I shook my head. “No. Just taking a breath.”
He exhaled, the faintest hint of relief loosening his shoulders. “Then take what you need.” Though when he said the words this time, the feeling was so different.
I stepped closer, close enough to smell the faint scent of soap on his shirt, close enough to feel his breath.
“I’ll call you,” I said.
He nodded, eyes locked on mine. “I’ll be here.”
With my brain choosing to abandon me, all I could think about was air.
I rose onto my toes and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t goodbye.
It was soft and slow and full of everything I didn’t have the courage to say yet.
When I pulled back, he still hadn’t moved, just looked at me like he wanted to memorize every detail.
“Goodnight,” I whispered.
“Goodnight, Darlin’.”
I turned, grabbed my bag, and walked out before I could change my mind.
The air outside was cool, the evening settling in quiet and gold.
And as I slid into my car, I looked back once, to see him still standing in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, watching me.
Chapter 42
Logan
After Dani left, the house didn’t rush to fill the space she’d taken with her.
Instead, the house felt… held.
Not empty. Not echoing. Just paused.
I stood in the doorway longer than necessary, long after her blue Bronco pulled away and the sound of it faded into the neighborhood. The evening light had settled over the patio and sand. Normally, this was the moment the peace crept in, followed by the sharp, hollow absence that reminded me of everything that wasn’t there anymore.
I closed the door and leaned my forehead against it for a second, eyes shut, letting the weight of the day finally land. My chest felt tight, but not in the way that signaled panic or loss. It was the kind of tightness that came with restraint—like I was gripping the edge of something solid, steadying myself before moving forward.
I knew Harper’s words had scared her off.
They’d scared me too.
Not because I didn’t trust Dani, if anything, it was the opposite. The fear hadn’t come from doubt. It came from recognition. From the way something I’d been fighting to keepcontained had been named out loud by a six-year-old who didn’t know how to soften truth or hedge it with caution.
I felt it the second Harper said it, felt myself fumbling for the right words, the safest words. I wasn’t trying to correct her. I was trying to slow the moment down. Trying to protect everyone in the car from the weight of a realization that had arrived too fast.
Because Harper had seen it.
She’d seen what I’d been refusing to look at directly.
Dani’s place here wasn’t as a replacement or a role being filled because timing made it convenient. No, she fit. In an undeniable way. Dani didn’t disrupt our lives. She aligned with them. Slid into the spaces that already existed without forcing them wider or smaller.
