Chapter 46 Chapter 45
Harper POV
I wake up slowly, the kind of slow that feels heavy.
Not groggy.
Heavy.
My first thought is that I’m still dreaming. That my brain is replaying something it wants too badly.
Then I feel warmth behind me.
An arm.
A solid, unmistakable arm.
Reality hits like a cold splash of water.
Oh.
Oh God.
I don’t move.
I don’t even breathe for a second.
I just lie there, staring at the wall of Logan Shaw’s bedroom, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might give me away.
Last night comes back in flashes. Heat. Hands. His voice saying my name like it mattered. The way everything inside me went quiet and loud at the same time.
And then the part I can’t stop thinking:
What did we just do?
Logan shifts behind me, his arm tightening slightly around my waist like it’s instinct, not conscious. Like even in sleep, he’s holding on.
That makes something in my chest ache in a way I don’t want to examine.
Carefully, I slide his arm off me and inch forward, putting space between us. The sheets are a mess. My clothes are… not where they should be. His room smells like him—clean soap, something woodsy, something very, very Logan.
I sit up slowly, pulling the sheet around myself like that will protect me from the enormity of this.
From him.
He makes a low sound behind me, rough and sleepy.
“Harper…”
Just my name. No edge. No attitude. Just… quiet.
I close my eyes.
Here it is.
The moment where he wakes up and realizes what he did.
The moment where he regrets it.
The moment where I find out exactly how stupid I am.
He shifts again, then sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. I don’t look at him at first. I can’t.
The bed dips as he moves closer.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
I swallow. “Hey.”
Silence stretches.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
Loaded.
“I—” he starts, then stops. Clears his throat. “You okay?”
That’s not what I expected.
I glance at him. He’s not smirking. He’s not distant. He’s not looking like he’s planning his escape.
He looks… wrecked.
Tired. Barely holding it together. Like his thoughts are going as fast as mine are.
“I think so,” I say honestly. “You?”
He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and a curse at the same time. “Yeah. I mean. Physically. Yeah.”
We both know that’s not what matters.
I clutch the sheet tighter around myself. “So… what now?”
The question hangs between us like a live wire.
He looks at me for a long moment, jaw tight, eyes searching my face like he’s trying to read something that scares him.
“I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen,” he says finally.
My heart stutters. “That’s… not what I asked.”
“I know.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “But that’s the part I need to say first.”
I study him. Really study him.
This is the guy who runs from emotional messes. The guy who compartmentalizes everything. The guy who pretends he doesn’t care.
And right now?
He looks like he cares too much.
“I don’t know what this is,” he continues. “And I don’t know how to do it right. But I know I don’t want to wake up and act like you were just… a mistake.”
That word makes my chest tighten.
“A mistake,” I repeat quietly.
He looks at me sharply. “That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you’re afraid of,” I say.
He doesn’t deny it.
I look away, my throat burning. “Logan… you were with someone else two nights ago.”
He winces. “I know.”
“And you’ve spent years making it very clear I’m not—” I gesture vaguely, “—your type.”
He exhales hard. “I was an idiot.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say. “That’s a dodge.”
He turns toward me fully now. “You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
He holds my gaze. “I’ve been scared of you.”
I blink. “That’s… not what I expected.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “You see too much. You don’t let me hide. Everyone else is easy. Fun. Temporary. You’re… not.”
That shouldn’t make my chest warm.
It does anyway.
“And now?” I ask softly.
“Now I don’t know how to put you back in a box,” he says. “And I don’t want to.”
The room is quiet except for the hum of the house.
I think about the auction. The gala. The team. The rumors. The absolute mess this could become.
“I don’t want to be your secret,” I say.
He looks up instantly. “You wouldn’t be.”
“I don’t want to be something you try for a week and then decide is too complicated,” I add.
He doesn’t answer right away.
That scares me.
“I can’t promise I won’t screw this up,” he says finally. “But I can promise I’m not walking away from you today.”
That’s… something.
Not everything.
But something.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
He studies me. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeat. “We… see what this is. Carefully.”
A small, crooked smile touches his mouth. “Careful. That’ll be new for me.”
I almost smile back.
Almost.
Then reality crashes back in.
“The gala,” I say.
He groans. “Yeah.”
“And the auction.”
“Yeah.”
“And your team.”
“Yeah.”
“And my sorority.”
“Definitely yeah.”
We look at each other.
This is not going to be simple.
“I should go,” I say quietly.
He nods, but there’s something reluctant in it. “I’ll walk you.”
“I know how to get home,” I say.
“I know,” he replies. “I still want to.”
That… does something to me.
When we stand, the air between us is different. Softer. Charged. Uncertain.
At the door, I pause.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Last night wasn’t nothing to me.”
His eyes hold mine. “It wasn’t nothing to me either.”
I leave before I can overthink that.
And for the first time, I don’t know if I’m walking away from a mistake…
Or toward something that could change everything.