Chapter 43
Dani
Itold myself I just needed space.
That I’d go home, clear my head, get some work done, maybe take a long bath, do something grounding. That’s what I always did when life felt too big: I retreated, threw myself into work, and found order in the middle of emotional chaos.
I had spent the drive from Huntington Beach to Anaheim on the phone with Cami. She fulfilled her best friend duties of listening to me vent and telling me my attachment wounds were showing, and that I “better go get my man”. My heart knew she was right, but my head wouldn’t stop spinning.
But by the time I unlocked my apartment door, that confidence was already starting to crumble.
My apartment was still.
The kind of still that reminded you no one else lived there. No laughter, no soft hum of the dishwasher, no little voice asking for one more bedtime story. Just silence, the kind that hugged the walls and got under your skin.
I dropped my bag on the couch and sank into it as the city outside buzzed faintly. Cars, sirens, a distant hum of life. But in here, it was just me.
And I hated it.
My apartment had never felt small before. But tonight, it did.
Everywhere I looked, there was something that reminded me of them.
The tiny Barbie hairbrush Harper had forgotten on the counter.
Logan’s shirt that he’d let me borrow, that still smelled faintly of him.
A picture Harper had made for me at school and left taped to my refrigerator when we’d stopped by my apartment one day before dance.
I tried to work. Opened my laptop. Stared at the screen. Closed it again.
The words wouldn’t come.
All I could think about was the way Harper had leaned over in the back seat earlier, eyes heavy with sleep, and murmured, She lives with us now too.
And the way Logan had looked at me afterward, like he’d already made up his mind that somehow that we fit.
It was almost nine when I made a cup of tea and sat by the window. The city lights blurred through the glass, turning into streaks of gold.
I thought space would help me breathe. But it just made everything louder. I’d been in their lives for just a few short weeks, and I was already falling apart just a few hours without them.
I missed her laugh.
I missed his calm.
I missed them.
The ache in my chest wasn’t hurt anymore — it was longing.
And longing, I realized, was just love with nowhere to go.
I sat with that thought, feeling its weight before reaching for my phone. I noticed a new message from Logan sitting at the top of my screen.
Logan: Thinking of you, Counselor. Always.
I smiled softly, my heart catching on the familiar warmth of the nickname.
I stared at those words, reread them three times, and felt the tears come as they blurred the screen.
I typed a dozen replies, then erased them all.
Finally, I just whispered into the empty apartment, “I miss you.”
The walls didn’t echo it back, and that was when I realized I didn’t want to be here anymore.
I didn’t even think as I grabbed my keys. I just slipped into my shoes, pulled a sweater over my tank top, and headed for the door.
The drive felt automatic, muscle memory guiding me through familiar streets under a tranquil sky, the air thick with salt from the water. I kept telling myself I just needed to see them, but even as I thought it, I knew that wasn’t the truth.
When I pulled into the driveway, the porch light was still on.
For a moment, I just sat there, hands resting on the steering wheel, heart thudding as I tried to piece together what I wanted to say.
Through the large front bay window, I could see Logan sitting on the couch with a book in his hands that he clearly wasn’t reading. His hair was tousled in the way that always left me flustered.
And then, as if he felt me there, he looked up. Our eyes met through the glass, and something in me shifted before I even moved. By the time I reached the door, he was already there, opening it.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hey,” he said, voice rough from surprise or maybe relief.
We stood there in the doorway, the air between us thick and warm and electric. In that brief moment before words, I felt a flicker of hesitation, a question lingering in the charged air. Yet, as I looked at him, I knew I was already too deep to turn back.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said softly. “It was too quiet.”
He nodded once. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”
“I thought space would help,” I admitted. “But all it did was make me realize how much I missed you both” My voice cracking between words.
“Harper’s asleep,” he said gently. “But she asked about you before bed. Said you’d come back.”
“She always believes in happy endings,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low.
He stepped closer, “You sure about this?” he asked quietly. “You don’t have to explain or promise anything. I just need to know you’re here because you wanna be.”
I swallowed hard, every wall I’d built starting to crumble. “I am.”
And then I said the words that had been sitting at the back of my throat since I left.
“I don’t know what comes next. I just know that being away from you felt wrong.”
His jaw flexed, and then he reached up, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “Then come inside, Darlin.”
I smiled faintly as he leaned forward to kiss me.
When we finally broke apart, my forehead rested against his chest, both of us breathing the same air.
“I wasn’t gone long,” I whispered.
“Long enough,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Next time, just take a walk. Don’t go too far.”
I smiled, feeling a comforting laugh bubble to the surface. “Deal.”
He took my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and led me inside.
The house felt different from my apartment. It was warmer, fuller. Everything looked exactly as I’d left it.
Logan’s boots were by the rug, my half-empty bottle of wine abandoned on the counter, and a book with one of her hair ties marking a page.
As we walked past Harper’s room, I peeked in. She was sprawled across her bed, her little dolphin tucked under her arm, her face peacefully caught in dreams.
I whispered, “Night, superstar,” and she stirred just enough to mumble, “You came back.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, tears burning behind my eyes. “I came back.” Before gently kissing her forehead,
Logan’s hand squeezed mine gently as we stood there watching her.
And this time, I didn’t feel like I was crossing a line I wasn’t supposed to.
I felt like I was stepping into the place I was always meant to be.
Home.