Chapter 11
Dani
The first thing I noticed when I pulled into Logan’s driveway wasn’t the house—it was the pair of tiny pink sneakers sitting neatly by the door.
The house looked completely different in daylight than it did that first night.
The first night, everything had been shadow, ocean air, and nerves.
Now the details came into focus: rows of beachside condos stretched along the sand.
All looked similar, each shaped by time, salt, and the people who lived inside.
A few doors had surfboards propped beside them; others had potted plants or wind chimes that clicked softly in the breeze.
Logan’s truck, an older-model black Chevy, was parked in the driveway. It was the kind of truck that didn’t care if it impressed anyone, as long as it got you where you needed to go.
Beyond the line of condos, the beach opened up to sloping dunes and the ocean. I could smell the salt and feel it cling faintly to my skin as I stepped out of the car. The whole place had a calm that sank into my bones—the kind you don’t realize you’ve been craving until it’s right in front of you.
As I parked my car in the driveway, my stomach fluttered in that ridiculous way it always did when I was nervous. I smoothed my blouse, already accepting Harper would probably cover it in glitter, and grabbed my bag. By the time I reached the door, it opened before I could knock.
“You’re here,” he said.
Of course, he’d say it like that. No greeting. No soft landing.
Logan stood there, one hand braced against the frame, with an expression that was completely unreadable.
No smile, no warmth. Just a flicker in his eyes as he caught my gaze, then looked away.
His shoulders were rigid, as if he were bracing for impact or waiting for something to go wrong.
Whatever hit him, he buried it fast, leaving only that tense set to his mouth.
I swallowed a smile. “Last I checked.”
His gaze met mine for only half a second, searching my face briefly, before he stepped aside and pulled the door open wider for me to enter, still silent.
I stepped inside, immediately hit by the cool air.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” he said behind me, nodding toward my bag.
“It’s not much,” I replied easily. “But I like to be prepared.”
A low, noncommittal sound was all I got back.
I shouldn’t have noticed the way his gruffness settled over me, not as a slight but as something grounding. Strangely, I liked the rough edges, their honesty. There was comfort in knowing exactly where I stood with him.
Harper appeared a second later, before the silence could stretch too far.
“Dani!”
She ran straight into me, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist.
“Hey, superstar.” I laughed, reflexively catching her and holding her close.
“I missed you,” she said, like it was obvious.
“I missed you, too.”
And I meant it.
She pulled back to inspect me, eyes narrowing. “You look fancy.”
I glanced down. “Give it an hour.”
Behind us, Logan made a sound—almost a laugh, rough and barely there. I felt it more than I heard it. And for a second, I wanted to turn around. To catch it. To see if it softened him the way it felt like it did.
I didn’t.
Because wanting to catch a man’s almost-laugh was not something I was doing, not tonight, and not with him.
“Okay,” he said, stepping back into that controlled tone like it was second nature. “I’ll walk you through everything.”
I straightened a little without meaning to. Like I needed to prove something before he’d even started.
I raised a brow. “Everything?”
“It’s just bedtime,” he said quickly, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Just bedtime,” I repeated, watching him now.
He nodded once. “Dinner will be ready when you get here. Bath’s at seven-thirty, not later. She likes the water really warm. Bedtime by eight-fifteen—she likes one story, sometimes two if she’s had a good day.”
“Strict schedule, huh?”
He stopped.
I leaned against the counter, studying him—not his words but the way he said them.
He held himself so tightly, as if losing control meant something might slip.
For a moment, his hand tightened on the edge, and his knuckles turned almost white.
The flicker of worry was there, raw and unguarded, until he built the wall back up.
“You’re acting like I’m going to mess this up,” I said gently.
Even though part of me wondered whether he might have a point.
Maybe I was taking on more than I could handle, or maybe I was just doubting myself.
Either way, I was already cataloging it all, mentally repeating it back.
Seven-thirty. Warm water. One story, maybe two.
I couldn’t afford to get it wrong. I didn’t want to get it wrong.
Not with Harper, and not in front of him.
“I didn’t say that,” he said, although there was little confidence or reassurance in his tone.
“You didn’t have to.”
There was a pause, and his gaze held mine longer this time. “I just want her to have consistency,” he said.
“Right,” I nodded. “And I can do that. With maybe a little fun mixed in.”
“She has fun,” he said immediately.
“I’m sure she does,” I replied, not pushing, just steady. “But I’m also pretty sure she’ll survive if we go off-script a little.”
“That’s how it starts.”
I smiled despite myself. “You might want to loosen up a little.”
His green eyes narrowed, but there was less edge to it now. Less resistance. More thought.
“Someone has to keep things in line.”
“And someone has to remind you it’s okay if they’re not,” I said.
And for some reason, that felt like more than just winning an argument.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he said again. “If anything feels off, you call me.”
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I know,” I said, meeting his gaze.
“I appreciate it,” he said finally.
It wasn’t casual.
“I know,” I replied softly.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Harper’s voice cut through it, bright and hopeful. She stood near the table, watching us and waiting for the answer with an eager smile.
I glanced at Logan before looking back at her. “Am I invited?”
“Yes,” she said immediately. “We’re having spaghetti, and I help, and sometimes I mess it up, but Daddy says it’s okay.”
I smiled, warmth spreading through me before I could stop it.
“Sounds like a pretty good deal.”
She looked at Logan expectantly.
He hesitated.
Of course he did.
Then he nodded once. “Stay.”
Simple, direct.
But it landed somewhere deeper than it should have.
And as Harper grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the table as if I’d always been part of this, I felt it again—that shift I hadn’t figured out how to name.
This wasn’t just babysitting.
It wasn’t just helping.
It felt like stepping into something that already had space for me.
And the worst part?
I didn’t want to question it.
I wanted to stay right where I was.