Page 29 of Life After You

My throat tightens, and I nod, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “I just—”

“Shh.” He pulls me into his arms again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone anymore.”

For a moment, I let myself lean into him, let myself believe his words. The room is silent, the weight of it all pressing down on me. Patty busies herself at the counter, wiping an already clean surface, while Dean shifts awkwardly behind us, the scrape of his boot on the floor breaking the stillness.

Logan finally lets me go, but his hand slides down to my lower back again, staying there, a silent reassurance. He glares warily at Dean, his expression unreadable but somehow unyielding. “Thanks for being here for her.” His voice is polite but firm, with no mistaking the subtle edge in his words.

Dean hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yeah. No problem.”

I take a shaky breath and step back, rubbing at my eyes. “I should get back to work,” I mumble, trying to gather what’s left of my composure.

“No,” Logan says immediately. His tone isn’t sharp, but it leaves no room for argument.

I frown, crossing my arms. “I can’t just—”

“You can,” he interrupts, his gaze steady on mine. “And you will.”

Patty clears her throat, chiming in, “He’s right, Kayla. Take the rest of the day. We’ll be fine here.”

I blink at her, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Fine,” I mutter, throwing Logan a half-hearted glare.

He just smirks, that lopsided grin that has no business looking so good, and holds out his hand. “Good. Let’s go.”

His eyes land on my injured hand, and I know the moment he notices the bandage. His expression darkens. “And you can tell me why the fuck your hand’s bandaged.”

He pauses, his gaze flicking back up to mine, something unreadable behind those blue eyes. “And while you’re at it, you can tell me how the hell you ended up here.”

I sigh, ignoring his offered hand, and brush past him, heading for the door. But before I can push it open, his hand lands gently on my lower back, guiding me like he always has.

Outside, the sun hits my face, and the cool breeze stings my cheeks. I glance up at Logan, and the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that matters in the world—makes my heart ache.

“Thank you for coming,” I whisper, the words barely making it past the lump in my throat. My heart beats so loud I’m sure he can hear it.

Logan’s gaze softens, and before I can say anything else, he reaches for my good hand, his fingers sliding between mine with a certainty that feels like home. Like they’ve always belonged there.

He looks at me with those eyes, blue and intense, his voice low and gentle as he says, “I’ll always come for you, angel. Always.”

The world quiets, the words sinking deep into my soul. And in that moment, I know he means it.

Chapter Ten

Logan

The taxi dispatch says the taxi will arrive in ten minutes, leaving Mac and I standing outside with nothing to do. I start hummingEnter Sandman,and Mac’s eyes fall on me, speculation shining in them.

“What?” I ask.

“Metallica? Really?”

“What should I be singing? Miley Cyrus?”

“I happen to like Miley...,” Mac says, flashing me a smile.

“I can’t believe you! You have such terrible, terrible taste,” I groan.

“This coming from the guy who hasPower Rangerpajamas?”

“I’ll have you know,Power Rangerswas the shit back in the day,” I say loftily. Mac laughs, that soft genuine sound that I haven’t heard in far too long. It does something to my chest—like it unclenches a part of me that’s been locked up for years.

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