Chapter 4
POV: Suzy
“Dad! I can’t find my sleeping mask!” Izzy’s voice rang from down the hall.
We both froze.
He blinked like he’d just surfaced from underwater, then let out a quiet breath and shook his head, almost smiling.
“Good night, Suzy.”
I leaned against the doorframe, still burning from the almost. Still feeling his voice all over me.
“Good night, Logan.”
Our eyes held. Just a second too long.
Then he turned and walked down the hall.
And I felt it again—just like I had the first time he looked at me across the gym.
Not just attraction.
Something deeper.
Something dangerous.
And something very, very tempting.
The morning sun filtered through the hotel curtains, soft and golden, and for the first time since arriving, I didn’t feel like I was sprinting to catch up.
It was a training day. A buffer between the intensity of rounds.
No judging panels. No glitter tears. Just the girls practicing, the coaches giving notes, and us—the sideline crew—watching from the bleachers with coffee cups in hand.
Logan had one too. Black. No sugar. Of course.
I was still nursing my lemony oat latte when I slid into the seat beside him, our usual spot now. We didn’t say much at first. But it wasn’t awkward. It was just… comfortable.
The kind of quiet that says we don’t need to fill this space to enjoy it.
Izzy and Lily were stretching near the bars, mirroring each other’s movements with precision that made me proud—and a little teary. I blinked it away and nudged Logan with my elbow.
“She’s looking sharp today,” I said, nodding at Izzy. “And Lily’s clearly trying to copy her. I’m afraid I might have a full-blown idol situation on my hands.”
His mouth curved ever so slightly. “Izzy’s a perfectionist. I try not to feed it, but she’s hard on herself.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. But she listens to you.”
“Only when she’s not pretending I’m invisible.”
I laughed softly. “Teenage girls. Equal parts terrifying and amazing.”
He turned to me slightly. “You’re good with them.”
My chest warmed at the quiet compliment. “Thanks. They make it easy.”
We watched for another stretch of time. Izzy nailed a tricky pass on the floor, and Lily immediately tried to mimic her. Didn’t stick the landing. But she got back up.
I whooped like she’d won the Olympics. Izzy looked over, rolled her eyes, but her smirk betrayed her pride.
Logan shook his head. “I don’t know how you have that much energy this early.”
“It’s called personality,” I teased. “You should try it sometime.”
He looked at me with mock offense. “I have personality.”
“Oh? Where do you keep it? In that clinically pressed polo shirt?”
That earned a real laugh. Low. Warm. It settled in my bones and stayed there.
—
Later, we all grabbed lunch together at a café across from the arena. One of those trendy places with big windows and build-your-own bowls. Suzy heaven.
Izzy had a towering poke bowl and was meticulously organizing each bite on her fork. Lily, meanwhile, was mixing her own into chaos with chopsticks.
“So how’d training feel?” I asked between bites.
“Izzy killed it,” Lily said through a mouthful of salmon and rice. “Coach said she’s peaking at the right moment.”
Izzy flushed. “Lily stuck her aerial. First time. And she didn’t even break her face.”
“Hey!” Lily pouted. “Rude.”
Logan raised a brow. “Are you two this savage all the time?”
“All the time,” I said cheerfully. “Welcome to the club.”
Izzy shot me a look. Not annoyed—just a little surprised. Like she hadn’t expected me to fit. Maybe she hadn’t even realized she’d been waiting to see if I would.
Then she gave me the tiniest nod, and something clicked into place. A thread tugging tighter.
Logan saw it too. I felt it in the way his gaze lingered on me, quiet and unreadable.
After lunch, we walked back to the hotel as a little crew. Girls skipping ahead, chattering about leotards and braids and what color polish would win them medals.
Logan kept pace beside me, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“You’re good with her,” I said softly, eyes on Izzy.
“I try,” he murmured. “She doesn’t make it easy.”
“She doesn’t need easy,” I said. “She just needs real.”
He glanced at me. “And you’re real?”
“Too real, sometimes.”
A pause. “It’s not a bad thing.”
The girls darted into the lobby ahead of us, laughing about glitter lotion. I stopped by the elevator and turned to him.
“So,” I said, grinning, “what are the odds we survive a full week of this?”
He smirked. “Honestly? Slim.”
The elevator dinged. The doors opened.
I stepped in, heart still light.
Neither of us knew yet that the real chaos hadn’t even started.
The moment we opened the door to our room, I knew something was wrong.
A damp, heavy smell hit first—like wet carpet and cleaning supplies—and then the unmistakable squelch under my shoe.
“Uh-oh,” I said, stepping back instinctively.
Lily darted in before I could stop her, then froze, wide-eyed. “Aunt Suzy…”
Water pooled across the carpet, seeping out from the bathroom. A pipe must’ve burst. Towels were piled uselessly in the corner, already soaked through. A housekeeping cart sat abandoned just outside the door. Someone had tried. And failed.
I flipped the light switch. Our suitcases were still on the floor—along with half of Lily’s clothes, and my pajamas from last night.
Completely soaked.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Our room just… drowned.”
Logan and Izzy, who had been a few steps behind us in the hallway, stopped at the doorway.
Logan took in the scene in a second. “Stay out,” he told the girls, already stepping past me into the flood zone. “Let me see what’s going on.”
“I think it’s a pipe,” I said uselessly, motioning toward the bathroom.
“Looks like it. Probably burst behind the wall.” He crouched to touch the floor near the baseboard. “Yep. Warm water. Definitely plumbing.”
He was already pulling out his phone, dialing the front desk before I could fully process how everything we had was soaked.
“No dry clothes. No pajamas,” I said aloud, mostly to myself.
“Do you think we’ll get another room?” Lily asked, her voice small.
Logan’s voice shifted—quiet but firm. “Yes, this is Dr. Kaiser from Room 213. My colleagues’ room is flooded, 214. You’ve got a serious water leak.”
He glanced at me, mouth tightening as he listened to the reply.
Then: “I understand, but this is a safety issue. They can’t sleep in there.”
More listening. His jaw flexed.
“No, that’s not acceptable,” he said, and something about the calm authority in his tone made my heart skip.
Another pause. Then a clipped, “Fine. I’ll handle it.”
He hung up, sliding the phone into his pocket.
“They’re overbooked,” he said, meeting my eyes. “No other rooms. They said they could bring extra blankets.”
“And a boat?” I muttered, looking again at the floor.
He didn’t even hesitate. “You’ll stay with us.”
“What?”
“It’s late. You have a kid. So do I. We have room. The girls already sleep in the same bed half the time during meets.”
Izzy grinned. “Best pajama party ever.”
Lily squealed. “Yes!”
“But we don’t even have dry pajamas—” I started.
“I’ve got extra,” Izzy said quickly. “Lily can borrow mine.”
Both girls took off down the hallway like they’d just won the sleepover lottery.
Which left me standing in a damp doorway, looking up at Logan.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare nightgown?”
He paused, like he was calculating something in his head.
He didn’t smile, but something shifted in his expression. “No. But I’ve got T-shirts.”
His voice was low, almost teasing—like he liked the idea of seeing me in one of his shirts.
And God, that hit me harder than I’d admit.
Heat bloomed under my skin.
And I hated how much I liked that.
—
His room was—unsurprisingly—immaculate. Minimal. Dark gray and navy tones. Neat bed. Ironed clothes. A single book on the nightstand.
He handed me a navy-blue T-shirt from a drawer—soft, worn, and huge.
It smelled like him. Clean. Masculine. A little spicy.
Dangerously good.
“Here,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. “Sorry. It’s all I’ve got.”
It almost sounded like he was afraid to look at me.
“It’s perfect,” I murmured, voice thinner than I wanted it to be.
I disappeared into the bathroom to change.
The shirt hit mid-thigh—loose everywhere, but when I moved, it clung in all the right places. The scent of him wrapped around me like a secret. One I wanted to keep pressed against my skin.
When I stepped back out, his gaze snapped to me—
And stopped.
A full beat passed.
His green eyes roamed, slow and unmistakable, from head to toe.
His lips parted slightly.
He met my eyes… then looked lower. Then back up. Then lower again.
Trying not to stare. Failing completely.
The way he looked at me sparked heat through my blood—
Hot. Slow. Dangerous.
God, I wanted to throw myself into his arms right then.
Just drown in it.