’ve always been.
His chin rests on my shoulder. His arms wrap around me, snug but not tight, and he kisses the side of my neck once—soft, slow.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs.
“I’m trying to soak it in,” I whisper.
Logan hums. “Good. Because you deserve it.”
My throat tightens.
He shifts, turning my face slightly with his fingers until I’m looking at him. His eyes are darker in the sunlight, the expression on his face steady. Present.
He kisses me then—no desperation, no fear. Just a kiss that saysI’m here, I’m staying, this is real.
I melt into it without thinking. Without bracing.
When we pull apart, I rest my forehead against his, breathing him in.
Part of me feels like us spending this day together, trying to forget the heartache at home, is selfish. As if we’re taking something that doesn’t belong to us.
“This feels selfish in a way,” I admit quietly. “Letting myself be happy when I know he’s sitting at home.”
Logan’s thumb strokes my cheek. “It’s not selfish to take care of yourself. You can’t keep pouring when your own cup is empty.”
My eyes sting, but I blink it away.
We stay there a while, letting the ocean do what it does—move forward no matter what.
Eventually, the sun shifts, and Logan checks his phone, then looks at me. “You want to head back home?”
My stomach twists instinctively, because back means reality.
But then Logan adds, softly, “Or…we can keep it going.”
I blink. “How?”
He smirks. “Movie at the football house. Takeout? You can steal my hoodie and pretend it was an accident.”
“I would never,” I say, offended.
