“But why?” I ask the question that’s been haunting me since he brought me here. “You barely know me.”
“I know that you don’t deserve the way you’ve been treated,” he says simply. “No one deserves to be treated like that. I’m going to help you because I can. Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“I can’t give you anything,” I start, my voice cracking. “I don’t have money. I’m not ready for…”
He rubs my shoulder gently, cutting me off. “Shh. I don’t need anything from you. I’m helping you because I want to, and because I want you to feel safe. You don’t owe me anything, and I’m not expecting anything.”
I let this sink in, trying to understand it. It doesn’t make sense. In my experience, people always want something. There’s always a price.
“I really can’t give you anything,” I say again, needing him to understand.
“I promise you that I really don’t need you to,” he says firmly. “This isn’t about that. Okay?”
I nod, my voice breaking. “Okay.”
I’m still shaken from the dream. I can still smell that cologne, can still feel that paralyzing fear.
“I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through,” Logan says quietly, “but I want you to know that whatever you need, we’ll make sure you get it. But for now, I’m offering the one thing I can—a safe place for you to be while everything gets figured out.”
I nod again, not trusting my voice.
“Can I get you anything right now?” he asks. “A glass of water? Some tea?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. But…” I pause, embarrassed to ask. “If you could just stay with me until I fall back asleep, I’d appreciate it.”
“That is something I can absolutely do,” he says without hesitation.
I sink back into my pillow, and Logan settles beside me on top of the covers—a steady, gentle, kind presence. Not crowding me, not demanding anything, just there.
His hand continues its slow, soothing path up and down my arm, and gradually, my breathing evens out. My heart rate slows. The terror from the nightmare begins to fade, replaced by the steady warmth of safety.
With Logan beside me, I’m eventually able to forget the nightmare. My body, exhausted from the adrenaline crash, finally surrenders.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I fall asleep feeling safe.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
LOGAN
Yesterday was a long, exhausting day for everyone involved—but probably most of all for Tessa. After the girls left last night, she showered and went straight to bed.
She woke up screaming around two in the morning. The sound was heartbreaking. I stayed with her until she fell back asleep, sitting on the bed beside her for an additional hour until I felt sure her nightmare wasn’t coming back.
It’s 11 a.m. now, and she still hasn’t come out of the bedroom. I have no doubt she needed the sleep.
I skipped the gym this morning, wanting to be here when she woke up.
Beatrice has been extra needy all morning, pacing between the couch and the hallway, almost like she’s waiting for Tessa too. Right now she’s curled up on my lap, her purr a steady rumble against my thigh.
I scroll mindlessly through my streaming services, trying to find something worth watching, but nothing holds my attention. The remote clicks as I flip through options—action movies,documentaries, comedies—but my mind keeps drifting to the closed bedroom door down the hall.
I scratch Beatrice behind the ear, and she purrs louder, nuzzling her smushed face closer to me. I kiss the top of her head absently.
After a while, I hear the soft creak of a door opening. Footsteps pad down the hallway.
Tessa finally emerges into the living room, and I look up.
