Tommy forces a nod even though his pulse has started to sprint.
He tries to speak and realizes his voice might shake.
So he doesn’t.
He slides his hand under the table instead, fingers searching blindly until they find Logan’s.
Logan takes him immediately.
No hesitation.
No questions asked.
Tommy squeezes once, hard.
Logan squeezes back, steady.
Tommy focused on that pressure, on the steady warmth of Logan’s palm anchoring him while his body felt suddenly unfamiliar, too aware, too responsive, reacting faster than his thoughts could catch up.
It wasn’t pain.
That was the strange part.
It was heat. Fullness. A slow, involuntary shift inside him that made his breath hitch despite himself.
His body was opening.
Responding.
And the realization hit all at once.
“Oh,” he whispered under his breath, mortified understanding flooding in.
Logan leaned closer immediately. “Talk to me.”
Tommy swallowed, keeping his voice barely audible. “I think it, moved.”
Logan didn’t react outwardly. Didn’t tense. Didn’t panic.
He just nodded once.
“Okay,” he said softly. “That’s okay.”
Across the table, Chase’s gaze sharpened, reading the exchange without needing words.
Tommy stared down at his plate, face burning.
“I didn’t mean to…” he started.
Logan squeezed his hand again.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Nothing went wrong.”
The calm certainty in his voice slowed Tommy’s spiraling thoughts just enough for him to breathe again.
Logan glanced toward the server station, then back at Tommy.
“We’re gonna head out,” he said quietly. “No rush. No scene.”
