Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
CASSIE
By the time we get to Jackson’s place, the sun’s starting to dip, but the heat hasn’t let up.
Ivy’s mom is already there, standing in the kitchen with a bottle in one hand and a laundry list in the other.
“Okay,” she says quickly. “Ellie already had a snack, Harriet’s probably going to want one soon, bedtime is eight—eight-thirty at the latest—and—”
“I’ve got it,” I say, smiling. “Seriously.”
She studies me for a second, then nods.
“Alright. Call if you need anything.”
A minute later, she’s gone.
And the house immediately explodes.
“Aunt Cassie!!!”
Ellie barrels into me at full speed, nearly knocking me backward.
“Whoa—hey, hey!” I laugh, catching her.
Behind her, Harriet—Hattie—waddles in, arms up like she expects to be picked up immediately.
I sigh, smiling despite myself.
“Hi, you two.”
Ten minutes later, I’m already tired.
Like, deep in my bones tired.
I glance toward the kitchen where Logan’s standing, half-looking through the fridge like he’s assessing a situation.
“I think I’m just going to order pizza or something,” I say. “Easy night.”
He doesn’t answer right away.
Just keeps scanning shelves.
“What do you guys usually eat?” he asks.
I shrug. “Honestly? No idea.”
“We had nap time!” Ellie announces proudly from behind us.
Logan turns, eyebrows lifting. “Nap time? It’s five-thirty.”
“We wanna stay up allll night,” she says, stretching the words dramatically.
He laughs. I laugh. This is chaos.
“I can take it from here,” I say. “You probably want a night of quiet.”
“Nah,” Logan says finally, grabbing his keys. “I’ll be back.”
I blink. “Wait—what?”
But he’s already heading for the door.
Twenty minutes later, he’s back with his arms full of groceries.
“Logan—what did you do?” I ask, half laughing.
“What does it look like?” he says, setting everything down. “I’m making dinner.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the counter. “You cook now?”
He glances at me. “You’re about to find out.”
Somehow, within thirty minutes, the kitchen smells incredible. Chicken. Something with garlic. And roasted vegetables.
Actual food that kids will eat.
Not pizza.
Ellie’s perched on a chair, narrating everything.
Hattie is banging a spoon against the counter like she’s part of the operation.
And Logan?
He’s just handling it effortlessly, tapping Ellie’s nose repeatedly and joking with her.
After dinner, it gets even worse.
For me, at least. Because now he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor.
At a tea party.
Wearing a plastic tiara Ellie shoved onto his head.
“Sir Logan,” Ellie says seriously, pouring imaginary tea, “you must be very careful, it is hot.”
“I understand,” he replies, just as serious. “I will proceed with much caution, Princess.”
Hattie giggles, clapping her hands.
I stand there for a second, just watching.
Something in my chest shifts.
I don’t even remember sitting down.
Just that at some point, I end up on the couch.
And then, despite my struggle to keep my eyes open, I’m out like a light.
When I wake up, the house is quiet. Too quiet for a house full of kids.
I sit up quickly.
“Logan?”
He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like nothing’s wrong.
“Hey,” he says. “You’re up.”
“What time is it?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I blink, trying to make myself less sleepy. “Where are the kids?”
He pauses, deadpan. “Escaped.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. No idea where they went. They’re microchipped, right?”
I smack his arm. “Logan!”
He laughs, grabbing my wrist lightly. “Relax. They’re in bed.”
I exhale. “Oh my God. Don’t do that.”
“Couldn’t help it.”
He walks over, dropping onto the couch beside me.
“So,” he says, glancing at me. “What are we watching?”
A few minutes later, we land on a rom-com.
Something light. Easy.
I barely pay attention. Because I’m sitting next to him.
Plus, he smells like soap and something warm. And I can’t get the earlier image out of my head of him wearing a tiara.
I swipe my phone open and pull up the video I took today.
I hesitate for a second, then open the team account.
George’s login still works.
I splice the video of Logan hitting a home run together with some footage of the game from the stands and find some upbeat music to go with it.
I caption it, hover over the button, and hit post.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter.
I set my phone down, and lean back.
And somewhere between the second act and the predictable third-act breakup on screen, I fall asleep again.
I wake up to the smell of coffee and something that smells warm and buttery.
For a second, I don’t even remember where I am.
Then I see Logan in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking.
I push myself up slowly on the couch, hair a mess, still half-asleep.
He glances over his shoulder. “Morning, Sunshine. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he says. “Breakfast.”
I squint at the pan. “Is that…eggs?”
“And pancakes,” he adds. “Figured we’d keep the streak alive.”
“The streak?”
“Me making you question everything you thought you knew about me.”
I huff out a laugh, dropping back against the couch.
A second later the beautiful chaos begins again.
“Aunt Cassie!”
Ellie runs full speed at me.
I barely have time to brace before she climbs onto the couch next to me.
“We’re awake,” she announces.
“I can see that.”
Behind her, Hattie waddles in, clutching something sticky.
“Oh no,” I mutter. “What is that?”
“No idea,” Logan calls. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
Breakfast is chaos. Syrup is somehow everywhere, and Ellie is talking nonstop about the tea party she and Logan had yesterday. Hattie is trying to feed Logan pancakes with her hands.
Logan is just rolling with it, laughing and wiping sticky fingers, and letting them climb all over him like it’s nothing.
That morning, we end up at the farmer’s market.
I don’t even know how we get the idea.
Just that suddenly we’re walking between booths, sunlight spilling over everything, Ellie dragging us toward flowers, Hattie in my arms.
Logan’s next to me, holding a bag of produce like this is just normal. Like this is our life.
At one point, he nudges my shoulder.
“You good?” he asks.
I glance at him, and see the way he’s looking at me, soft and easy.
“Yeah,” I say.
And for once I mean it. Life is good.
By the time we get back, the house is already alive again.
Early in the afternoon, the front door swings open and Ivy comes rushing toward us.
“Oh my gosh!” she says, eyes wide. “Congratulations!”
I blink. “On what?”
She stops and stares at me.
“You haven’t checked your phone today?”
I frown. “No…”
I shrug a little. “I don’t know. I’ve just been—” I gesture vaguely. “Taking care of things here.”
Ivy lets out a laugh like she can’t believe me.
“Cassie,” she says, grabbing my arm. “Your post went absolutely viral.”
My stomach drops.
“What?”
Jackson steps in behind her, grinning. “She’s not kidding. It’s everywhere.”
I blink between them. “What do you mean everywhere?”
Ivy pulls out her phone, already tapping.
“Just look.”
She turns the screen toward me, and there it is, the video of Logan with the ball disappearing into the sky. Some pans of the crowd drinking beers and having a good, family-friendly time.
There are hundreds of thousands of views and climbing.
Comments stack faster than I can read, about how we need to bring back wholesome fun and that professional baseball is overpriced…
And it’s still climbing.
Logan just grins. “Oops, you did it again.”
“Thanks a million for watching them again, Cass,” Jackson says.
“You can name your next kid after me.” I wink.