The way Logan’s voice gentled when he spoke to her, even while trying to stay firm. The way his hands moved carefully when he tied her shoe at brunch, letting her mock his awful bow without breaking his practiced patience in his expression. There was something unwavering about him, something forged in the kind of loss that rebuilds a person but doesn’t hollow them. And Harper… she was the thread of that love that remained untouched. The piece that endured.
I drew a slow breath and rubbed my tired face.
What was I doing?
Even considering stepping into their world, even briefly, felt irresponsible. Unprofessional.
Emotions I had trained myself for years to suppress surged. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that stayed with me after she’d asked,Can you stay with me?
It surprised me that, despite my hesitation, a part of me had wanted to say yes. Not because I believed I could fix anything. I knew better than that. But because something in me recognized what she really wanted—not solutions, not answers, just someone present. Just someone willing to stay with her.
And maybe, just maybe, I understood that more than I wanted to admit.
The stove clock read 12:03 before I finally noticed how long I’d sat there. I sat there in my living room feeling the decision settle before I could talk myself out of it.
Tomorrow, I’d call Logan.
I’d ask how serious things were. Offer carefully, without overstepping.
Not because I owed him anything.
But because the look in that little girls eyes as she asked me to promise completely undid me, and I didn’t have the heart to let her down.
Chapter 10
Logan
Ididn’t sleep much last night.
Harper had crawled into my bed around midnight, after another round of tears. Soon after, she fell asleep with her hand on my chest. Her little fingers curled tight around mine, as if she was afraid I’d vanish while she dreamed.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling the pressure of being her whole world. Nights like this made Elena’s absence hit hard. I remembered how she would hold her pregnant belly, whisper reassurances, and her laughter would fill the room. Missing those moments reminded me just how much was gone, leaving a void I still couldn’t fill.
Elena had been good at pretending.
People don’t often say how strong women minimize their pain so no one else has to carry it.
She smiled that morning. Said she was tired and her feet were swollen from pregnancy. She waved me off when I offered to call the doctor, rolled her eyes, and told me to stop hovering.
“You’re gonna make me anxious,” she’d said, laughing as she reached for my hand.
I should’ve listened to my gut. I should’ve noticed how pale she was, how she kept blinking like the room wouldn’t stay still,how she pressed her fingers into the counter, needing something solid to hold her up. And I will always hold the guilt of not having done something when I could.
That afternoon, I had left base early and went home. I still don’t know why. I just remember this tight feeling in my chest, the kind that doesn’t let you think your way out of it. The house was unnaturally still when I walked in. No music. No Elena baking away in the kitchen.
Instead, I found her on the bathroom floor, sick, sweating, and confused. She looked at me like she didn’t quite recognize me, and that was the moment everything inside me went cold and sharp.
“I don’t feel right,” she whispered.
I remember my hands shaking as I grabbed my phone. I remember talking to the operator like I was giving a briefing. My voice was clear, controlled, and efficient, because panic wouldn’t help her. Panic never helped anyone.
Eclampsia, they said later. Severe. It was as if her blood pressure had become a ticking time bomb, set to explode at any moment, and it escalated fast.
They put her into an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital for help. It was chaos when we arrived. The hospital lights were too bright. Doctors moving quickly, voices overlapping. Someone explaining risks like I wasn’t already drowning in them.
They told me she needed an emergency C-section. I nodded. Signed whatever they put in front of me. Stood where they told me to stand. I did everything right.
And for a moment, it felt like it was going to be okay. Harper cried when she came out, her lungs strong. She was two weeks early but rushed in pink and furious at the world.
