Page 92 of What It Means To Be Found

I widened my eyes at him, “You stole her romance novel?”

I thought it was yours. Logan shrugged as if that explained everything.

“Wh-what?” I shook my head once, setting his phone down to sign clearly, When did you take the book?

A small secretive smile touched Logan’s lips, his handsome face making my heart flutter before he replied, Our first night together. You fell asleep, and I saw it on the floor. I took it.

My mouth was parted, still just flabbergasted as I stared down at his phone in my lap, all those romance novels on there, while processing the knowledge that he stole a paperback of a romance novel as well.

Because he thought it was mine.

“But…” I shook my head and signed the rest of my question, Why?

Logan gently cupped my chin with his hand and tilted my face up towards his. He brushed his lips over mine, once, twice, before pulling back and lifting his hands, I wanted to get to know you. What you like. He pressed his lips to mine again, his tongue gently tracing my bottom one before pulling back enough to continue signing, I was scared I would do something to make you hate me again, and I thought maybe reading your favorite books would help me…out.

I felt my lip trembling from the vulnerability Logan was sharing with me on this flight. I remembered feeling similarly sentimental the night he came over from the bar to rub my legs and cuddle with me on the couch because my period was so bad that day. He had been just as supportive and soothing every cycle I had after that moment.

This man read romance novels because he knew I liked them.

Because he didn’t want us to go back to that place that I put us in when we first met.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, I think.” I smiled up at him, swiping away a sentimental tear that escaped my eye and rushed down my cheek. Logan leaned forward to kiss my forehead gently, and I pulled back to continue my thoughts.

“I love you.”

Logan froze, one of his hands on my jaw, as his dark eyes locked onto mine.

“You don’t have to say it back,” I added, smiling, “But that’s where I’m at. I just…thought you should know.” I bit my bottom lip a little, before releasing it and smiling up at him instead.

Logan looked wrecked.

I couldn’t tell if it was a good wrecked or a bad one, but his face had gone slack and it looked like he was trying to control his breathing to make it stay even.

“…Seriously, you don’t have to—” I was cut off with his tongue immediately entering my mouth. I giggled against his sudden kiss, thinking that this was a funny way to move past the awkward, “I said I love you but you aren’t ready to say it back” moment. I didn’t want him to feel guilty or embarrassed or nervous about my declaration. I wouldn’t hold it against him because I realized how fast I had developed these feelings. That we had only been officially dating each other a month or so. I wasn’t worried about it. I knew Logan had no interest in anyone else. A man didn’t read dozens of romance novels because the woman he was dating likes them, if he was only casually interested in her.

After kissing me way more aggressively than was appropriate on a very public flight (thank god no one had the aisle seat on the other side of Logan), he separated our faces and I could feel just how ridiculously swollen and plump my lips were from his.

I blinked a few times, trying to compose myself as I remembered where we were, and pulled back to smile brightly at him.

It’s okay, I signed.

I love you, Eloise, Logan signed back, a smile pulling on his own lips as he cupped my face with both of his hands, pressing another smacking kiss on my mouth, then lowering his lips to my ear to whisper in his low, scratchy voice, “I love you.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep myself from sobbing, or whining, or releasing whatever noise was about to come out of my throat from the sound of Logan’s voice whispering those three words.

I pulled away enough for me to sign back to him, I love you.

I love you, He immediately signed again, grinning as if he was a person who had just discovered the words.

“It’s not like, a get-the-last-word-in thing.” I laughed, “You don’t always have to say it when I do.”

I love you, Logan signed anyway, touching the tip of my nose with his index finger before I grabbed it and kissed it.

I love you! I signed more enthusiastically, as if I was trying to get the last word in.

Logan grabbed my hands to kiss them on the knuckles, and I was immediately brought back to the memory of us at Josh and Courtney’s engagement party. Where Logan once again tried to call a truce between our childish bickering, and I was too stubborn and prideful to take him seriously. I had tried to storm off, and Logan had grabbed my hands to press a quick kiss on my knuckles.

Based on the look Logan was giving me as he kept his lips on my hands, I knew he was remembering the same moment.

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