Chapter 38 #2
Logan smiles down at Naomi. “Have a seat at the table, and I’ll get everything ready for you.”
Naomi bounces off to the table and sits patiently while I fetch bowls and plates.
My mom makes her way into the kitchen not long after.
She sits next to Naomi, and I can tell by the way she’s pursing her lips that she’s trying to stifle a smile.
Logan brings the soup bowls to the table and places one in front of Naomi and my mom.
He comes back with two more for him and me, then places a plate of garlic bread in the middle.
“It’s a butternut squash soup with carrot and ginger. And I made some garlic bread to go on the side,” Logan says, pulling his chair in closer.
I put my hand on Logan’s shoulder and feel my heart flutter as I think about how much effort he put into this.
To make us happy.
To help make our lives feel less heavy.
“This is wonderful, Logan. I can’t thank you enough,” Mom says, putting a hand on her chest.
Her chin wobbles, and I think she might cry, but she gathers herself a moment later.
Naomi slurps some of the soup. Her mouth forms an “O,” and her face brightens.
“This is so good!”
Logan smiles, and I rub his shoulder. “Thanks, Nay.”
I smile at Logan calling Naomi by her nickname. He’s earned that privilege with this meal alone.
I take a spoonful myself.
“This is great, babe.”
He runs a hand through my hair and scrunches it affectionately. “You’re welcome.”
I snort, take a slice of garlic bread, and dip it into the soup. It tastes amazing, as I predicted, and I can tell by the contented sounds coming from Naomi and Mom that they think the same.
Warmth flows through me with each bite of soup.
It’s not just because of the soup, though.
It’s the comfort Logan brought with one simple gesture. It might seem simple to him, but to my family and me, it means so much more.
After not having a father figure for the past year and having to assume that responsibility myself, I feel like I can finally relax and let someone else take the reins.
I can let someone take care of my family and me.
“I brought some baby pictures of Alex…” my mom says, reaching behind her to a nearby dresser and pulling out some scrapbooks.
“Where the hell did you get those?” I ask, embarrassment flooding through me.
Logan snorts. “Please show them. I’ve been dying to see what Alex looked like when he was younger.”
Mom opens a scrapbook and points to a photo of me running through a sprinkler, my hands balled into fists and my body tense as cold water sprays over me.
Logan laughs. “He’s so cute.”
“Mom,” I admonish.
She ignores me and keeps flipping through the scrapbook.
Logan places a hand on my thigh, and my leg tingles beneath his touch.
His hand feels like a heater against my leg, and I lean into it, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me.
Mom somehow manages to find the most embarrassing photos of me, and I threaten to throw the scrapbook in the garbage. But Logan only encourages her, whispering reassurances in my ear every time I get embarrassed.
His hand grips my thigh tighter as the dinner goes on, and at one point, his hand rises higher on my leg and moves to my inner thigh.
I gasp as I glance at him, but he keeps his eyes on my mom’s scrapbook and the same smile on his face.
My entire body aches to be held by him. I want to feel the weight of his body against mine and have his kiss envelop me completely.
I want to be alone with him.
We finish dinner not long after, and I offer to clear the dishes.
As I start washing them in the sink, I glance back at the table and see Logan playfully poking at Naomi while she cackles with laughter. My mom laughs too as she watches the two of them.
I look at Logan and how easy it is for him to exist in this house. How naturally he’s slotted himself into my life.
I want this every Friday night from now on.
I want him to make me and my family happy like this for as long as he can.
I feel foolish for ever thinking I didn’t want him as much as I do now.
I close the door to my bedroom.
“Are you quite done laughing at those pictures of me?”
Logan shakes his head, still shuddering with laughter.
“I’ll never be done. That picture of you almost puking on that roller coaster is forever imprinted in my brain. I’ll think about it whenever I need cheering up.”
I roll my eyes as Logan falls onto my bed, still shaking with laughter.
I jump onto the bed and start tickling his sides, trying to get him to do anything other than mock me.
“Stop!” he groans, his body convulsing beneath me as I prod at his ribs.
He grunts and manages to pry my hands off him. A serious look crosses his face as he flips us over, my back landing on the mattress with him hovering above me.
He immediately starts poking at my sides, and laughter erupts from me as I thrash around, trying to shove his hands away.
“Not so fun now, huh?” Logan teases, smiling down at me.
“No, it’s not!” I groan as he keeps tickling me.
“Admit your pictures are funny,” he says, continuing his assault on my sides.
“They are, okay?” I gasp out, finally making him stop.
Logan beams.
“Finally. I’m glad you agree.”
I shove him.
“Whatever.”
He rests a hand on my thigh, and that familiar warmth comes rushing back.
“You really were so cute,” he says earnestly, staring into my eyes.
I smile.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
I glance around my room. It’s the same room I’ve always known. I was that kid in those pictures, growing up in this room, and I’ve never really had a boy in here before.
Scott never took things seriously enough for me to let him into this part of my life.
Logan’s the first.
Logan reaches over me and picks up the strip of pictures we got at the photo booth.
“You still have these?”
“Of course.”
Logan looks down at them, and I notice something shift in him.
I look at the pictures too. The uncertainty on Logan’s face in the first two. The toothy smile in the third. The way he’s looking at me in the last one.
I can’t believe I ever thought he couldn’t want me the way I wanted him.
“I cut out the one of us and put it in my wallet. I’ve looked at it every day since,” Logan mutters.
I rub at my eyes because I don’t want to cry right now.
I realize Logan is everything I could ever want. He’s seen every part of me, and he still wants to stay. He still wants to sit in my bedroom and help me navigate this hedge maze we call life.