Logan

Logan
Logan
Seeing Nadine and Hardin at the restaurant makes my head pound instantly, a sharp headache forming at my temples. I try to look away, but my eyes stay glued to her.
She throws her head back in laughter, completely carefree, and it does something to me. It hurts.
She looks happy—truly happy. But it’s not just her. The way Hardin looks at her... it’s different.
There’s something in his eyes, something deep like she means the world to him. I can’t put it into words, but it stirs something inside me, something raw and painful.
Shawn’s words echo in my mind. "I like him because he makes you smile a lot."
I didn’t want to believe it. But now, watching them, I can’t deny it. It’s the fucking truth. And it rips me apart.
The client I came here to meet was talking, trying to get my attention, but I barely heard a word.
I nod absentmindedly, pretending to listen, but my focus is elsewhere. All I want to do is march over to that table, grab Nadine’s hand, and take her home. Our home.
But our house doesn’t feel like home without her. It’s empty. Cold.
I miss her. Every damn day. And it hurts—so much that sometimes I wonder if my heart will just give out.
The tightness in my chest comes in waves, hitting me hard every time she crosses my mind.
"Let’s reschedule," I say abruptly, standing up. "I’m coming down with a headache." It’s not entirely a lie.
The client nods, shaking my hand firmly, but I barely register it. My eyes remain locked on Nadine, watching her.
Kayla was here earlier, and I guess she and Asher are getting kind of close.
I just hope their love doesn’t end up as complicated as what Nadine and I have. But honestly, that should be the least of my worries right now.
I watch as Hardin and Nadine get into the car, and within seconds, they’re gone. My jaw clenches, and my grip on the steering wheel tightens so much that my knuckles start turning white.
Take a deep breath.
I groan loudly, then let my head fall against the steering wheel.
"Fuck."
Why does this hurt so much? Why does watching her with him make me feel like I’m being ripped apart from the inside?
I need to calm down before I do something reckless—before I make things worse and have to start over with Nadine all over again.
Think. Think. Think. I repeat it like a damn mantra, but my thoughts are too chaotic, too tangled in emotions I can’t control.
I finally turn on the ignition and start driving, but my mind is all over the place. The streets blur past me, and my focus shattered.
I don’t even realize where I’m heading until my car comes to a stop.
Right in Nadine’s driveway.
"Fuck. What is this?"
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair before stepping out of the car. My feet move on their own, leading me straight to the entrance.
The concierge recognizes me immediately.
“Good evening, sir,” George greets politely, reaching for the phone, probably to call Nadine.
But I shake my head and walk past him. I don’t need an invitation.
I take the elevator up, and when the doors slide open, the sight in front of me knocks the air from my lungs.
Nadine.
Standing there in a skimpy nightie that barely covers a damn thing.
Something inside me snaps.
She stares at me for a fraction of a second, like she’s seen a ghost.
And then, she notices the way my eyes rake over her body. Her posture stiffens, her arms crossing slightly as if she suddenly feels exposed.
I don’t think so. I didn’t hesitate.
Before I even register what, I’m doing, I crash my lips on hers.
It’s not gentle. It’s raw, desperate, and filled with every single ounce of longing I’ve been holding back.
She stumbled slightly from the force, but I didn’t let her go. My arms wrap around her, keeping her steady.
God, I’ve missed this. Missed her.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this could spiral out of control. I know this might make her hate me even more.
But right now?
I don’t give a damn.
All I want is her lips on mine.
She kisses me back, matching my intensity, and for a moment, it’s just us—Nadine and me against the world.
The sparks between us are undeniable, that same electric pull that’s always been there, igniting every nerve in my body. God, it feels so right, like this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.
I deepen the kiss, my hands instinctively moving to cup her ass, and she shivers under my touch. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging me closer like she never wants to let go.
And neither do I.
I want to stay like this forever.
But then—she freezes.
She pulls away so fast, it feels like she just snapped out of a trance, like I burned her.
Shit.
My heart drops as reality crashes down on both of us. This is it. This is the fucking end.
I’ve ruined everything—the progress we were making, the fragile understanding we were slowly building.
Her eyes burn into me, blazing with something raw and intense. It makes my lips part, but no words come out. I’ve never felt this shaken by anyone.
But Nadine?
She makes me feel like a damn fool. Like love itself is a crazy, reckless, beautiful kind of disaster, and I’m right in the middle of it.
She squeezes her eyes shut, inhaling sharply like she’s trying to convince herself this isn’t real—that she’ll wake up any second, and this will all just be a dream.
But when she opens her eyes, there’s no waking up.
I’m still standing here.
She rushes at me, fists clenched, slamming them against my chest. I let her. I didn’t stop her.
Let her get it out. Let her feel everything.
The anger, the hurt, the frustration—let her break if she needs to because God knows I’ve already shattered into a million pieces over her.
Her fists slow, her strength fading, and she groans loudly before collapsing against me.
I freeze.
She’s vulnerable, and right now, all I want to be is the shoulder she leans on.
I don’t know what this means for us. I don’t know if she’ll regret this moment or if I’ll have to fight even harder tomorrow. But she hasn’t pushed me away. She hasn’t cursed me out.
That has to mean something.
Gently, I wrap my arms around her, holding her as she sobs into my chest. My heart clenches painfully at the sound, at the way she trembles against me.
I scooped her into my arms, and she didn’t resist. Her arms loop around my neck as I carry her to the couch, my heart pounding so loudly I know she can hear it.
I inhale deeply, breathing her in, letting her scent around me.
Slowly, carefully, I place her down, watching as she curls into herself.
I didn’t move.
I just stay.
Because no matter what happens next, I’m not letting her go.
I can tell she’s exhausted. She doesn’t have the strength to fight back, to push me away, or even throw one of her usual sharp comments my way. She’s completely drained—physically, emotionally, in every way possible.
And then, just like that, she drifts off to sleep.
I stay still, watching her.
Her breathing evens out, her face softens, and for the first time in a long while, she looks at peace.
But damn it, her skimpy nightie isn’t helping matters.
I let out a slow breath, shaking my head, before carefully lifting her into my arms. She barely stirs as I carry her upstairs.
Yes, I know exactly where her room is.
I know every detail of this damn penthouse—because I was there when she was about to buy it.
She had no idea, but I made sure the price was slashed by thirty percent.
She probably thinks she got lucky with a great deal, but the truth is, there was an anonymous hand pulling strings behind the scenes.
Mine.
I push the thought away as I step into her room, gently laying her down on the bed.
For a fleeting second, I hesitate.
I sit beside her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way she looks so effortlessly beautiful even in sleep.
I want to stay. I want to be here when she wakes up.
But I know better.
Instead, I pull the duvet over her, making sure she’s comfortable, my fingers brushing her cheek lightly before I force myself to step back.
With one last lingering glance, I turn around and walk out of her room.