Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Thunder rumbled as John stepped into Zoe’s apartment later that evening. Seconds later, the sky cracked open. Rain pelted the roof, and sheets of water splashed against the windows in a wild, urgent rhythm.
Zoe smiled softly. “Sounds like you got inside just in time.”
Warm air enveloped him, chasing away the damp chill from outside. The savory scent of vegetables, beef and potatoes wrapped around her like comfort. Like home.
John didn’t bother removing his coat before stepping into her arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace like he couldn’t wait another second. Zoe lifted her face just as he lowered his, and when their lips met, she melted into the kiss, letting the storm outside fade to nothing.
“Thanks for inviting me over,” he murmured, his breath warm against her mouth. “Until your text, I figured you’d be with your dad while they got him settled in at home.”
“That was the plan. But when they decided to keep Dad overnight, Mom wanted to stay with him.River’s with Raime, so…” Another low boom of thunder shook the windows. “I hurried home. The storm’s supposed to last all night.”
John arched a brow, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “Are you saying I might be stuck here?”
She trailed a finger along his jaw, playful but quiet. “I certainly won’t be rushing you out the door.”
A loud growl from his stomach broke the moment, and she laughed.
Zoe gave his hand a squeeze. “Good to see you’re as hungry as I am.”
He started to reply, likely with something teasing, but she lifted a hand to stop him. “Coat off. Hands washed. I’ll handle the rest.”
John chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head as he shrugged out of his coat. “Bossy. I like it.”
He lingered near the candles she’d pulled from a drawer, striking a match and watching the flame flicker to life. “You were right. These make it feel extra cozy,” he said, his voice softer now. “Now…wine?”
She gestured toward the bottle she’d already set out.
As he poured them each a glass, she brought the shepherd’s pie and a basket of dinner rolls to the table, adding a bowl of salad with thinly sliced cucumbers and red onion.
Between the candlelight, the storm beyond the windows and the soft clink of silverware, the apartment took on a golden glow.
They moved around each other easily, instinctively, a quiet choreography of comfort and companionship Zoe hadn’t realized she’d been missing until now.
When they finally sat down, Zoe picked up her fork, expecting John to do the same. But he simply rested his elbows lightly on the table, his gaze steady on her.
“What?” She reached for her cheek. “Do I have something on my face already?”
He shook his head slowly, a smile touching the corners of his mouth. “No. I just…” He hesitated, reaching across the table, palm up. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be anywhere more than I want to be right here, right now.”
Her chest tightened, heat blooming behind her ribs as she laced her fingers with his. Something in his tone—low, raw, unguarded—made her heart skip.
Zoe searched his face, certain there was more behind his words, something unsaid that hovered between them like the charged air before a storm. For a fleeting second, she thought he might say it, that word neither of them had spoken yet.
Instead, John brought her hand to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a tender kiss.
Outside, the rain lashed harder against the windows. Inside, it was all warmth and flickering candlelight…and the unmistakable sense that she was exactly where she belonged.
Later, after the dishes were cleared and the storm softened to a steady drizzle, Zoe curled up with John on the couch. A soft throw blanket rested across their legs, her head tucked beneath his chin, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding her in a way nothing else had in weeks.
The candles still burned low on the table, their warm glow spilling across the room.
Rain tapped gently against the windows, the thunder now only a distant rumble.
For the first time since her father’s accident, since the whirlwind of appointments and surgery and quiet, sleepless nights, Zoe felt her shoulders truly relax.
John’s fingers traced slow, absent-minded circles along the inside of her wrist, and her breath caught at how something so simple could feel so intimate. So anchoring.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” she said softly, her voice carrying just above the hum of rain.
He tightened his arm around her, his chin brushing the top of her head. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
The words settled deep inside her, warm and certain. She closed her eyes and let herself breathe him in—the faint trace of cedarwood and rain clinging to his shirt, the heat of his body seeping into hers.
It struck her then, quietly but with undeniable clarity, how much he’d come to mean to her. Not just for the laughter or the easy comfort they shared, but for the way he showed up without being asked. The way he steadied her without trying to fix her. The way he saw her.
She tilted her face toward his, catching the soft shadow of his jaw in the candlelight. “You make it really hard not to fall for you, John Logan,” she whispered, half afraid to hear the words aloud.
His hand stilled on her wrist, and for a heartbeat, silence hung between them, charged and fragile. Then he brushed his lips across her temple in a kiss so gentle it unraveled something inside her.
“You can trust me, Zoe,” he murmured. “Trust what we feel for each other.”
She let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, leaning into him fully, completely.
John angled his laptop toward the window, which was letting the soft morning light spill into Zoe’s apartment.
She’d already left to check on her dad and check in at the Grind, leaving the place quiet…
but not empty. Her blanket was still draped over the back of the couch.
A coffee mug sat by the sink. It was her space, but somehow, he didn’t feel like a guest anymore.
The screen blinked to life.
“Hey,” Michael greeted, his grin immediate. “There’s my little brother, the coffee mogul himself.”
John rolled his eyes but smiled. “Hi to you, too.”
“You look different,” Michael said, narrowing his gaze. “Relaxed. Happy. Did somebody replace my overly cautious brother with an optimistic doppelg?nger?”
John leaned back in the chair, one arm slung over the back. “Things are just…good. Really good.”
Michael cocked his head. “Good as in ‘small-town fling’ good? Or good as in ‘I might actually stay put for once in my life’ good?”
John hesitated, then nodded slowly. “The second one.”
Michael blinked. “No kidding.”
“I didn’t even realize how much I wanted this,” John admitted, his voice quiet, steady. “Not until I met her.”
Michael gave a low whistle. “Zoe the game changer.”
John didn’t answer right away. He reached for his coffee and glanced out the window, where a breeze rustled gold and amber leaves. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I think she might be.”
Michael let that sit for a beat, then leaned forward. “So what’s the plan? You staying? Opening a shop? Settling into Hallmark-ville? Because, honestly, that was not on my John Logan bingo card.”
John chuckled. “I’m not leaving the company, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I can work from anywhere—and I’m seriously considering staying here. The airport situation isn’t ideal, but it’s doable. Plus, I’d be within an easy day’s drive of Marquette, so I could get home more often.”
Michael arched a brow. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” John shrugged lightly. “Of course, if Zoe wants to live somewhere else for her work, we could figure that out.”
“You’ve talked to her about this?”
“Not yet.”
Michael gave him a pointed look. “Might want to lead with that before you start picking out a new ZIP code.”
John huffed a quiet laugh. “Noted.”
“This still surprises me,” Michael said, shaking his head. “You’ve never talked about forever before. Not once.”
John’s voice was steady. “I never had a reason to before.”
Michael sat back, studying him for a long moment. Then his mouth curved into a half smirk. “All right. Just promise me one thing—give me enough warning before the wedding so I can rent a tux.”
John laughed, shaking his head. “Nothing’s happening that fast.”
“Sure, sure,” Michael said, his grin sharpening. “Tell that to your face. You’ve got the head-over-heels look, little brother. And for the record, I like it on you.”
John didn’t argue. Couldn’t. His gaze drifted to the door as he imagined Zoe walking in the way she had last night, her smile lighting up when she spotted him.
“She’s incredible, Mike,” he said quietly.
Michael’s smirk eased into something closer to sincerity. “Then don’t screw it up. And maybe, just maybe, tell her how you feel.”
When the call ended, John sat back in the silence, her coffee mug still on the counter, her blanket still on the couch.
He wasn’t just passing through anymore.
He was building something.
And for the first time, he knew exactly who he wanted to build it with.
Zoe knocked lightly on the frame of the open doorway before stepping into the family room.
Her dad sat in his favorite recliner, a walker parked nearby and a soft blanket tucked over his legs.
The muted TV played a rerun of an old game show, but his attention was fixed on the jigsaw puzzle spread across the card table in front of him.
“Hey, you,” her dad said, glancing up with a tired but genuine grin. “I was wondering when I’d get my eldest daughter all to myself.”
Zoe smiled and perched on the ottoman across from him. “I practically had to shove Mom out the door to go get groceries so we could have this moment.”
“She worries,” he said simply, then studied her face, his gaze steady. “How are you? You okay?”
“I’m good.” Her lips curved without conscious thought. “I’ve really enjoyed working on the expansion project.”
“I’m impressed with what you and John have done,” Ryder said, nodding.
“Thanks,” she murmured, but his gaze stayed on her, expectant, and something in her chest tightened.
“John is…great,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not just that he’s kind or steady or funny. It’s how I feel when I’m with him. Like I can be myself.”
Ryder leaned back slightly, his expression softening with understanding. “That’s worth a lot, Zoe. We all want to be seen and accepted for who we are.”
Her throat thickened, and she hesitated before confessing, “I just keep wondering why I didn’t see it with Erik. That he…didn’t feel the same anymore.” Her voice faltered. “There had to have been signs, right?”
The memory flickered sharp and unwelcome—the way Erik’s words had landed like blows. Small-town girl. No big ambitions. Not the life he wanted. There had been so many kinder ways to end things. But he hadn’t chosen any of them.
Had he ever really loved her?
Ryder’s voice pulled her back. “Sweetheart, the man said he loved you and wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Why wouldn’t you have believed him? Trusted him?”
Zoe blinked quickly, pushing back the sting of tears.
“It feels different this time,” she admitted.
“I can see it,” Ryder said gently. “The way you light up when he walks into a room. The way you watch him when you think no one notices.”
Zoe huffed out a quiet laugh. “I do not.”
“Oh, you do.” His eyes crinkled with affection. “It reminds me of your mom. When we were dating, she used to look at me like I was the only person in the room.”
Her chest tightened at the warmth in his voice.
“John’s a good man,” Ryder said after a pause, his tone steady and sure. “I like him. But what matters most isn’t just who he is—it’s how he makes you feel. Whether you can trust him to hold your heart gently.”
Zoe’s throat tightened. “I think I can,” she said softly, almost to herself.
“Then take your time,” he said, reaching across to give her hand a careful squeeze. “Get to know him fully. Don’t rush it. The strongest foundations are built piece by piece.”
She nodded, letting the words settle inside her. Warm. Grounding. Exactly what she needed.
Driving home later, she noticed her dad’s voice lingered in her thoughts—not as a warning, but as a reminder. Trust wasn’t about grand declarations or promises whispered under the stars. It was built slowly, choice by choice, moment by moment.