It felt like stepping into something that already had space for me.
And the worst part?
I didn’t want to question it.
I wanted to stay right where I was.
Chapter 12
Dani
Iwoke up the next morning disoriented.
Not in thewhere am Iway—more like themy body doesn’t remember how it got here. The bed was firm but comfortable, the sheets cool against my legs, the faint sound of seagulls drifting in through a cracked window. For a split second, my brain reached for muscle memory that wasn’t mine.
And then my alarm went off again, angry and insistent. Not a gentle nudge. Not a soft chime. Just full-blown, you’re already late energy, buzzing from my phone on the nightstand.
I groaned and rolled onto my back, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling while my brain caught up and I slapped the alarm off.
Once I was finally ready to wake, I glanced at my phone, before groaning silently and sinking my face into the pillow. I hadn’t slept deeply. Too many thoughts. Too manywhat-ifs.
Unable to avoid waking up any longer, I pushed myself up, ran a hand through my hair, and twisted it into a messy bun at the crown of my head. Then I slipped out of bed, bare feet padding softly across the floor.
As I walked out of the room and into the dim hallway, I instinctively followed the smell of coffee, rounding the cornerwithout looking. One second, I was sleepily walking through a still house, the next, I was yelping, hands flying up, before colliding with Logan’s chest.
“Whoa—” he said at the same time. His hands came up fast, catching my arms before I could bounce backward. I hit him fully, momentum carrying me until my back brushed the counter behind me, and his body followed, close enough that my breath stuttered.
Close enough that I noticed everything: the warmth of him, the solid muscle of his chest, the smell of coffee and soap and something unmistakably Logan. And the way his face hovered just above mine.
For half a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then there was the faintest twitch in his thumb, a small tremor that somehow felt amplified in the stillness. My pulse thudded loudly in my ears, a relentless rhythm that filled the pause, heightening the moment before either of us could react.
His palms stayed on my arms—not gripping, not pulling away.
“Oh,” I breathed, heart stuttering. “Hi.”
“Morning,” he said. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
His voice was lower than last night. Rougher. Like he’d been awake for a while already.
“I—yeah,” I said, though my pulse was doing absolutely unhinged things. “Sorry. I didn’t expect company.”
“It is my kitchen,” he said dryly.
I huffed out a small laugh, more breath than sound. “Right.”
Still, neither of us moved.
Eventually, his hands settled lightly on the cool marble counter on either side of me, not touching, but close enough that I felt pinned in a way I didn’t at all mind. It was like he was bracing himself as much as I was.
The air between us thickened, causing my brain, traitorous thing that it was, to take inventory of the loose T-shirt on him that tightened around his biceps, and me in an oversized sleep shirt I definitely hadn’t planned for him to see.
He glanced away briefly, his eyes catching the early light of dawn streaming in through the window. The layered green in his gaze seemed to shift under the sun’s glare. Dark circles shadowed beneath them, like sleep had been optional at best. His jaw was rough with stubble, his hair mussed in a way that felt unfairly intimate for six in the morning.
He looked worn, but not in a way that made him less attractive.
“I made coffee,” he said after a moment, like he was tossing out a lifeline. “Didn’t know how you take it.”
