Chapter 18
POV: Suzy
Logan’s house was tidy in that way only a man like him could manage — minimalist, everything in its place, as if even the shadows had been disciplined into order.
But when I stepped inside with Lily at my side, clutching her overnight bag and already giggling with Izzy about popcorn and princesses, it felt different.
Warmer. Like the house itself had exhaled.
And then there he was.
Logan met me at the door, his green eyes softening in a way that always stole the air from my lungs.
Without hesitation, he leaned down, brushed his mouth over mine in a slow, deliberate kiss that left no room for doubt, then wrapped me in his arms like he’d been waiting all day just for this moment.
“Hi,” he murmured against my temple.
“Hi yourself,” I whispered back, smiling into his chest before pulling away just enough to see his face.
His hands lingered at my waist as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go, and maybe I wasn’t either.
Behind us, the girls squealed and bolted toward the living room, already plotting their movie night. Agnes was waiting there with her calm, steady presence — Izzy’s longtime babysitter, family anchor, quiet witness to all the chaos.
Logan pressed one last kiss to my cheek before straightening. “Make yourself comfortable. I just need to take a quick call about the hospital before we head out.”
I nodded, still a little dizzy from his touch, and watched him disappear down the hall, phone already pressed to his ear.
Agnes settled into the armchair across from me, her smile kind and knowing. “So, it’s movie night for the girls and dinner for you two, hm?”
“Apparently so,” I said, laughing softly. “They’re convinced they need popcorn, blankets, and a full debate over the best Disney princess. I’m just the referee.”
Her smile deepened, but then her gaze sharpened with quiet intent. “You know, I’ve been with this family for a long time. Through more seasons than I can count. And I’ve never seen him like this.”
My chest squeezed. “Logan?”
She nodded, her eyes glistening just slightly.
“He’s always been strong. Reliable. A good father. But happy? Over the moon?”
She leaned forward, her voice gentle. “That’s you. You’re the light in his life, Suzy. You’ve put light back in his life. In Izzy’s, too. They’re both different since you came along — warmer, softer. Happier. I didn’t think I’d ever see him like this again, but you…”
She smiled, shaking her head as if the words weren’t enough.
“You’re the light he didn’t know he was waiting for.”
The words wrapped around me like a blanket, thick and overwhelming. Emotion hit me so hard it made my throat ache. I pressed a hand to my chest, blinking quickly, afraid I’d dissolve into tears if I so much as breathed wrong. “Agnes… that means more than you know.”
She reached across, gave my hand a soft squeeze, and sat back like the matter was already settled.
And just then, Logan’s voice drifted from the hall as he ended his call, low and warm.
Agnes tilted her head, smiling at me with a little spark of mischief. “See? Even his voice changes when he knows you’re in the room.”
I laughed through the swell in my chest, but the truth was, I believed her. For the first time, I really believed it.
Maybe I was his light.
Some days later, Logan's kitchen smelled like sugar and chocolate, my favorite kind of therapy.
Lily was away for the weekend with Daniel’s parents, which meant the house was quieter than usual — no bouncing footsteps, no endless chatter. Just Izzy perched on a stool at the counter, carefully scooping brownie batter into the pan like she was performing delicate surgery.
“You’re a natural,” I teased, nudging her with my elbow as I slid another spoonful her way.
She smirked, concentration fierce. “Dad says if medicine doesn’t work out, I could be a baker.”
I laughed softly. “I’d buy whatever you baked, no question.”
Her smirk twitched into something brighter, and my chest clenched in that way it always did lately — a mix of awe and love and fear all tangled together. Because I wasn’t just falling for Logan. I was falling for his daughter, too.
Being with Izzy felt easy. She wasn’t a kid who demanded your attention; she gave it carefully, piece by piece, like trust was a currency she rarely spent. And every time she leaned a little closer, let me in a little more, it felt like the beginning of something bigger than me. Bigger than us.
Family.
The word both thrilled and terrified me.
I was wiping batter from the edge of the bowl when the sound of the front door opening drifted in. Logan’s footsteps, steady and familiar, filled the hallway.
“Dad!” Izzy called, grinning. “We’re making brownies!”
But when he stepped into the kitchen, I knew immediately something was wrong. His shoulders were tense, his jaw locked, his expression drawn tight in a way that stole the warmth from the room.
My stomach dropped. “Logan?”
He glanced at Izzy, then back at me, and the flicker in his green eyes made my spine go cold. He distanced himself from Izzy so she couldn't hear, and I followed him.
“What happened?” I asked, voice low, bracing myself.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Elizabeth called.”
The name hit like ice water down my back. Elizabeth. Izzy’s mother. The ghost that haunted every shadow of this house.
I swallowed hard. “What did she want?”
Logan’s gaze dropped, voice rough. “She… had an overdose. She’s in the hospital. Stable now, but—she wants to see Izzy.”
Silence thickened around us. My pulse roared in my ears.
"I don't know if I want to tell her..." Logan said to me, looking at Izzy.
"Let her decide that," I said, and Logan nodded. We both got closer to her.
“Izzy, it's about your mother,” Logan said softly, crouching beside her stool, his big hands braced on his knees.
His voice cracked in a way I’d never heard.
“You don’t have to go. You don’t owe her anything. I need you to know that. But I also don’t want to hide this from you. If you want to know what’s happening with her, you can. It’s your choice.”
Izzy’s spoon clattered against the counter. She looked between us, eyes wide and wary.
Izzy stared at him for a long, quiet moment. Then her lip trembled. “Is she… dead?”
Izzy’s face went pale, and I fought the urge to gather her into my arms right then.
Logan’s face crumpled. He shook his head quickly, fiercely. “No, sweetheart. No. She’s alive. Just sick. At the hospital.”
Izzy nodded once, sharp, like she needed the facts straight before anything else. She blinked fast, her hands tightening into fists on her lap.
Finally, she whispered, “It’s because of her problem, isn’t it?”
Logan closed his eyes. Nodded. The word “yes” seemed too painful to say out loud.
My throat ached as I watched him — this man who carried the weight of everything, who would burn the world just to protect his daughter, now kneeling in front of her with his armor cracked wide open.
Izzy took a shaky breath. Then, with a strength far too big for her small frame, she said, “Then I don’t want to see her. You can tell her I hope she gets better, but… I don’t want to go.”
Logan’s eyes closed, relief and grief warring in the lines of his face. He reached up, cupped the back of her head, and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”
And then Izzy turned. Looked right at me.
“You’re not going to leave too, right?” she whispered. “You’ll stay?”
The question hit like a fist to my chest. My vision blurred, and before I could stop myself, tears spilled hot down my cheeks.
I crouched beside her, taking her hands in mine. “I’ll stay,” I choked out. “I promise, Izzy. I’m not going anywhere.”
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me, small but fierce, and I clung to her like my life depended on it.
A moment later, Logan’s arms came around us both. Strong. Steady. Holding us together like he knew we were all breaking and healing in the same breath.
We stayed like that — tangled, trembling, a makeshift family built from love and scars — until the oven timer beeped and the smell of chocolate filled the air.
And even then, none of us let go.
The weeks after Elizabeth’s call blurred into something I could only describe as… joy. Messy, imperfect joy.
Logan and I didn’t spend a single night apart. He was lighter, freer — I’d catch him grinning at nothing, just Izzy doing homework or me stirring pasta at the stove, and he’d shake his head like he couldn’t quite believe it.
And I was the same. It felt like my heart had finally found the rhythm it had been searching for, and I was terrified of how much I loved it. Loved him. Loved them.
So when the silence came, it knocked me sideways.
That afternoon, I left work expecting the usual — Logan texting me about dinner plans, Izzy begging for brownies again, maybe even another night tangled up in his arms. But instead, my phone buzzed with a single message that made my stomach twist.
Logan:We need to talk. Meet me at the gym.
There was a location pin attached.
I stared at it until the screen dimmed. We need to talk. The four most dreaded words in the English language.
By the time I parked outside the gymnasium, my palms were slick and my chest was tight. The building looked dark, empty, the usual chaos of girls tumbling and laughing replaced by a silence that pressed against the glass.
I forced myself to step inside anyway, every nerve in my body sparking with nerves.
The door creaked shut behind me. My heels clicked against the polished floor. The place was still, too still.
And then I saw it.
The flicker of candlelight. A trail of it, like breadcrumbs, leading me forward.
My breath caught.
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