Chapter 41
Dani
The drive home from Hunter and Cami’s the next morning felt slower than it ever had before.
Logan and I had a lazy morning. Waking up slowly as if just enjoying the bubble we had created for ourselves in my apartment.
We didn’t talk about what came next almost because there was a patient understanding in the delicateness of it all and in the fears we both had.
But even without that dialogue, I felt assured and validated.
As if I finally understood exactly where I fit into his and Harper’s world.
And Logan woke up with an edge of relaxation to him.
No longer shrouded by the thick, tall, boundless, walls that used to consume him.
As we drove back home, Harper’s voice filled the car, bubbling and bright, and Logan laughed when he could, asking questions, pretending to keep up with the stream of her thoughts.
“…and then Auntie Cami said no more syrup, but Uncle Hunter gave us some anyway, and we built a fort, and I told the twins that my daddy makes the best forts ‘cause he’s a Marine, and then I told them Ms. Dani helps too, and they said that’s cheating, because she was their Ms. Dani first—”
Her excitement was contagious, but somewhere around the middle of her story, she stopped.
“I like when my parents pick me up,” she said it like a casual truth she didn’t think twice about.
Logan’s hand paused on the steering wheel. “Hey, bug—”
She wasn’t done. “It’s nice. The twins have two parents, and now I do too.
Daddy and Dani.” She paused, thoughtful.
“My friend Mia says she has two moms and no dad, and she drew a picture for show-and-tell of her family. So maybe it doesn’t have to always be mom and dad, just people who love you a lot. ”
The words settled like a soft punch, unexpected and sweet at the same time. Yet the weight of them was heavy.
Logan met my eyes in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “Dani’s special, yeah,” he said carefully. “But she’s not your mom, Harper.”
“I know that,” she said with a tiny shrug, as if it didn’t matter. “But she lives with us now too.”
I couldn’t help the tiny breath I drew in.
Logan and I hadn’t spoken about what came next.
This was just supposed to be until he returned, which he had.
He was to go his way and I would return back to the life of a single, overworked lawyer.
Sure, I’d see them at parties or dance recitals, but nowhere in there was ever consideration for something more consistent, permanent.
That was until Harper weaseled her way into my heart and brought her dad along.
“I don’t live here, sweet girl,” I said gently. “I just helped out for a while.”
“But you could,” she said brightly. “You already make noodles the good way.”
Logan tried not to laugh, but his eyes softened. “It’s been fun having her here, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Harper said with a yawn, settling back in her seat. “You should keep her, daddy-o.”
And that was it. She was asleep five minutes later, her stuffed animal pressed to her cheek, the sunlight flickering over her face as we drove.
The rest of the car ride, neither of us spoke.
The only sounds were the vibrations of the road and the faint rhythm of Logan’s thumb tapping the steering wheel.
When we pulled into the driveway, he turned off the engine but didn’t move. And I stared out the window for a second, trying to slow my racing thoughts, trying to focus on anything but the inevitable conversation that was settling between us.
“I wasn’t ready for that,” I said softly.
“Me either,” he murmured. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know,” I said, forcing a small smile. “She just… feels safe. And loved.”
He looked at me, the weight of unspoken things flickering behind his eyes. “That’s because of you.”
The lump in my throat made it hard to answer.
I walked quietly alongside Logan as he carried Harper inside, her body still heavy with sleep. She stirred once as he tucked her in, mumbling something. He kissed her forehead, brushed a curl from her face, and stood there for a moment too long, just looking at her.
Then, soft and sleepy, she whispered, “Night, Mommy.”
Everything in that moment paused. It was if the very air went still.
I froze in the doorway, heart clenched, while Logan’s shoulders rose and fell slowly.
He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a beat.
As if sensing my unease, he turned to me, his voice low. “She’s dreaming.”
“I know,” I whispered, although my breath caught.
But the word Mommy hung there like a ghost that didn’t quite belong to either of us.
I felt the expectations then in that moment.
The weight of what was truly at stake here.
Something I wasn’t cut out for. I could do temporary, fun, the playful aunt.
But anything more, the risk was too high and I didn’t allow myself to start things when I knew I’d fall short.
Back in the living room, the house was hushed. My bags sat neatly on the couch where I’d left it. Half-zipped, half-forgotten, but suddenly, it felt impossibly heavy.
“I should probably get going,” I said finally.
Logan turned toward me. “You don’t have to rush out; we can watch that movie you mentioned earlier. I want you here as long as you’ll let me keep you.”
“Logan.” I sighed, shaking my head. “This is crazy. I barely came here to babysit. To help out for a few weeks, and now you’re asking me to stay?”
He didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”
I huffed a laugh. “That’s it? Just ‘yeah’?”
“I’m starting to realize that not everything is by the book, Counselor,” he said, voice low, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
That word, Counselor, made something twist inside me. He said it like he knew exactly what I was doing: thinking too much, building walls out of reason when my heart had already stepped past them.
“Logan, you can’t just—” I broke off, exhaling. “You can’t ask me to stay like that.”
“I can,” he said softly, “because I mean it.” He stepped closer, eyes warm, voice even. “The house feels better with you here. She feels better. And so do I.”
“Logan…” My voice cracked. “You can’t build this around me. Not like that.”
“I’m not building anything around you,” he said gently. “I’m wanting to build with you. There’s a difference.”
I looked down at my hands, my heart pounding. “She just called me her mom.”
“I know.”
“And…I don’t want to confuse her.”
“You won’t,” he said. “She knows you. And she knows love when she sees it.”
I swallowed hard. “You make it sound simple.”
“I know its not simple, trust me I know,” he said, stepping closer. “But I’m done letting it feel so complicated.”
“I want to stay,” I whispered. “God, I want to. But I need… I need a little space to think. To make sure this isn’t just because of the timing. Or because it’s easy to get attached when you’re filling empty places.”
He nodded slowly, even though I could see the struggle in his eyes. “Okay.”
“I just…” I sighed. “I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. For you. Or her.”
He reached out, fingertips brushing my cheek. “You’re not running away?”
I shook my head. “No. Just taking a breath.”
He exhaled, the faintest hint of relief loosening his shoulders. “Then take what you need.” Though when he said the words this time, the feeling was so different.
I stepped closer, close enough to smell the faint scent of soap on his shirt, close enough to feel his breath.
“I’ll call you,” I said.
He nodded, eyes locked on mine. “I’ll be here.”
With my brain choosing to abandon me, all I could think about was air.
I rose onto my toes and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t goodbye.
It was soft and slow and full of everything I didn’t have the courage to say yet.
When I pulled back, he still hadn’t moved, just looked at me like he wanted to memorize every detail.
“Goodnight,” I whispered.
“Goodnight, Darlin’.”
I turned, grabbed my bag, and walked out before I could change my mind.
The air outside was cool, the evening settling in quiet and gold.
And as I slid into my car, I looked back once, to see him still standing in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, watching me.