Chapter 5
POV: Suzy
He turned away, jaw tight. “The girls are brushing their teeth. I got the mattress and extra blankets. You take the bed.”
“Logan—”
“I insist.”
“But—”
“I’ll take the floor.”
I hesitated. Then nodded, because arguing with him never worked anyway.
The girls were already curled up under the comforter, giggling and whispering. Lily’s damp hair was twisted into Izzy’s braid. They looked like they’d always belonged there together.
And, somehow, I didn’t feel out of place either.
The lights were off, the room dim with only the sliver of hallway glow sneaking in under the door. The girls had finally fallen asleep, tangled in Izzy’s sheets, their soft breaths and occasional giggles giving way to the silence of exhaustion.
I lay in Logan’s bed—because he insisted—while he settled on the mattress on the floor beside me, arms folded behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Which was ridiculous. Logan Kaiser radiated control like most people radiated heat.
He was too comfortable for my peace of mind.
Shirt clinging to his chest just right. That shadowed jawline catching the faint light.
Hair a little messy now, like he’d run his hands through it too many times.
I was pretty sure the T-shirt I wore still smelled like him, and I was trying very hard not to notice how that made my body hum.
I turned to my side, propping my head up on one elbow to look at him.
He didn’t move—just stayed there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like it held answers.
“Can I ask you something?” I whispered.
His gaze shifted to me.
“Have you ever thought about dating again?” I asked softly.
He paused. Long enough that I backtracked.
“Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. It’s probably too personal.”
He kept looking at me, eyes darker in the low light. Then he exhaled.
“It’s okay. It’s a fair question.”
Silence settled again. Then he spoke.
“It was… hard. After Izzy’s mom left.”
I didn’t move. Just waited.
“She was an Olympic gymnast. That’s how we met. After her second surgery. I wasn’t her surgeon, not anymore—we were past that boundary when we started dating.”
His voice was quiet, like it was still fragile to say out loud.
“She had so much fire. So much drive. She couldn’t sit still if her life depended on it.”
I smiled softly. “Second surgery?”
He nodded. “Gymnastics takes a toll. Most elite athletes end up with a list of injuries. Multiple procedures. Especially if they stay in it too long.”
I bit my lip. “God, I hope Lily doesn’t have to go through that.”
“She’s still young,” he said. “It’s usually later on. And even then, not every kid goes that far.”
I let out a breath. “Good. Because if it gets risky, I might sabotage her career just to keep her in one piece.”
That pulled a laugh from him. A real one. Low and warm.
“You would.”
“Damn right I would,” I said with a grin.
He went quiet again, then continued.
“She kept going. Even after Izzy was born. Wouldn’t stop training, wouldn’t stop competing. She never really made room for being a mom.”
The way he said it made my heart twist.
“She traveled, trained, rehabbed from more injuries. And then… during one of her surgeries, she got too attached to the painkillers. At first it was manageable, but eventually even the strongest ones weren’t enough.”
My throat closed up.
“She moved to heavier stuff,” he said. “And I tried everything. Every clinic, every treatment. I was juggling Izzy, my job, and a partner who didn’t want help. She didn’t want to get clean. And one day, I realized it was just me and Izzy.”
God.
“She’s your whole world,” I whispered.
“She is.” His voice cracked slightly. “She kept me going. And some days, I still feel like I’m not enough for her.”
“You are,” I said fiercely. “You absolutely are.”
He glanced at me, and for a moment, I swore I saw something break open in his chest. A raw edge of pain and pride. Then he looked away again.
“I tried dating. But most women…” He shook his head. “They’re interested in the image. The doctor. The CEO. Or they think it’s sweet I’m a single dad, until they realize Izzy’s not optional.”
“She shouldn’t be,” I said.
“Exactly.”
We fell into a softer silence. One that felt heavier and safer all at once.
Then he turned the question back on me.
“What about you? Why no boyfriend?”
I let out a breath. “Because I’m a wine-and-couch girl in a world of clubbing and small talk. I’ve always been a workaholic. Building my career, taking care of family, and telling myself I’d deal with love later. Only now… I look around and realize time’s flying by. I want something real,
but I’m not great at finding it.”
Logan’s gaze hadn’t left me.
I smiled, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not a party girl. I’m not even sure I’d know what to do at a party anymore.”
“That’s not a flaw,” he said. “That’s peace.”
We both laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that comes from mutual recognition. From something cracking open and feeling okay to breathe into.
“Thanks for this,” I said, voice soft. “For being honest.”
He nodded. “You make it easy.”
Our eyes held again in the dark. Longer than they should have. Deeper than I expected.
“Good night, Suzy,” he said finally, voice hoarse.
“Good night, Logan.”
I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling.
But sleep didn’t come for a long time.
Because his voice, his story, and that look in his eyes kept echoing in my chest—loud and warm and dangerous.
The smell of coffee hit me before I even opened my eyes.
I blinked slowly, adjusting to the unfamiliar ceiling—and then to the weight of everything that had almost happened the night before.
Logan’s voice, low and warm, drifted from the other side of the room.
“Room service’s here. I didn’t know if you’d want to head down to the buffet.”
I sat up, heart fluttering. “Depends. Did you steal all the good stuff?”
He turned, holding two coffee cups. “I watched you at breakfast yesterday. You take your coffee with two sugars, no cream. And you always grab the berry yogurt and one of those mini croissants you pretend not to like.”
I stared at him.
He shrugged, setting my cup down on the nightstand like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I observe.”
“Clearly.”
He smiled—small, cocky, completely disarming—and went back to unpacking the trays on the table near the window. There were eggs, toast, fruit, even the exact brand of granola bar I kept in my bag. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him or interrogate him.
“Are you secretly in the CIA?”
He gave a soft laugh. “Just a surgeon with a thing for detail.”
My heart pounded at the casual way he said it—like the fact that he knew me that well didn’t scare him one bit.
The girls were still asleep, tangled in blankets on the bed behind me, soft breaths rising and falling. The morning light spilled through the window, casting the room in a golden hush that felt…like it belonged to us.
I padded over and took a bite of croissant, chewing slowly. He poured juice, then reached for his own coffee—and that’s when it happened.
A slight bump. A splash. A low curse.
And coffee stained the front of his pale gray shirt.
“Damn it,” he muttered, grabbing a napkin.
I moved to help, but he waved me off, setting down his cup and pulling the shirt off in one swift motion.
And then time stopped.
Every nerve ending in my body snapped to attention.
Because Logan—Dr. Logan Kaiser, grumpy orthopedic surgeon and walking enigma—was standing shirtless in the middle of the hotel room like he didn’t just destroy every coherent thought in my head.
He wasn’t just fit. He was carved. Defined lines, firm chest, toned stomach. The kind of body you only get from years of physical discipline—and absolutely no tolerance for carbs past 9 p.m.
I swallowed hard.
He caught me staring, just briefly, and his mouth curved into something that might’ve been smug. Or maybe hopeful.