Chapter 7
POV: Suzy
He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “God, why do you feel so good?”
Then his lips were back on mine, coaxing, claiming, tasting like he was devouring me from the inside out.
His hands held my hips firmly, fingers drifting under the hem of his shirt—my shirt—brushing bare skin with a kind of reverence that felt like worship.
And then—
“Mmhh…”
Lily, stirring.
We both froze.
I pulled back, breathless, heart hammering against my ribs.
Logan closed his eyes, like it physically hurt to stop.
“They’re sleeping,” I whispered. But even I didn’t believe it.
His voice was low. Raw. “Yeah… we shouldn’t.”
“No.” I nodded. “You’re right.”
I slid off his lap, retreating to my side of the bed, facing the wall. My body was still burning. My pulse refused to slow down.
After a long minute, I heard him settle again on the mattress.
But the air between us?
Still on fire.
And there was no going back.
I woke up to the scent of coffee.
And him.
The bed was empty, but his warmth still lingered on the pillow beside me, a quiet, cruel reminder of how close we’d been. How close we’d come.
I sat up slowly, heart still raw from the night before.
Across the room, Logan stood by the counter in his sweats, focused on the coffee machine. His hair was damp, like he’d just showered. He moved with the kind of controlled energy I recognized—he was nervous.
So was I.
“Morning,” I said, voice hoarse.
He looked up. Nodded. “Morning.”
That was it.
No trace of last night’s kiss.
No mention of the way I’d been in his lap, or the way he’d whispered into my mouth like I belonged to him.
We slipped into that fragile, avoidant dance—both of us pretending nothing had happened. Bumping into each other in the small room as we moved around the girls’ bags, the tangled clothes, the chaos of competition day prep.
“Sorry,” we both mumbled at one point, stepping into each other’s path again.
The tension was unspoken but alive, pulsing in the air like static.
But the girls? The girls were electric.
Lily had already changed into her warm-up outfit, bouncing in place with excitement. Izzy was sitting cross-legged on the bed, stretching like a little warrior.
I smiled at them both, then turned to the kitchenette and got to work.
“Alright, champions,” I said, filling two mugs with warm, frothed milk, a dash of cocoa, a pinch of cinnamon, and a swirl of honey. “Time for the official Suzy Connor Good Luck Potion.”
Lily gasped. “Is it the secret one?”
“The very one,” I nodded solemnly, handing over the mugs. “Carefully formulated to enhance sparkles, balance, and girl power.”
Izzy took hers with both hands, her eyes wide. “Will it work?”
“Of course. But only if you believe in it.”
Lily giggled. “I believe in Aunt Suzy’s magic!”
Logan looked over from where he was double-checking Izzy’s gym bag, something flickering in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold.
I crouched down between the girls. “Now, come on. Let’s get you two braided and gorgeous.”
They sat at my feet like little queens, and I got to work—combing and parting, braiding with slow precision. It was a quiet, gentle rhythm. My fingers moving through their hair, the cocoa steam curling around us like something sacred.
“Hold still,” I murmured. “You’ll thank me when your glitter stays in place through every flip.”
Lily leaned into me like she always did, resting her cheek against my thigh while I finished Izzy’s braid. Izzy didn’t lean in—but she didn’t pull away either. I caught her watching me in the mirror, quiet and unsure.
I smiled at her reflection. “You nervous?”
“A little,” she admitted, voice small.
“Good,” I said. “Means you care.”
Logan hadn’t said a word in a while. I glanced over and saw him leaning against the wall, arms crossed—but his gaze was soft. Unmoving. Fixed on me like he didn’t know what to do with what he was feeling.
Like he was watching something he wasn’t ready to want this much.
“You’re really good with them,” he said under his breath when I stood.
I shrugged, brushing glitter off my hands. “I like them.”
“No,” he said. “It’s more than that.”
Our eyes caught again, and for a second, the world narrowed. My breath caught, my fingers still tingling from his daughter’s hair. From all the love I wasn’t supposed to be handing out so freely.
But then Lily shouted something about needing her lucky scrunchie, and the spell broke.
Just as it should.
But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.
The arena pulsed with electricity—bright lights, pounding music, and that breathless, suspended energy that only finals day could summon.
Izzy and Lily had just wrapped up their routines. Lily landed her dismount with a beaming smile, practically skipping back to us, her cheeks flushed, eyes shining with adrenaline and joy.
“She nailed it,” Logan murmured beside me, voice low and brimming with pride.
I grinned, heart swelling. “So did Izzy. They’re a hell of a duo.”
He nodded but didn’t look at me. Not really. His eyes kept scanning the arena, sharp and restless, like he was either waiting for something—or deliberately avoiding looking at something specific.
So I followed his gaze.
And saw him.
One of the assistant coaches—young, tan, and annoyingly cocky—was leaning against the barrier, smirking at me like we’d already shared something I wasn’t aware of. And then, just as I was praying he’d turn around and leave, he started walking toward me.
My breath caught.
“Hey,” he said, flashing a practiced grin.
“Hi,” I answered warily.
“I watched you with the girls—Lily and Izzy. You’re really great with them. Are you like... Izzy’s hot older sister?”
I nearly choked on my own saliva.
Beside me, Logan went still.
I didn’t even get the chance to respond.
“No,” Logan bit out, voice sharp as glass. “She’s not.”
His tone wasn’t just clipped—it was lethal. His jaw locked so tightly I was worried he’d crack a molar. Shoulders squared. Body rigid. Eyes locked on the poor guy like he’d just committed a federal offense.
If looks could kill, we’d need security and a mop.
I turned slowly toward Logan and arched a brow. Seriously? I mouthed.
“I’m Lily’s aunt,” I clarified to the coach, forcing a polite smile despite the awkward tension curling around us.
The guy didn’t get the hint. “Cool, cool. So... maybe when all this is over, you’d wanna grab a coffee?”
I blinked. “Thank you, but I have plans with Lily after the finals.”
His brow furrowed, clearly not used to rejection.
“Well, take my number anyway,” he said, scribbling it onto a crumpled napkin and holding it out like a peace offering.
I took it mostly to avoid more drama—and watched him jog back to his squad.
“You’re not keeping that number,” Logan muttered, crossing his arms tightly.
“Excuse me?”
He didn’t answer. Just growled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like idiot.
The universe, ever dramatic, chimed in with a loud buzzer announcing the break period. Perfect.
I walked toward the bathroom area, trying to calm the storm in my chest. But when I spotted Logan down a quieter hallway near the warm-up zone, I turned toward him.
“Hey,” I said, approaching. “Got a second?”
He glanced over. “What’s up?”
I motioned to a private prep room nearby. He followed. I closed the door behind us, locking it.
“You tell me,” I said, crossing my arms. “You glared a hole through that assistant coach like you wanted to throw him off the balance beam.”
“He was being inappropriate.”
“He asked me for coffee, not a lap dance.”
Logan snorted, the sound dry and angry. “Yeah? Well, he didn’t ask you to dinner—he asked for coffee and called you Izzy’s hot older sister. Come on, Suzy.”
I stepped closer, fire licking under my skin. “You don’t get to be jealous, Logan. Not if you’re going to keep pretending last night didn’t happen.”
His eyes darkened, jaw clenching. “I’m not pretending.”
“Really? Because you kissed me like it meant something—and today we’re back to sidestepping each other like awkward coworkers.”
“You think this is easy for me?” His voice cracked with something raw. “I’ve spent years holding it all together. For Izzy. For my job. For me. And then you show up and—” He stopped himself, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.
“What?” I whispered. “What do I do, Logan?”
He looked at me then—really looked. And whatever was holding him back just shattered.
“You shine,” he said hoarsely. “You come in with your messy kindness and glitter hairbrushes and cinnamon cocoa, and suddenly my daughter is happy. I’m smiling again. I’m waking up actually wanting the day.”
My heart twisted.
“You make me feel things I thought I’d shut off for good,” he added, stepping closer. “And I hate how much I need that.”
I swallowed hard, the tension so thick it burned.
“Then what the hell are we doing?” I asked, voice trembling.
“I was waiting,” he whispered. “Until the competition ended. Until I could ask you to dinner. Away from the girls. Away from all of this.”
My chest caved in with emotion.
But I didn’t get a chance to respond.
Because he stepped forward, cupped my face in both hands, and kissed me like the world might stop spinning if he didn’t.
This time, there was no hesitation. No holding back. Just heat and hunger and all the words we hadn’t said, poured into touch.
He tasted like sin and home.