Chapter 31
Logan
Another week in Florida down.
Another red-eye home.
The stale taste of recycled cabin air still clung to my tongue as the plane bumped to a stop at the gate.
Most of the guys on the job stayed put on weekends—dive bars, beaches, whatever passed for decompression. I always came back. Not because I wanted to. Because I couldn’t not.
I stepped off the plane, jaw clenched tight and shoulders already tensed, feeling like each stride toward the terminal was one taken into a confrontation rather than toward my own damn house.
Airports always got under my skin. Too much noise, too many people moving with purpose while I felt stuck somewhere between things, between jobs, between versions of myself, between who I’d been and whatever I was becoming.
The loudspeaker announcements echoed overhead, destinations that sounded as distant as I felt.
The last time I’d been home, Dani and I had fought.
Not raised voices or slammed doors. In a lot of ways, it had been worse than that. The kind of argument where every word landed exactly where it was meant to. Neither of us walked away clean.
I’d accused her of meddling.
She’d accused me of freezing my life in place.
And the look on her face when I said This is Elena’s house, like I’d drawn a line she hadn’t known was there, had stayed with me ever since.
So stepping off the plane this time didn’t feel like coming home. It felt like walking back into the aftermath.
I tried to convince myself I’d done the right thing. Told myself I was preserving something sacred. But the truth grew heavier, like a lead weight in my gut, with every mile closer to home. I hadn’t really been protecting Elena’s memory.
I’d been protecting myself. Not just from Dani, but from the gut-deep fear that returned every time I let myself want her.
It wasn’t just the risk of wanting—I was afraid of losing.
Losing her, losing control, losing the hard-won life I’d built.
Opening up, even hoping for more, felt reckless.
Being close to Dani was like standing knee-deep in the surf, undertow pulling at my legs, knowing if I relaxed for a second, I’d be dragged under.
The fear wasn’t just about vulnerability or change. Or having someone become important and then watching them leave. It was that I could already feel the current dragging me. Everything in me said keep my feet planted and don’t let go.
That scared me more than anything the world could throw at me.
I thought back to the early mornings in the kitchen, lingering with a mug in hand, Dani leaned back against the counter, her hair falling forward as she grinned at me. “So, do all Southern men make coffee this strong, or is this a special form of torture?”
“It keeps me awake,” I said, ignoring the way her smile made my throat go tight. “And you drink it anyway.”
She nudged my hip with her socked foot. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t poison yourself.”
I snorted, but she just laughed. The sound bounced off the tile.
Our stories wandered, circling old arguments about movies, who made the best sandwiches, and the smallest details that secretly mattered.
The clinking of mugs filled the pauses. Some silences stretched out longer, until it was hard to remember why I’d been keeping walls up at all.
Conversations with Dani had fallen flat in the last week.
Texts that had been playful and cheeky had fallen back to simple updates on Harper’s day-to-day movements.
There were no more FaceTimes that stretched into hours of talking and teasing banter.
Her making fun of what she called my “southern twang” or hearing about the way she fought for clients in a courtroom, it was all gone.
The fun pictures of Dani and Harper, tangled up in their usual chaos, stopped, replaced by ones that showed only my daughter.
And while I loved seeing Harper’s face, I also missed seeing hers.
The shift left a hollow ache in my chest. Each message felt like a door closing.
Each was a reminder of how easily connection could slip away.
I’d find myself scrolling through old messages just to remember the warmth in her words.
I caught myself wishing for another dumb joke or a picture of her smile.
The silence stung more than I wanted to admit.
Even with Harper and work, the loneliness crept in.
It settled in the quiet spaces where she used to be.
Dani had said she’d be busy this weekend; errands, catching up. She’d said it lightly, as if not acknowledging the intentional space she’d been placing between us. And that was likely for the best; space was good, necessary.
I stepped outside into the dry California heat, spotted my waiting Uber, and slid into the back seat. As the car pulled away from the curb, I tried to relax, tilting my head back against the headrest while we merged into traffic, leaving LAX.
Hunter: BBQ tomorrow @12pm.
Pool’s open.
Nick: The kids and I are in!
My jaw clenched.
I knew Dani would be there. Instantly, my brain betrayed me: sun-kissed legs, that unbidden laugh, the oversized sunglasses forever on her head.
I shifted in my seat, irritated I’d let myself go there.
I didn’t deserve to picture her like that, didn’t deserve to want anything that complicated my life, my grief, or my daughter’s stability.
She wasn’t mine; just someone who’d slipped past my defenses when I wasn’t looking.
Me: Might be tired.
A lie. I was always tired, and the reply came almost instantly.
Sean: Come on, old man!
Hunter: Harper already knows.
There is no getting out of it.
I closed my eyes, chest tightening in that familiar, uncomfortable way. The Uber made a slow left, the subtle shift of the car snapping me back for an instant as sunlight flickered across the dashboard. I wanted to see my kid. Wanted to be home.
And damn it, I wanted Dani too.
I wanted the feel of her hand in mine. The sound of her laugh filling the kitchen.
Her stubbornness made me want to fight and give in at the same time.
The way she stood up for the people she cared about.
I wished I could tell her all of it. Admit how much I missed the way she made the day easier.
I kept picturing her waiting for me on the porch.
I wanted to pull her close, breathe her in, let her see all the things I never said out loud.
Hell, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to drop my guard, just for a minute, and take the risk.
That realization pissed me off more than anything. And by the time the car pulled into my driveway, I still hadn’t answered. Instead, I grabbed my bag, stepped out into the heat, and shut the door harder than necessary.
This weekend was already a problem.
And I hadn’t even unlocked the front door yet.
???
The second I stepped out onto Hunter’s back patio, the sharp scent of chlorine hit my nostrils, and the relentless sun stung my skin.
It wasn’t because of the crowd. It wasn’t because of the beer already sweating in my hand.
It wasn’t even because Sean was there, shirt off, loud as ever, already halfway into a story no one had asked for.
It was because of Dani.
She stood near the edge of the pool, as if she owned the space simply by being in it.
Her sunglasses were pushed up into her hair, and she wore the kind of easy smile that drew people in.
As one of the kids said something funny, Dani threw her head back in laughter, her whole face lighting up in a way that made it impossible not to look.
I stopped short, and Hunter caught it immediately.
He leaned in close, voice low, amused. “Told you this was a great idea.”
I shot him a look. “Didn’t ask for commentary.”
“Didn’t need to,” he said. “Your face said it all.”
I took a long pull from my beer and forced myself to scan the rest of the yard.
Kids were everywhere, with Harper running through the sprinkler alongside Cami and Hunter’s twins, her shrieks seemingly trying to break the sound barrier.
The grill was enveloped in smoke, filling the backyard with the smell of charred burgers.
Nearby, Nick leaned against the fence, phone out, pretending he wasn’t watching his kids every two seconds.
A normal BBQ like ones we’ve had a hundred times before.
No matter how hard I tried, my eyes kept finding Dani. Each glance was a silent confession, a tug-of-war between restraint and want. My grip tightened on the bottle until my knuckles blanched. Every beat of my heart seemed keyed to her laughter—traitorous, impatient, impossible to ignore.
Eventually, she caught me looking. Although she didn’t smile right away. Just tilted her head, lips curving slowly, like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
I exhaled, struggling for composure.
I turned back to the guys and muttered, “Someone hand me another beer.”
Sean obliged immediately, smirking. “You drink like that every weekend, Carter, or is this a special occasion?”
“Only when I’m surrounded by idiots,” I said.
He laughed, unbothered. “Fair.”
We stood there for a minute, the clink of bottles and the sound of kids filling the space between us. Hunter leaned against the railing,casually watching me over the rim of his beer.
“So,” he said lightly. “Dani looks good.”
I didn’t answer.
Sean followed his gaze. “Yeah, she does. You’ve got one nice-looking nanny,” Sean said, grinning.
I felt a prick of discomfort at the term. “Don’t call her that,” I said, sharper than I intended.
Sean lifted both hands, laughing. “Easy, man. Wasn’t a dig.”
“It was. She’s not a nanny,” I snapped. “She’s Cami’s best friend. Family.”
Sean nodded slowly. “And is she still single?”
The question landed heavier than it should have, my stomach tightening as jealousy crept in, revealing more than I’d meant to let slip.
“Probably,” Hunter cut in, smirking. “But good luck. Cami would bury you in the backyard.”
“That a challenge?” Sean grinned.
My jaw clenched, and as the heat of the moment flared, I accidentally jostled the beer bottle in my hand. The cold liquid splashed over my fingers and onto the grass.
“You don’t know when to stay in your lane, do you, Sean?” I said, sharper than I meant to.
“What?” Sean protested. “I’m just asking.”
Hunter shook his head. “Man, if looks could kill…”
Sean’s grin widened. “Damn. You sound territorial.”
“Just don’t want you embarrassing yourself.”
Hunter laughed outright. “Sure you do.”
I took a long drink of my beer, eyes back on Dani. I tried not to look as she came out of her shorts, now only wearing that navy blue bikini top and bikini shorts that looked too damn good on her. Harper had dragged her toward the pool, both of them shrieking as the fountain kicked back on.
Her laughter was infectious, the kind that made children beam and adults remember what it felt like to be carefree.
Dani’s attention to Harper was genuine, as if all her focus was on making sure Harper had the best day possible.
Her skin glowed in the sun, but it was her spirit and warmth that truly illuminated the yard.
Hunter studied me for a beat, then leaned in closer, voice dropping. “You gonna keep pretending you don’t see it?”
“See what?”
“That you’re halfway gone already.”
“Drop it,” I said.
Sean laughed, clapping my shoulder. “Relax. I don’t go for my friends’ women.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
“She’s not—”
Hunter cut in smoothly. “Not his woman,” he said. “Yet.”
I shot him a warning look. “Bennett.”
“What?” he said, innocent. “Just stating facts.”
Cami wandered over then, wiping her hands on a towel. “What are you boys brooding about?”
“Logan’s pretending he’s immune to women,” Hunter said.
Cami’s eyes flicked to Dani, then back to me. She smiled like she knew something I didn’t. Or maybe like she knew exactly what I was fighting.
“Food’s ready,” she said. “Before the kids revolt.”
As I prepared a plate for Harper, she came barreling toward me, dripping wet, curls plastered to her forehead, asking for another Popsicle.
I crouched instinctively, wiping water from her cheeks. “How many have you had?”
“Two.”
“Then no.”
She pouted. “You’re the worst.”
Dani appeared behind her, smiling as if she’d already known the answer. “Told you he’d say no.”
Harper crossed her arms. “You should be in charge.”
I glanced up at Dani. “Traitor.” Her laughter was unapologetic, and then she brushed her fingers lightly against my forearm, the touch as casual as her words.
“Someone has to balance you out,” she said with a certainty that seemed to reach right inside me.
Harper grabbed Dani’s hand and dragged her back toward the cooler, already mid-story about something dramatic involving a sprinkler malfunctioning.
Dani looked back over her shoulder at me, eyes soft.
I didn’t know when it happened. Only that the truth was weighing on me like a ton of bricks: I couldn’t stop thinking about Dani.
It was as if her presence had turned up the brightness in my world, a light in the shadows I’d long accepted as permanent.
Her laughter, echoing down the hallways, replaced the silence that once hung heavy in our home. She fit seamlessly into our lives.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I’d buried my wife six years ago. Held Harper in my arms before she ever got to know her mother. I once built my entire life around not needing anything I could lose again, but then Dani showed up.
Across the yard, Dani looked too good in the sun. Too bright. Too alive.
And for the first time in a long time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I’d been in the dark long enough.
And maybe, letting her in wouldn’t ruin me.