26. Logan
LOGAN
Sleep found me easily that night. After all the dancing, laughter, and whatever the hell that electric thing was between me and Ellie, I was spent. The kind of tired that wraps you up and doesn’t let go.
But apparently, it let go.
There was no way it was already morning. I was sure I’d just closed my eyes. Then again, when sleep is good, it feels like that.
Groggy, I rolled over and blinked through the haze, squinting at the red glow of the bedside clock.
Three forty-five a.m.
I groaned, flopping to the other side, burying my face in the pillow—just in time for a sharp knock to echo through the room.
Again.
That must’ve been what woke me.
Another knock followed, more urgent this time.
With a low sigh, I sat up and stretched, arms overhead, yawning as my spine cracked and my muscles slowly stirred awake.
Scratching my bare chest, I dragged myself to the door, peeking through the peephole.
I wasn’t about to open up for just anyone in the middle of the night.
But it wasn’t just anyone.
It was Ellie.
She stood on the other side, shifting her weight from foot to foot, glancing around like she was expecting someone—or something—to jump out at her. Her fist was raised mid-knock when I opened the door.
“It’s about time,” she huffed, brushing past me into the room like a storm front with bare legs.
“I was asleep,” I muttered, shutting the door behind her. “What’s going on?”
She didn’t answer, just started pacing across the room, eyes wide, expression tight like she was reliving a nightmare.
“El.” I stepped closer. “Talk to me.”
She shivered all over and did a little hop in place like something had crawled up her leg.
“Something touched my foot.” She pointed toward the wall that separated our rooms. “In there. While I was in bed.”
“Touched you?” I repeated, eyebrows lifting.
“Yes!” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and panic. “I was sleeping and I felt something brush against me. It was soft and furry! I thought I imagined it until it happened again. Then a third time. That’s when I jumped out of bed and ran.”
“And now you’re here.” I rubbed a hand down my face. “Standing in my room at three forty-five in the morning.”
She wore a satin pajama set—shorts and a tank top—and clearly hadn’t bothered with a bra. My eyes betrayed me before I could stop them, catching on the soft peaks pressing against the fabric.
Jesus.
I looked away quickly, swallowing the ache rising in my chest.
“Exactly.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself like she needed the warmth. “I’m not going back in there. I need to sleep in here.”
“I’ll take the couch,” I offered, already stepping that way, but she raised a hand.
“Nope. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. We’ll just share the bed like when we were kids. No biggie.”
Except it was a biggie.
Because when we were kids, I hadn’t known what it felt like to crave her touch. I hadn’t been wrecked by the thought of her skin brushing against mine under cotton sheets in the dead of night.
I exhaled slowly, calming the storm of want roaring through me, and gave her a short nod.
“All right,” I said quietly.
I motioned toward the bed. “Climb in.”
And God help me, this night just got a whole lot harder.
We both slid under the covers without speaking, the quiet between us almost louder than words. I laid on my back, eyes on the ceiling, heart pounding as thoughts spun faster than I could contain them.
Ellie and I hadn’t shared space like this in years—not like this.
Not with this kind of quiet, intimate gravity between us.
Back then, it was innocent. Now… now I was painfully aware of everything.
The warmth radiating from her body. The fact that the blanket covering me was draped over her too.
The way only inches—mere inches—separated us beneath the sheets.
Part of me wanted to be respectful. Wanted to wait until the timing was right.
But the other part—the louder, increasingly impatient part—was ready to make the timing right.
She shifted beside me, rolling one way, then the other. I could feel her trying to find a comfortable position, feel the mattress give under each movement. I held my breath with every small shuffle closer.
She shifted again and this time her hair grazed across my chest, her weight melted against me, and I stopped breathing altogether.
Ellie had moved into me, settled on top of me like she’d done it a thousand times before.
I wrapped my arm around her, anchoring her there, releasing the anxious breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
She was in my bed. In my arms. And I was a goner.
“Do you think it was a ghost?” she whispered into the darkness, her voice soft, breathy against my skin.
I swallowed the grin tugging at my lips. “Maybe it was just playing tricks on you,” I said, trying to sound casual. Normal. Like my pulse wasn’t thundering beneath her cheek.
Play it cool, Walker.
“If it was, then maybe being near you and all your muscles will scare him off,” she murmured with a teasing lilt, her words pressing directly into my ribcage.
I tightened my hold on her, hand flattening across the middle of her back to draw her even closer. She followed easily, shifting until one of her legs draped over mine and her entire body pressed along my side. Heat flooded my chest, down my spine, into every nerve ending.
I slid my hand from her back to her hair. I began to gently run my fingers through the strands—soft, rhythmic motions that said everything I didn’t have the guts to say aloud. I hoped she felt what I was trying to give her: comfort, safety… and affection that ran deeper than friendship ever could.
If I could’ve stayed in that moment forever, I would’ve. Because for the first time in a long time, it felt like something broken inside me had finally started to mend, with her lying right there, tangled up in my arms, like she belonged.
Within moments, she had drifted to sleep with soft exhales and long, drawn-out inhales. I closed my eyes, and I would’ve sworn I was going to be up all night. Though moments later, I, too, fell asleep, deep into a slumber I had never quite felt before.