Chapter 18 Logan
LOGAN
The streets were quiet. Still damp from the rain, the pavement glowed under the soft flicker of gas lamps. Everything smelled fresh, like jasmine and wet stone, the air steamy with the lingering warmth of the day.
Elizabeth walked beside me, our shoulders brushing every so often, enough to send a flicker of awareness through me each time.
Neither of us was in a hurry. Neither of us was saying much, either.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t tense or loaded with expectations.
I exhaled slowly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “You know, every time someone tells me what to do, it feels like my father’s voice in my head.”
Elizabeth glanced over at me, brow furrowing slightly.
I kept my gaze ahead. “Telling me I’m not good enough.”
She didn’t respond right away. She just waited. Let me say it at my own pace.
“My dad was… intense,” I admitted, voice quieter now.
“He was a perfectionist, and he was relentless. Nothing was ever good enough. If I thought I’d nailed a performance, he’d tell me what needed fixing.
If I wrote a song, he’d find the one lyric that didn’t work.
” I swallowed. “And if I ever messed up? That was proof. Proof that I wasn’t serious enough.
That I didn’t deserve the name he gave me. ”
I didn’t mean to say that much. Didn’t mean to say any of it, really. But Elizabeth didn’t judge or jump in with solutions. She just listened.
I let out a short breath, shaking my head. “I think that’s why I push back so hard. Every time someone tries to rein me in, it feels like him. Even when it’s not.”
Even when it’s you.
She was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “That sounds… exhausting.”
I let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”
She hesitated, then asked carefully, “And now? Why are you referring to him in the past tense?”
I flexed my jaw. I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. So I shrugged. “Now, I’m trying. To be better. To prove I’m not the mess everyone thinks I am.”
She stopped walking. We had wandered into a small courtyard, tucked between old brick buildings, with a fountain bubbling softly in the center. A few string lights hung overhead, their glow reflecting off the wet pavement and casting everything in a golden hue.
Elizabeth studied me with a softer expression in her eyes. “Logan… I don’t think you’re a mess.”
I huffed out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “You sure about that?”
She crossed her arms. “You’re not the only one who feels like they have something to prove.”
I tilted my head, waiting.
She sighed, glancing down for a second before looking back up. “If I stop working, I’m afraid everything will fall apart. If I’m not in control, then who is?” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to let go.”
I stepped closer. She didn’t move.
I spoke more softly now, like talking any louder might scare her off. “You don’t always have to carry everything alone, you know.”
Her eyes met mine. She exhaled. “And you don’t have to keep proving yourself to people who never saw you in the first place.”
Something in my chest tightened.
Before I could think better of it, and before either of us could talk ourselves out of it, she leaned in.
Her face tilted slightly, her breath warm against my skin. And then her lips met mine.
At first, it was tentative. Soft. Cautious. Like neither of us knew whether this was a mistake, or the only thing that had ever made sense.
But then I shifted closer, and suddenly, it wasn’t tentative anymore.
The kiss deepened, and every nerve in my body fired at once.
She tasted like rain and something I couldn’t name.
Something I wanted more of. Her lips were soft, warm, pressing tentatively against mine, like she wasn’t sure if this was real, if she could let herself sink into it.
But when I tilted my head to deepen the kiss, she didn’t pull away.
She pulled me in. Her fingers curled into my jacket, clutching at the fabric like she needed something to hold on to. My hands skimmed her waist, then settled there, feeling the slight hitch in her breath, the way her body pressed just a fraction closer to mine.
I had imagined kissing her before—of course I had—but nothing had prepared me for this. For the way she fit against me, the way her lips parted just enough for me to taste her, the slow drag of her mouth against mine that sent heat licking down my spine.
I angled my head, chasing the sensation, my pulse hammering in my throat. Her hands slid up, fingertips brushing my jaw, and a quiet sound escaped her—a soft, breathy sigh that nearly undid me.
More.
I needed more.
But just as my hand slid up her back, just as I was about to kiss her deeper, she froze.
And then, she pulled back. “This is a bad idea.”
I let out a short, breathless laugh, still feeling the ghost of her lips against mine. “Feels like the best one I’ve had in a long time.”
She swallowed, gaze dropping to my mouth like she was fighting with herself.
For a second, I thought she might kiss me again.
Instead, she took a step back. “I should go,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “We both need to think about what this means… or doesn’t mean.”
I could have argued with her about it. Could have pushed, could have asked her not to overthink it.
But I nodded. “For the record?” My voice was quieter now. “I think it means something.”
She didn’t respond right away. Just looked at me for a beat too long, lips still parted, as if she wasn’t sure what to say.
Then she pulled out her phone and called an Uber. When the car pulled up, she hesitated. I almost said something. Almost stopped her. But I let her climb inside. I watched as the car disappeared down the street. Then I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.
Call me when you get home so I know you’re safe.
A few seconds later, my phone buzzed.
Elizabeth texted her response: I will.
I exhaled, staring at the message. The rain had stopped, but the air still felt electric.
Like something had shifted.
Like nothing was going to be the same after tonight.