Chapter 3 #2
My grip on the glass loosens. My shoulders ease back against the booth. Air moves deeper into my lungs, slow and steady.
They do not feel split. They feel aligned. No tug-of-war. No jockeying. Just two men who know exactly where they stand with each other.
I don’t have to shrink to fit beside one while the other looms.
I lift my glass, hiding the small smile threatening my mouth behind the rim.
That makes sense.
I do not have to choose one kind of strength over another. I do not have to fold myself into a narrow space shaped for someone younger, sleeker, and easier.
Logan’s knee brushes mine under the table. It doesn’t move away.
Heat spreads, slow and heavy, and I keep my eyes on the condensation sliding down my glass while my pulse taps out a rhythm I haven’t heard in years.
We linger too long. Coffee refills come and go. The sky outside the windows deepens toward evening, streetlights flickering on one by one. The diner grows softer around the edges, conversations around us blurring into the background like white noise.
Logan
The diner hum has shifted while we weren’t paying attention. The after-work crowd has thinned, laughter fading into low conversation. A waitress wipes down the counter in slow circles. Someone drops coins into the jukebox near the door, the sound sharp in the quiet space.
Josie follows my glance toward the clock over the pie case. Her eyes widen just a touch.
“Oh,” she murmurs, lips parting. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a small, nervous habit I’m starting to recognize. “I should probably head back. Early start tomorrow. Contractors. Paperwork.” She gives a soft huff of a laugh, like she hates being the one to say it.
I don’t want the night to end. I like the way she’s relaxed into the booth, and how her cheeks are rosy from laughter. But I also like that she’s thinking ahead, already fighting for that farm. Pride settles low and steady in my chest, right alongside the pull to keep her here longer.
I slide my hands flat on the table and stand.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
The words leave my mouth already decided. I don’t look at Asher for permission. I don’t need to. He sees it in my face anyway and just nods once, slow, knowing.
Josie reaches for her coat, and I’m already there, holding it open for her before she can shrug it on herself.
She pauses, surprised just long enough for her breath to catch, then turns so I can help guide her arms into the sleeves.
My knuckles brush her shoulders through the fabric, and the contact hits deep in my belly.
My cock—which stands to attention every time Josie is in my sight—surges like it can claim her right here and now.
I ignore the insistent bastard and tug Josie’s collar straight, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary near the curve of her neck.
“Gets cool quick this time of year.” I grab her by the shoulders and guide her around, fastening the top button for her, thumb grazing warm skin just below her jaw.
She swallows, eyes lifting to mine, and something soft and open there makes my chest tighten.
I incline my head to my brother, mouth ‘be right back’ and turn to place my hand on the small of her back.
The bell over the diner door jingles behind us, and cooler air slides under my collar. Night has settled softly over Main Street. Streetlights cast warm pools across the sidewalk, and her shadow stretches long beside mine as we fall into step.
She walks close. Not touching, but close enough that the warmth from her reaches me through the cool night air.
I catch the scent of her—soap, skin, something faintly sweet—and draw it in before I can stop myself.
My hand flexes once at my side, then stills.
I slow half a step to match her stride instead of setting the pace.
She stops beside her car, keys caught between her fingers. The metal flashes under the streetlight.
She turns toward me.
The look in her eyes lands low in my gut. Something unguarded there tightens my chest and makes me step closer before I think better of it.
I move slowly, giving her every chance to turn away.
She doesn’t.
Her breath flutters, shallow, and her lips part on a quiet inhale. I feel that small sound more than I hear it. It slides through me, steady and sure, like a door opening.
My hand comes to her waist, firm enough to anchor, gentle enough to ask. Warmth blooms under my palm through the thin fabric of her shirt. She leans into it without thinking, her body recognizing the shape of my hand before her mind catches up.
I lower my mouth to hers.
The first touch is slow, deliberate—not a brush, not a test. I press my lips to hers with quiet certainty, sealing the space between us. Her breath breaks against my cheek, warm and startled, and then she melts forward, answering in a way that makes my grip tighten.
Her hands fist into the front of my jacket, tugging me closer. The small, desperate sound she makes against my mouth goes straight through me, low and electric.
I deepen the kiss gradually, giving her time to follow. Her lips soften, open, and she tilts into me, heat rising fast where our bodies meet. I can feel the tremor in her through my hand at her waist—not fear, not doubt. Want.
Her breath grows uneven, warm against my mouth, and I ease back just enough to draw air before taking her lips again, slower this time, savoring the way she presses up into the kiss like she’s been starved for it.
When I finally lift my head, I don’t go far. My forehead rests against hers, her breath brushing my mouth in short, unsteady pulls. Her fingers are still tangled in my jacket, holding on like she needs the contact to stay upright.
I don’t smile. I just let my thumb move once, slow, along her side, grounding us both.
She looks at me like the world just shifted under her feet.
And the way she kissed me back?
That tells me everything I need to know.
Asher
I lean back in my seat and watch them through the diner window.
The glass throws back reflections of streetlights and passing headlights, but I can still make out the shape of them on the sidewalk.
Logan stands close, one hand low at her waist, his head bent toward hers.
Josie’s hands are fisted in the front of his jacket.
Her fists look small against his broad chest, but there’s nothing uncertain about the way she holds on.
I don’t look away.
I don’t need to.
My coffee has gone cold in front of me, but I lift the mug anyway, taking a slow swallow that tastes like burned grounds and sugar. My chest feels loose, steady, the way it does after a long day of work done right.
Loreen swings by with the check, and I slide it toward me without looking at the total. She raises an eyebrow, following my line of sight to the window, then back to me.
“Your brother making friends?” The corner of her mouth lifts, and the sunlines beside her eyes crinkle.
I huff a quiet breath that almost turns into a smile. “Something like that.”
She nods like she’s seen it all before and moves on.
Outside, Logan steps back just enough to look at Josie, and even from here, I can see the way she sways a little. He says something low. She answers, and the sound of it must please him, because his shoulders ease, tension draining out of him in a way only I would notice.
There’s no spike in my gut. No tightening. No urge to get up and interrupt.
Just a slow, deep warmth that spreads through my chest.
Logan doesn’t take things lightly. If he’s touching her, if he’s looking at her like that, it’s because he’s already decided she’s worth the care that comes after.
And she looked at us both tonight. Not measuring. Not choosing. Just… seeing.
That’s what matters.
I sign the check and leave cash under the edge of the plate. The bell over the door jingles when I step outside, cool air brushing my face.
They’re a few yards down the sidewalk now, standing close but not touching, the space between them softer than it was earlier. Logan glances back when he hears the door. Our eyes meet for a second.
No question there.
Just a quiet understanding we’ve had since we were boys, the kind that doesn’t need words.