Page 36 of Life After You

His arms tighten around me, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear again. I lean my forehead to his shoulder, breathing him in, feeling drunk on his scent. I let my fingers graze over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

God, how did I ever think I could do this without him?

He says nothing, just holds me close, and in that moment, it feels so natural. There’s no awkward tension, no hesitation—just ease. Like we’ve never been apart, like everything is as it should be. It feels effortless, like no time has passed at all, like I haven’tspent months convincing myself I didn’t need them, didn’t need him.

Slowly, gently, his hand drifts up my back, tracing light patterns over my spine before sliding around to my jaw. His fingers are warm, steady, reverent as they trace the curve of my face. He brushes his thumb along my cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering for just a second too long.

I swallow hard, the sound of static filling my ears as my pulse thrums. What’s he thinking? In those beautiful blue eyes, what’s going on in that handsome head of yours, Logan Dale?

Maybe I should pull away. With how his touch, his words, are making me feel... I should say something.

But I don’t.

Because I want this. I want him.

Logan shifts beneath me, his thigh pressing between mine, his fingers still curled lightly at my jaw.

My gaze drops to his lips, and for a split second, I wonder—what if?

What if I closed the space between us? What if I let myself give in to the pull that’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface?

Would he kiss me back? Would it change everything?

Or would it ruin us?

Logan’s fingers tighten, just slightly, like he’s caught up in the same storm. His breath is warm against my skin, his lips a whisper away. My heart hammers against my ribs, my entire body locked in place, waiting, wanting, terrified.

He lets out a breath, low and shaky, and drops his forehead against mine.

A silent surrender.

A choice not to cross the line.

Not yet.

It doesn’t feel like rejection. I don’t feel further upset, nor do I notice any more pain. I can feel my body calling out to him, and my tears have almost boiled away. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed—maybe both, maybe neither.

All I know is that I stay in his arms, my fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, my face still close enough to feel his breath. Then, my stomach betrays me with a loud rumble.

He looks at me, one brow quirked, a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Perhaps we should get some dinner.”

My ability to speak is limited, so I simply nod.

The diner is quieter in the evening, the usual lunch rush replaced by a handful of regulars and the occasional drifter looking for a late bite. The air smells like coffee and something sweet—brownies, if I had to guess. Patty always bakes a fresh batch around this time, and if Logan thinks her eggs are life-changing, he’s about to have a religious experience.

I lead him to a booth by the window and slide into my seat, watching as he takes the one across from me. “Alright, rock star. Now’s your chance to make an impression.”

Logan raises a brow, his lips curling slightly. “Make an impression? I already met the Bruja, and she left a big one. My guess is she already took my measure.”

I smirk, twisting a napkin between my fingers. “Oh, most definitely.”

He leans back in the booth, stretching his arm across the backrest. “Then I’ll focus on enjoying your company and the bountiful feast she will bestow upon us.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Fine, fine. So…” I let the conversation lull for a moment, replaying the past hour in mymind—the honesty, the confessions, the weight that had lifted between us. The lightness feels new but not unwelcome. I could sit in this easy peace, just watching him, soaking up the way he looks at me like I matter. And every time I catch his gaze, my stomach tightens with butterflies, my heart climbing higher in my chest.

Maybe I should get an Apple Watch just to track what he does to me. I bet my heart rate is off the charts.

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