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We veer off into a tiny sandwich shop where Logan heads over to the register and tells the cashier he’s here to pick up an order. The man behind the counter hands Logan the bag, and he thanks him. Then, we turn to leave for our next destination.

“Let me guess,” I say, peeking at the bag. “Meatball sub?”

“Yep, with extracheese. Just how you like it.”

I pretend to wipe an imaginary tear. “You really do love me, huh?”

He nudges me toward the door, chuckling. “You know I do.”

We walk back to the car and get in, and Logan drives us toward the lake. When we get there, he grabs the blanket we always keep in the trunk and a backpack from the back seat. I smile as I imagine what he could’ve brought as he takes my hand and we walk toward the water. Once we get to our favorite spot, he drops my hand to spread out the blanket, before plopping down and dragging me with him.

“I might have done a few other things to cheese this date up, but I wanted to come here with you. I’ve really missed it.”

Everything melts inside me at that as he starts rifling through the backpack, pulling out a speaker, two bags of chips that seem like mostly air, and two beers already in koozies. He hands me the one that says, “World’s Best Boyfriend” and takes the one for himself that says, “World’s Okayest Boyfriend.”

I squint at them, confused. “Uh, Logan, why did you declare yourself the okayest boyfriend?”

Logan cracks his beer open and it hisses and sputters out of the top.

“Well, if letting you get kidnapped isn’t enough of a reason, let’s go with the fact that this is the first real date I’ve planned for you, and that makes me mediocre at best.”

He says it like a joke, but there’s still guilt underneath it that he hasn’t managed to let go of. I see it in his eyes, how he’s still blaming himself for something that was never his fault. But, I get it, if the roles were reversed, I’d probably be doing the same thing. He didn’t invite Kyle into our lives. He didn’t put that darkness in Kyle’s head that made himthink and do the most awful things. And yet, he still carries it.

Adjusting to life again has been challenging, not because of Logan, though. He’s been the only thing that’s felt solid and grounding, and I’m so grateful his company decided to let him work remotely indefinitely. I’m sure getting stabbed in the parking garage after a mandatory meeting made them rethink their policies. But part of me still feels like I’m waiting for something to go wrong whenever we’re in different rooms. It’s why I decided to take time off work until further notice. I want to go back because I love narrating, but I also need to feel safe while doing it. Sometimes, all it takes is a shadow shifting in the corner of my eye that sends me spiraling.

The fear doesn’t ever truly leave. It just quiets down enough that I can forget for a while, and Logan being around all the time makes forgetting easier. Being with him, wrapped in his arms or listening to him breathe beside me at night, always helps remind me I’m safe.

I haven’t figured out how to feel fully like my old self again. I don’t even know if that version of me still exists, but we’re working on it in therapy. I started earlier this week and already had my first two sessions. We agreed to twice-weekly meetings online until we feel I’m in a good place to transition to once-a-week sessions.

What we talked about this week was finding joy in little things—like Logan insisting this is our first real date, even though we’ve been inseparable for a decade and have had a scheduled date night for basically half of it—even if we told ourselves it was platonic.

We also discussed how healing isn’t a linear process, and that being safe doesn’t always mean I feel safe. But beingwith Logan is the one thing that always feels right. Because Logan isn’t just my person, he’s my home, and I know I’m his, too. So I reach out, threading my fingers through his and squeezing gently.

“You’re not mediocre,” I promise him. “You were the only person who fought like hell to find me. I’m here because of you, and I don’t need you to be perfect—I just need you to be you. That’s more than enough, babe.”

He squeezes my hand back and nods once, like he’s absorbing the words and trying not to let guilt consume him.

“Okay,” he murmurs, finally managing a small smile. “Then I’m gonna start working toward being the world’s best boyfriend. Like, award-winning levels. I want a trophy. Or at the very least, a custom mug. Maybe one of those stupid koozies, too, declaring it for everyone else to see and be jealous of.”

I snort as we slip back into our normal rhythm. “I’ll add it to the list. You can earn it.”

He nods solemnly like it’s his sole focus now, then hands me my sandwich and grabs his own. I unwrap mine, the smell of marinara and melted cheese hitting me all at once, and I realize how hungry I am.

Logan clinks our beers together like it’s a toast we both need.

“To surviving,” he says.

“To learning to be okay again,” I add.

Then, he pulls out his phone, scrolling for a moment. “Serious question now. Do we go full cheesy first date and listen to a shitty love songs playlist? Or do I queue up something decent?”

I narrow my eyes. “Do youhavea shitty love songs playlist?”

His smirk widens, and then suddenly, “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” by Whitney Houston starts blasting from the speaker.

“Logan,” I wheeze, nearly choking on my beer through a laugh.

He grins, already eating his sandwich. “Alright fine, not shitty because this song is an absolute banger. Tell me I’m wrong.”