Page 70 of Somewhere Without You
Logan poured coffee into the handmade mug before carrying it over.
“Iwasn’tsure how you take it anymore,”he said, handing it to me.
I wrapped my hands around the mug,feelingthe heat seep into my fingers.“Just a splash of cream. Nothing fancy.”
He nodded and sat on the edge of the coffee table, balancing his own mug on his knee.
I tilted my head, eyeing him.“I thought you said you didn’t like coffee?”
“I don’t,”he replied, grimacing at the mug before taking a cautious sip.“Butyou do.AndI want to share the things you love, with you.”
I smiled, cradling my own cup and breathing in the warm, comforting scent.
We sattherefor a minute, drinking coffee and letting the quiet settle again.Therewassomething about this momentthatmade my chest ache in agoodway. Like hope, but quieter.
Logan reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face.“I don’t expect this to be easy.”he said, breaking the silence.“Ijustwant you toknowI’m here.Howeverlong it takes.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, the emotion rising too fast.“I don’tknowhow to do this yet.”
“You don’t have to,”he said, his hand finding mine.“Youjusthave to trust me.”
I set the mug down and gave him a half-smile.“I’ve always trusted you.”
We ate in companionable silence, pausing to laugh at Winston whoseemedto keep inching closer each time we took another bite.
“I shouldprobablyhead out soon,”Logan said after we finished.“Change into some fresh clothes, check on things.Maybego to work.”
I nodded, my heart sinking a little.“Yeah. Of course.”
He watched me for a moment, then gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ll come back tonight. If you want me to.”
I squeezed his fingers.“I do.”
Logan kissed my foreheadgentlyand stood, wincingslightlyas his hand brushed over his eye. Iwatchedhim walk to the door, hesitant to break the moment.
“Logan?”I called after him.
He turned, hand on the doorknob.
“What you said. . . last night? Ifeelthe same way.Just, please be patient with me.”The last time I told someone I loved them, it destroyed me. IknewI loved him, but once those words left my mouth, I couldn’t take them back.
His expression softened.“I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting, if that’s how long it takes.”
I looked down at my hands, then back up at him. “You mean that?” I asked, heart stumbling in my chest.
He crossed the room, stopping in front of me. Then, gently, his fingers brushed my cheek, like I was something fragile he wasn’t ready to lose.
“I’ve never meant anything more.”
His mouth found mine with aching slowness—no urgency, just truth. The kind that settled in your bones and made you forget how to breathe.
He kissed me like a promise. Like the years we lost didn’t matter, because this moment was ours.
And I kissed him back, like I’d been waiting my whole life to remember how.
February 2nd, 1864
West Virginia
