-Hailey-
I woke up to the smell of coffee. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, soft and golden, and I blinked, disoriented. My body felt heavy like I’d slept for days, and the sheets were tangled around me.
Logan was already up. I could hear him moving around in the kitchen, the faint clink of a spoon against ceramic, the low hum of a radio playing something old and bluesy.
I stretched slowly, my muscles protesting slightly, and grabbed my phone from the nightstand, glancing at the time.
Almost noon.
Memories from last night crashed over me, and I froze for a second.
Matt. The gun. The blood.
But then Logan’s voice drifted in from the kitchen, low and steady.
He was singing. He was… singing?
I exhaled, pushing the thoughts aside, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
His hoodie was draped over the chair by the dresser, and I grabbed it, pulling it over my head. It was big enough to swallow me whole, the sleeves falling past my hands, and it smelled like him – leather and smoke. I hugged it tighter to me as I tiptoed into the kitchen.
He was leaning against the counter with a mug in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants. His hair was messy, his face soft with sleep, and the tattoos that snaked across his skin were muted in the daylight.
He looked… peaceful. Domestic. Like this was any other morning.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought there was a dog dying in here or something,” I said, my voice teasing but still rough with sleep.
He glanced up, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Ouch! Afternoon, Ace. Sleep okay?”
I nodded, sliding onto one of the stools at the island. “Better than expected.”
He handed me a mug of coffee, the steam curling up into the air. “Here. Hazelnut creamer, just like
I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my skin. “Thanks.”
He watched me for a second, his gaze lingering.
you
like it.”
I sipped the coffee, the bitterness waking me up. The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the radio. It felt….. normal. Like this was just another morning, and we were just another couple.
Like last night hadn’t happened at all.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and I reached for it, almost knocking my mug over in the process. It was a text from
Stella.
**You okay? I just saw your fiancé’s name in a news article. What’s going on?**
I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting. The coffee suddenly tasted bitter, and I set the mug down, my hands shaking.
Logan was still watching me, and his brows shot up. “What’s wrong?”
13:07 Mon, Dec 22
Chapter 29
I handed him the phone without a word. He read the text, his jaw flexing, and then he handed it back.
970
160 Vouchere
“Shit,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. I hadn’t even thought about the fallout… the news, the cops, Stella and the girls.
It all felt like a distant nightmare, but here it was, staring me in the face.
Logan leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “You wanna tell her?”
I chewed on my bottom lip, staring at the text. “I have to. She’s my friend. She deserves to know.”
He nodded, his green eyes steady on me. “Then tell her. But keep it simple.”
I exhaled, my fingers hovering over the screen. How did you even begin to explain something like this? ‘Hey Stella, so I shot my ex last night. No big deal.
I settled for something simpler. **It’s a long story. I’m okay. Can we talk later?**
Her response came almost immediately. **Of course. Call me when you’re ready. I’m here.**
I set the phone down, my shoulders sagging with relief. “She’s worried.”
“Course she is,” Logan said. “She cares about you.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, staring at the mug in front of me. The coffee was cooling now, the steam fading. “I… I didn’t think about how this would affect everyone else. Stella, the shop… the club.”
Logan stepped closer, his hand brushing my shoulder. “Who gives a shit? You worry about you. The rest will work itself out.”
I looked up at him. His face was calm but serious. “How are you so… okay with this?”
He shrugged, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “I’m not. But one of us has to be.”
I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “Thank you.”
He squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Nothin‘ to thank me for, Ace.”
I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get how much he’d done for me.
How much he’d changed everything in the few days I’d known him.
The radio was playing some old blues song, the melody slow and haunting. Logan leaned down, planting a kiss on my forehead. “You want breakfast?”
I glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You cook?”
He smirked, stepping back and pulling open the fridge. “I make a mean omelet.”
I laughed, the sound surprising me. “You have eggs? And they’re not rotten?”
He grabbed a carton of eggs and a block of cheese, setting them on the counter. “You’re gonna regret doubting me.”
I watched him move around the kitchen, his hands confident as he cracked eggs into a bowl.
It was strange, seeing him like this
–
domestic, almost soft. It didn’t match the man I knew, the man who’d walked into Matt’s house last night with a gun in his hand and fury in his eyes.
Or maybe it did… Maybe this was just another side of him. I realized I probably still had a lot to learn about him.
13:07 Mon, Dec 22 MJ
Chapter 29
370
55 vouchers
I watched him whisk the eggs like they’d personally offended him, muttering about my lack of faith. It made me laugh. For a second, the smell of the stove almost drowned out the phantom scent of gunpowder. Almost.
Then his phone buzzed.
He wiped his hands on a towel, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the screen.
“Jake,” he muttered, swiping to answer. “Sup?”
I watched him. Something about the way his jaw moved told me this wasn’t a casual call.
Logan listened for a second. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His eyes flicked to me, and my stomach dropped. “Alright, we’ll be down.”
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He took the pan off the stove and turned the burner off as I waited with bated breath.
“Put some pants on, Ace.”
The mug in my hands suddenly felt ten pounds heavier. “Why?”
“Cops are downstairs,” he said, his voice rough. “They wanna talk to you.”
C
AD
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
