In Logan’s room. In his bed.
The sheets were warm and tangled around me, unfamiliar enough to make my chest tighten, but not in a way that felt wrong. Just… new. My body felt anchored, weighted by the serene aftermath of something real, something chosen. I turned slightly and found him beside me, still asleep, sprawled on his back, one arm stretched above his head, the other resting where I’d been, like even in sleep he’d reached for me and expected me to still be there.
He looked different in the morning. Softer. Younger. The tension that usually lived in his features had eased, his mouth no longer set in that careful, guarded line. I let myself study him longer than I should have, something in my chest shifting as the night before settled into something clearer—not regret, not panic, just awareness. A quiet understanding that what hadhappened between us hadn’t been impulsive or accidental. It had been a step forward.
And for once, I didn’t feel the need to over-analyze it.
The soft sound of movement down the hall broke through the stillness—bare feet against hardwood, a faint, off-key hum that was unmistakably Harper. The shift was immediate. My heart jumped, adrenaline hitting fast and sharp as reality snapped back into place. I bolted upright, the sheet tangling around my legs as I scrambled for my clothes, tugging on my shirt and stepping into leggings with hands that weren’t quite steady.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, already halfway off the bed.
“Dani?” Logan stirred beside me, his voice rough with sleep, confusion giving way quickly to awareness as he pushed himself upright, the sheet slipping down with him.
“Logan,” I hissed, my voice urgent. “She’s up.”
That woke him fully.
He sat up fast, and I froze—not because of the situation, but because of him. Shirtless, grey sweats sitting low on his hips, his skin warm in the morning light, hair still tousled from sleep in a way that felt unfair. My gaze lingered a second too long, taking him in before I could stop myself.
And of course, he noticed.
That slow smirk curved at the corner of his mouth. “Eyes up, Counselor,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the bedroom door flew open before I could.
“Daddy!” Harper rushed in, stopping short mid-step. “I can’t find my—”
She froze.
Her eyes flicked between us—the bed, Logan sitting there unbothered, me half dressed, my skin prickling under the weight of the moment.
Logan didn’t hesitate.
“Hey, bug,” he said easily, reaching for a shirt without rushing, his tone calm and steady. “You’re up early.”
“I needed my purple socks,” she said, still studying the room with curious focus. “Why is Dani here?”
Every instinct in me tightened, bracing for something to unravel.
“She stayed over,” Logan said simply. No hesitation. No over-explaining. Just truth. “Sometimes grown-ups do that.”
Harper nodded immediately, accepting it without question. “Okay.”
Relief hit so fast it nearly knocked the breath out of me, the panic draining from my chest as quickly as it had built.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“Very.”
“Go find those socks,” he said. “I’ll make pancakes.”
“Chocolate chips?”
He sighed. “You’re pushin’ it.”
She laughed and darted back down the hall, the door swinging shut behind her.
The silence that followed felt louder than before.
