“You didn’t have to bring anything,” he said behind me, nodding toward my bag.
“It’s not much,” I replied easily. “But I like to be prepared.”
A low, noncommittal sound was all I got back.
I shouldn’t have noticed the way his gruffness settled over me, not as a slight but as something grounding. Strangely, I liked the rough edges, their honesty. There was comfort in knowing exactly where I stood with him.
Harper appeared a second later, before the silence could stretch too far.
“Dani!”
She ran straight into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist.
“Hey, superstar.” I laughed, reflexively catching her and holding her close.
“I missed you,” she said, like it was obvious.
“I missed you, too.”
And I meant it.
She pulled back to inspect me, eyes narrowing. “You look fancy.”
I glanced down. “Give it an hour.”
Behind us, Logan made a sound—almost a laugh, rough and barely there. I felt it more than I heard it. And for a second, I wanted to turn around. To catch it. To see if it softened him the way it felt like it did.
I didn’t.
Because wanting to catch a man’s almost-laugh was not something I was doing, not tonight, and not with him.
“Okay,” he said, stepping back into that controlled tone like it was second nature. “I’ll walk you through everything.”
I straightened a little without meaning to. Like I needed to prove something before he’d even started.
I raised a brow. “Everything?”
“It’s just bedtime,” he said quickly, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Just bedtime,” I repeated, watching him now.
He nodded once. “Dinner will be ready when you get here. Bath’s at seven-thirty, not later. She likes the water really warm. Bedtime by eight-fifteen—she likes one story, sometimes two if she’s had a good day.”
“Strict schedule, huh?”
He stopped.
I leaned against the counter, studying him—not his words but the way he said them. He held himself so tightly, as if losing control meant something might slip. For a moment, his hand tightened on the edge, and his knuckles turned almost white. The flicker of worry was there, raw and unguarded, until he built the wall back up.
“You’re acting like I’m going to mess this up,” I said gently.
Even though part of me wondered whether he might have a point. Maybe I was taking on more than I could handle, ormaybe I was just doubting myself. Either way, I was already cataloging it all, mentally repeating it back. Seven-thirty. Warm water. One story, maybe two. I couldn’t afford to get it wrong. I didn’t want to get it wrong. Not with Harper, and not in front of him.
“I didn’t say that,” he said, although there was little confidence or reassurance in his tone.
“You didn’t have to.”
There was a pause, and his gaze held mine longer this time. “I just want her to have consistency,” he said.
