The door cracked open, and Harper peeked her head in, face glowing with pride. “Good morning, sleepyhead! We made you breakfast inbest!”
“Inbed,” Logan corrected behind her, balancing a tray.
“That’s what I said,” she said, waving him through.
He shot me an amused look as he carried the tray to the bed. “She’s been up since six. I tried to convince her to let you sleep longer.” His eyes lingered for a moment longer than usual, as if he were weighing his words carefully. There was a slight pause, his smile tempered by a flicker of hesitation that hinted at a deeper worry beneath his lightheartedness.
“No time for sleeping when we’re makingfancybreakfast,” Harper said proudly.
“Fancy?” I echoed.
She nodded vigorously. “Toast, eggs, and strawberries shaped like hearts! Daddy cut them.”
I looked at the plate and smiled — they’d actually done it. Slightly uneven, but adorable little strawberry hearts lined up beside buttered toast and scrambled eggs.
“This looks amazing,” I said sincerely. “Did you two take overMasterChef Juniorwhile I was sleeping?”
Harper giggled, climbing up beside me. “Daddy said you needed food with vitamins and love in it.”
“That’s the best kind,” I said softly.
Logan set the tray down carefully and handed me the coffee. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Thank you,” I said, meeting his eyes. “For all of this.”
He shrugged, but there was that soft smile again, the one that made my chest do an inconvenient little flip. For a fleeting second, a worry crossed my mind: Was it foolish to let myself see him in this way? “You earned it. You were a trooper last night.”
Harper leaned against my arm. “Daddy took care of you while I slept! He’s good at that. When I get tummy aches, he makes me tea and rubs my back.”
“Does he?” I asked, glancing at him.
He casually shrugged his shoulders, half-smiling.
Harper hopped off the bed. “I’m gonna go get dressed so we can take Dani for a walk later. Daddy, don’t eat her toast while I’m gone!”
“I’ll try to resist,” he said as she darted down the hall.
When she disappeared, the room grew still, leaving just the lull of morning and the clatter of a spoon against the tray.
Logan sat down on the edge of the bed, making sure not to jostle it too much. He adjusted the bedspread, smoothing it out with one hand, as if settling into the moment. “You look better,” he remarked, a hint of relief easing his expression.
“I feel better,” I said. “Still achy, but not dying.”
He nodded, relief softening the line of his shoulders. “You scared me a little last night.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I said quietly. “It just… hits sometimes.”
“I get it.”
And the way he said it, in that low, steady voice that seemed to carry more weight than just an understanding of my pain, made me wonder if he truly did.
“I owe you, though,” I said after a moment. “For taking care of me. For not running for the hills when you saw me half-conscious and cranky.”
He chuckled. “Dani, I’ve handled worse. You’re allowed to have a bad night.”
I studied him for a second. “You’re good at this care-taking thing.”
He smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. “It’s kind of been my whole life. Started with Harper. Probably before, honestly.”
