And then—Logan glanced toward the bed.
For a breathless second, he could almost see young Adrian again, sprawled on his stomach, half-buried in the sheets, hair mussed and mouth curved in that sleepy smirk. Murmuring something about Logan’s snoring. Teasing, soft, full of love.
Like nothing had ever gone wrong.
Like nothing bad had ever happened.
Logan swallowed hard.
The golden-haired figure stirred.
“Jay,” Logan whispered the name of his heartbeat, as he sat on the edge of the bed and gently brushed the tousled strands from his face.
Big green eyes blinked open—sleepy and unfocused at first, then slowly warming, brightening. They looked up at him like he was home.
“Good morning, my love,” Logan murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
Jay stretched with a small groan, then his arms wound around Logan’s waist as he pressed his cheek against his chest, clinging like a sleepy barnacle. That familiar, wordless affection undid him every time. Logan closed his eyes and just breathed him in.
“Are we going to surf?” Jay asked, his voice still raspy with sleep.
Logan let out a quiet laugh, his fingers combing gently through the soft gold of his hair. “Of course. But breakfast first,” he said.
Jay groaned dramatically, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Why don’t you brush your teeth, and I’ll make you something?” Logan offered.
Jay nodded with a sleepy hum and peeled himself away, slow and heavy-limbed, vanishing into the little bathroom with the sound of bare feet padding across the wooden floor.
Logan sat there for a moment longer, the room quiet again.
Exhaling, he dragged a hand over his face, fingertips brushing the corners of eyes that had weathered so many storms. His heart still ached, an ache that had settled into him long ago, a quiet companion he no longer tried to silence. It would never truly leave him, and that was a truth he had come to accept.
But sitting here now, in this cabin by the sea, with the gentle rhythm of another breath beside him and sunlight stretching across the floor like a blessing, he knew he was no longer alone.
Four years ago, he had believed grief would consume him whole. That it would pull him under like the riptide he once feared more than death. But love—God, love—had found a way to rise.
It had clawed its way back to him, even when he had stopped searching.
It had pulled him out of the dark.
It had brought him here.
Back to where everything had begun. Back to where Adrian had saved him, not just from the sea, but from himself.
He gazed out the window, where the waves crashed in a rhythmic dance, their wild melodies echoing softly against the glass. They moved with the same untamed, relentless spirit as on that first day. He watched the surf swell and fold, watched the light break across the water’s back. The streams of water that had nearly taken him had also given him everything.
He stepped into the tiny kitchen. The air was thick with salt and morning, and something in it made his chest ache in that sweet, familiarway. He reached for the bowls, hands moving on instinct, quiet and sure. Cereal spilled against porcelain, followed by milk. He placed two spoons beside the bowls, the clink of silver gentle.
Footsteps padded softly across the floor.
Jay emerged from the hallway, sleep still clinging to his lashes, his golden hair a chaotic crown. Without a word, he climbed into the chair and began eating like he was making up for lost time.
Logan watched him, a quiet smile spreading across his lips, slow and full of wonder.
Jay.Jay was Logan’s heartbeat in another body.
There was an abundance within him, a hidden beauty behind those soulful green eyes that had witnessed so much. They reminded Logan of a hazy sunrise, often masked by clouds yet always glowing, like sunbeams awaiting to warm a distant shore. His laughter came like thunder sometimes, his joy sudden and bright, his tears fast and whole. He was chaos and sunlight.
