Logan
Drying my hands on a dish towel, I tossed it onto the counter with a tired sigh. My back ached—tight, sore muscles from a long day’s work—but that was nothing new. Part of the routine, part of the life. I stretched, rocking side to side to loosen up.
The house was finally quiet. Dishes done. Bags fully unpacked. Laundry humming its final cycle. It had been a few days since we got back, and while things looked normal again, I couldn’t say I felt settled.
Physically, maybe. Mentally? Not even close.
The time I spent with Ellie had lit something in me. A brighter spark I couldn’t put out, even if I tried. Something had shifted during our trip, something deeper and I didn’t want to go back to the way things were. Waiting. Wondering. Holding back.
I was done sitting on the sidelines. I was all in now.
Faircloud changed things. She changed things. And I planned to show her every single day just how serious I was. There would never be a perfect time, and I wasn’t about to let hesitation steal another chance. If I kept waiting, I might lose her completely.
Since we’d gotten back, life had pulled us in separate directions. Work, obligations, routines. I hadn’t seen much of her, and that was okay for now. We both needed time to adjust. But I wasn’t planning on waiting much longer.
A knock sounded—frantic, hard, and impatient.
I crossed the kitchen and opened the door, blinking in surprise when I saw her standing there.
Ellie.
For a split second, I was thrown back to the last time she’d stood on this porch. The tears in her eyes. The bruises that spoke louder than words. The anger that had surged inside me back then stirred again, protective and fierce, but it faded just as fast when I looked at her now.
I smiled.
She didn’t say a word. Just barreled inside like a woman with a purpose.
I closed the door behind her and turned, crossing my arms and planting my feet shoulder-width apart. I waited, giving her space to gather whatever storm she had swirling inside her.
She started pacing, quick steps across the floor. Her eyes stayed locked on the ground, teeth worrying her bottom lip. She was unraveling in front of me, and I let her, knowing she’d speak when she was ready.
Finally, she stopped. Faced me.
“Do you really like me?” she asked, her voice flat and uncertain. No smile. No warmth. Just a question tossed into the air like a lifeline.
“Of course I like you,” I said, though it came out more like a question. My brow furrowed.
“No, I mean… do you like like me?”
“Ace…” I took a step forward. “What are you trying to get at?”
She groaned and dragged a hand down her face, frustration radiating from every pore.
“Am I misreading this? Whatever this is between us… did I imagine it?”
I stared at her, stunned. Misreading it?
I kissed her—twice. I dropped everything to take her on that trip. I set up a damn picnic at sunset like we were the only two people on earth. I’ve always been there for her, always will be.
How could she ask if she was misreading the situation?
Clearly, we were both on the same page—wondering what us would look like post road trip. I know I didn’t want things to go back to just Logan and Ellie, best friends.
I was going to fight for more because I knew she was worth fighting for.
But then it hit me—this wasn’t about me. Not really.
It was about her.
Her wounds. Her fears. The bruises left behind by men who never showed up the way she deserved.
I let out a slow breath and shook my head gently. “No, Ellie. You’re not misreading it. Not even a little.”
She nodded, arms crossed over her chest like she needed to hold herself together.
“I don’t know which way is up anymore,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “After everything with Buck, I thought I’d be fine. I thought I just needed time, time alone, time to find myself. But here I am, over a year later, and I still feel broken.”
She looked down, then back up at me with fire in her eyes.
“Never thought I’d feel so lost. So confused. Buck tore me up. Then Miles came in and messed with my trust all over again. And now you…”
She trailed off, and I could see the war behind her eyes—the way she was turning every moment over and over, analyzing it, questioning its meaning, its worth.
I stepped toward her slowly. “And now me, what?”
“I’m afraid I can’t trust the way I feel anymore,” she said, voice low but trembling. “I was wrong about the last two men. What if I’m wrong about you, too?”
The words hit me square in the chest—sharp and fast, like a bullet I never saw coming.
“Have I done anything to make you think I’d hurt you?”
She didn’t answer.
So, I gently reached for her hand, afraid she’d vanish if I moved too fast.
“Ellie,” I murmured, threading my fingers through hers. “I’m not them. I don’t want anything from you except your truth. However messy it is. However unsure. I’m here for you. Not some version you think you have to be.”
She stared at our hands, then blinked slowly, her lips parting but no sound coming out.
“Before all this,” she whispered finally, “you were the one person in my life I never questioned. Before we kissed… before I wanted to give in to whatever this pull is between us, I knew you’d never hurt me.”
Her gaze drifted from me and I let go of her hand to cradle her face in both of mine. I needed her to look at me. Really look at me.
Love—romantic love—broke her when in reality, it should’ve healed. It was a no-brainer why she felt so uneasy putting her heart in the hands of another man when the ones in her past treated it like it was meant to be thrown away.
I was going to prove to her that her heart was worth cherishing.
“Ellie Cassidy,” I said, voice thick. “I’m in love with you.
I’ve been in love with you for fifteen damn years.
I’ve sat back and watched you move through life.
Watched you laugh, fall, get back up, and give your heart to men who didn’t deserve it because I was too damn scared to say the way I felt out loud. And that’s where I fucked up.”
Her jaw slackened, her eyes locked with mine. Something shifted in her expression—something quiet but certain, like the moment just before dawn breaks.
“Do you want to know how I knew I was in love with you?” I asked, more to answer it for myself than for her.
“It was the way my stomach would twist when you walked into a room. The way my chest would tighten when you smiled. I blushed like a damn schoolboy when you looked at me too long. I found myself making up excuses just to be near you. I wanted to hear your voice when I was hurting, and when I couldn’t sleep, I’d imagine that jasmine perfume you always wore.
That scent got me through some of the worst nights.
Nights where I was alone, longing for connection, wondering if I was the reason my parents were never around. ”
I paused, still holding her face, my thumbs gently stroking the pink heat blooming across her cheeks. She was breathtaking—every single part of her.
“You were my reminder, my one constant in life. You were my friend, my person.”
“I never knew…” she whispered, her voice barely a sound.
“Because you never thought to look for love anywhere else,” I said softly. “You were happy, El. What kind of man would I have been to get in the way of that?”
“Until I wasn’t,” she murmured, her voice breaking just enough to gut me.
“And I gave you space. I gave you time to heal, to breathe, to find yourself again… because I thought that was what you needed most.”
Her hand came up slowly, shakily, and rested against my cheek. Her touch was tentative, like she couldn’t quite believe I was real. She studied my face—my eyes, my mouth, my everything—and under the weight of that gaze, I felt exposed. Shy, even.
“Time was never on my side,” I said, barely above a whisper.
We sat in thick, weighted silence. Me, plotting my next move—desperate to kiss her. Her, staring off like she was still trying to process everything I’d said. Everything she felt.
“Do you know what it’s like to be truly loved, Ace?” I asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. “To be cherished? Wanted? Needed more than air itself?”
She swallowed hard, then gave the smallest shake of her head.
Of course she didn’t. Because no one—no one—had ever loved her the way I did.
“Let me be the one to show you,” I whispered, my voice catching on the edge of everything I felt for her.
I leaned in and kissed her—soft, slow, reverent. One kiss after another, I pressed my mouth to hers until she melted into me, her body yielding, her lips responding like she’d been waiting for this just as long.
When I pulled back, I kept my forehead pressed against hers, our breaths mingling.
“So I guess my answer to your original question is no,” I murmured, voice low and thick with meaning. “I don’t like you, Ellie. I’m in love with you.”
And that was all it took.
She launched herself into my arms, crashing her mouth against mine with a force that left us breathless.
Her body molded to mine, every soft curve fitting perfectly against every sharp edge.
The tenderness from moments before was replaced by something deeper: desperation.
She kissed me like she was starved for it, for me, and I gave in without hesitation.
Her hands roamed, greedy and frantic, slipping beneath my shirt to rake across my skin. I groaned—low, guttural—as a growl rumbled from my chest, pulled from the part of me I usually kept locked away. The part of me that belonged to her.
“Ellie,” I rasped, barely holding on to my last threads of control.
She looked up at me, her eyes glassy, lips swollen and glistening from our kiss.
“Show me,” she whispered, voice rough with emotion. “Show me how much you love me.”