Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
As sure as the sun in the fucking sky
Lulu
Golden sunlight slants through the blinds, cutting across the sheets in soft stripes. The faint crinkle of balloon ribbons filters up from downstairs, a quiet reminder of our ridiculous, perfect night.
Logan’s arm is heavy around my waist, pinning me against him. His chest rises slow and solid against my back, every breath ghosting warm over my shoulder. He’s out cold, a faint scrape of stubble brushing my skin every time he exhales.
It’s only about the third time I’ve stayed over. Usually one of us slips out before dawn, pretending Eli’s nosy proximity hasn’t turned us into covert operatives. But after the words that fell between us last night, I can’t bring myself to care.
It feels different now. Not just the sex—though, God, that too—but the quiet after. The way he holds me like he’s keeping time with my pulse. The way the air feels calm, not charged. Safe and mine. Maybe forever.
I shift a little, trying to untangle the sheets, and his grip tightens instantly.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Move.” He noses against my shoulder, the scruff of his jaw scraping lightly. “I was having a good dream.”
I smile into the pillow. “About what?”
“Pretty sure you were naked in it. Wait… yep. Definitely naked.”
“Shocking,” I deadpan. “You must have new material.”
He groans, rolling half on top of me, pressing me deeper into the mattress. “Keep talking like that and I’ll give you a rerun.”
I bite back a laugh, my hands dancing up his shoulders. “We have brunch, caveman.”
“Cancel it.”
His hips roll, just enough for me to feel the unmistakable evidence of his morning wood against me.
“Tamara will hunt us down.”
“I’d take her in a fight.”
I laugh, pressing my face against his neck. “You’d lose.”
“Definitely,” he says, voice filled with sleep and something sweeter. “But at least I’d die happy.”
I lean up, kiss him quick and soft, then shove at his chest. “Get dressed, Miller. If I’m suffering through Eli’s pancakes, you’re coming with me.”
He catches my wrist before I can escape, thumb brushing my pulse before he softly kisses the skin. “You really love me, huh?”
“If I confirm that, you’ll try to fuck me again, and we’ll be late.”
A lazy and satisfied grin pulls at his lips. “You love me.”
“I do,” I admit, smiling softly.
His warm hand reaches up and catches the back of my neck, pulling me in for a slow kiss that tastes like morning and sleep and us. When he breaks it, his voice is low but clear.
“Love you too, Lu.”
We roll out of bed, and both try to be practical—quick showers with no distractions—but that lasts all of thirty seconds before Logan decides he’s joining me.
Five minutes later, the water’s not the only thing creating steam, and by the time we actually get dressed, the bathroom mirror’s fogged, the floor’s drenched, and I’m swearing I’m never showering with him again. He doesn’t look even a little sorry.
I tug on jeans and a soft knit, then run a hand through my damp hair. No time to dry it. His hoodie sits draped over the chair, calling my name, but I leave it. Too obvious, too risky.
We take Dusty and start the walk toward Eli and Tamara’s, the morning crisp enough that my breath fogs on the air. Halfway there, a gust of wind cuts through my knit, and I instantly regret every choice I’ve ever made.
Logan glances down at me, takes in the shiver I try to disguise with crossed arms, and sighs. “Jesus, Lu.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” He tugs his hoodie over his head, thrusts it toward me, and keeps walking before I can argue. “Put it on.”
“Logan, someone’s gonna notice when w—”
“I don’t give a shit if they notice,” he mutters, tone gruff but fond. “I’m not letting my girl freeze.”
My heart trips a little at my girl. I tug the hoodie on and am instantly surrounded by his scent—cedar, soap, and a faint trace of coffee.
Dusty trots ahead, his tail wagging and leash stretched taut. Logan’s hand brushes mine occasionally, but never quite takes it.
“You know, wearing your hoodie is basically a billboard. People will ask questions.”
“Let ’em ask,” he says, kicking at a loose bit of gravel. “You were cold, I gave you my hoodie. Easy. We’re just neighbors walking the dog to brunch.”
“Uh-huh. Neighbors who look suspiciously well-fucked.”
He laughs, the low rumble vibrating through me.
We walk another block in comfortable silence, and then he clears his throat. “I nearly blew it last night.”
“Blew what?”
“Us.”
I stop mid-step. “What did you do?”
He groans, running a hand through his hair. “I called Chase a Gemini during poker. The whole table went silent, and Hutchy looked at me like I’d joined a cult.”
A laugh bursts out of me, too loud for the quiet street. “Oh my God, Logan.”
“Jake said I’m starting to sound like you,” he mutters.
I cover my mouth, giggling. “You’re so bad at this.”
“Apparently.” He looks down, mouth quirking. “Eli didn’t say anything, but he gave me that look.”
The smile fades from my lips. “He’s gonna figure it out eventually.”
“Yeah.” He lets his hand drop, fingers stretching out to mine for a second, hidden between our strides. “But not before your showcase. You deserve that, Lu. No drama or distractions.”
I nod, watching Dusty sniff a mailbox. “Then we’ll tell him.”
“Then we’ll tell him,” he echoes. “And then… he can kill me.”
“Pretty sure he’ll try.”
“Worth it.”
I look away, pretending to watch Dusty nose through a patch of grass, but my cheeks ache from smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Mmm, that’s something a Pisces would say.”
I nudge him. “You don’t get to mock astrology when you’ve been caught in the wild quoting it, Miller.”
He smirks, eyes trailing over me. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m evolving.”
“Into what?”
“A Scorpio who’s fucked for a Pisces.”
I blink at him. “Wait—how do you even know I’m a Pisces?”
He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes fix on the pavement. “I might’ve… looked it up.”
“You Googled my star sign?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
Something warm floods my chest. For a second, I forget we’re on a public street, forget anyone could drive by and see the way he’s looking at me.
I lunge at him before I can stop myself, looping my arms around his neck and pulling myself up until only my toes touch the ground and Dusty darts around us in circles.
“Poooookie. You googled my star sign,” I murmur into the soft skin under his jaw.
“Yeah, yeah.” His hands slide down to my hips, holding me there. “You done climbing me?”
“Depends.” I smirk. “You gonna let go?”
He looks at me like it’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “Not unless I have to.”
“Then don’t.” I close my eyes and breathe him in.
He doesn’t buy the whole star sign thing, but he still listens anyway, still tucks the information somewhere behind that gruff exterior.
Keeps the pieces of me I leave lying around and hands them back when I forget they’re there.
Never the guy belittling me, always the one playing along and making me feel seen.
Fuck, I love him so much.
I take another breath, then ease myself down to put distance between us. “You sure about this? About us?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Pretty sure I told you last night I loved you. Kinda hard to walk that back.”
“Good,” I say, biting my lip. “Because you’re definitely not the only one who’s fucked.”
He laughs, tugging gently on Dusty’s leash. “But right now? Neighbors. We’re just neighbors walking the dog.”
“Right,” I mumble, trying not to smile as we start walking again. “Totally normal neighbor behavior.”
“Completely innocent,” he agrees.
By the time we reach Eli and Tamara’s and let ourselves in, voices spill from the dining room—Zoe’s laugh, Hutchy’s low drawl, and Meadow’s running commentary.
Dusty trots ahead, his tail wagging. Miso, on the other hand, lets out a banshee screech from inside the room before we’ve even crossed the threshold.
“Sound the alarm,” Logan mutters under his breath. “Your demon niece dog knows I’m here.”
“She’s not a demon.”
“She wants blood.”
“She likes you,” I say, following him in. “She’s just particular.”
He shoots me a look. “So’s Satan.”
We step into the kitchen, and it’s every bit the circus I expect. Tamara’s at the stove flipping pancakes with Eli beside her, spatula in one fist and the expression of a man who’s accepted defeat.
Jake’s leaned back in his chair sipping coffee in one hand and Theo in the other, while Charlie slices up pancakes for Meadow, and Noah quietly stacks blueberries into a tower.
Chase and Zoe are perched by the counter, arguing about whether it’s too early for mimosas. Reid’s in the corner nursing coffee and his will to live.
“Finally!” Tamara says, flipping another pancake onto the growing pile. “About time you two showed.”
She looks up and her eyes land on me, then travel to the giant hoodie drowning me. One brow arches to the ceiling and her mouth curves. “Cute outfit, Lu.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile that’s only slightly panicked. “It’s… uhh, warm.”
“Mm. Looks familiar,” she says lightly, her gaze sweeping to Logan.
Zoe snorts into the mimosa she’s now poured, not even trying to hide her amusement.
“Morning,” Logan adds smoothly, like he’s not about to be interrogated.
Eli glances up from the pan, spatula hovering midair as his face bounces between us. “Walked over together?”
“Yeah,” I say too fast. “Dusty needed a walk.”
“Uh-huh.” His tone is flat enough to make my pulse stutter.
Before either of us can elaborate, Meadow looks up, delighted. “Oh good, you’re here!”
“Hey princess,” Logan says with a smile, pulling up a chair next to her. I sit down next to him, grabbing one of the smoothies already on the table.
“I made you pancakes!” Meadow gestures to a plate of what can only be described as deformed, fried batter, sitting on a plate.
“Yeah?”
Meadow nods hard. “Uh-huh! Mama helped me make special ones. Because we was making love!”
Charlie chokes on her orange juice. “Oh no.”
Jake groans softly. “This is my fault.”