Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

LOGAN

The cool air bit at my skin as I stood in the parking lot of an old warehouse, nestled on the outskirts of Outtatowner. The building loomed ahead of me, its weathered brick and high windows softened by the pale light of the late afternoon. The air smelled like rain lingering on rust, damp earth mixing with a faint metallic tang. The acreage behind it was dull and grayed from autumn’s chill.

It certainly wasn’t much to look at—yet. But standing there, with the cool autumn breeze biting at my face, I could almost see what it could become.

A home for something new. Something real.

I walked toward the warehouse with my hands in my pockets. Inside the building, the echoes of my boots on the concrete floor filled the vast emptiness. The warehouse had good bones: sturdy beams, wide-open space, and the potential to be more than just a building. I ran my hand over a weathered column, its surface cool and solid under my palm. It felt steady, grounded—a noticeable contrast to the mess in my head.

I paced the length of the room, imagining it filled with kids running drills, the sound of laughter, and the thud of a rugby ball against the walls. Young athletes learning to love the game as much as I had. The thought gave me a strange kind of hope—a flicker of something steady in a life that had always felt like it was in motion.

But was it enough?

The question echoed in my mind, louder than my footsteps. Competing had been my whole life—my anchor. It had defined me, shaped me, and given me a purpose. But it had become an anchor dragging me down rather than holding me steady. This wasn’t about giving up. It was about finding balance.

Building something better.

For the first time in years, the thought didn’t terrify me. It felt like breathing after holding my breath for too long.

I pulled out my phone, the screen cold against my fingertips as I typed.

Meet me. I need to show you something.

I stared at the message, my stomach twisting. She might not come. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. But she deserved to see this—deserved to know what she meant to me.

* * *

The crunch of gravel reached me before I saw her car pull up. My pulse rose as MJ stepped out, her arms crossed tightly against the chill. The late-afternoon light caught the caramel strands in her hair, turning them to fire. She looked unsure, her guarded expression matching the stiffness in her movements, but she’d come.

That was enough for now.

I waited as she approached, my hands shoved deep in my pockets to hide their shaking.

“Surprise,” I said, my voice steady despite the nerves churning inside me.

She arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking in that way that always knocked me off balance. “Dragging me out to the middle of nowhere? If this is a kidnapping”—she looked around the abandoned property—“that’s more of a King move ...”

A laugh escaped me, unexpected and soft. Leave it to her to find humor in the tension. “No ransom notes, I promise. Just trust me.”

Her smile softened, her walls slipping just a fraction. “All right,” she said, her voice quieter now. “What did you need to show me?”

“Not yet.” I hesitated, rubbing the back of my neck. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”

Her expression changed, curiosity giving way to caution. “Okay ...”

I took a deep breath, the weight of my next words pressing down like a vise. “That night at the ramen place, Wyatt offered me a coaching position at his university.”

Her eyes widened, the flicker of hope breaking through her guarded expression like sunlight through clouds. “Wow, that’s...that’s great, Logan. Are you considering it?”

“I turned him down.” The muscles in my jaw worked. “Twice.”

The flicker disappeared, replaced by confusion and something that looked a lot like hurt. Her lips parted, but no words came. The disappointment in her eyes hit me like a punch to the gut.

“You turned it down?” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “So that’s it, then? You’re going to rejoin the team?”

I stepped closer, the raw edge in her voice cutting deeper than I’d expected.

Her brows knit together, her lips trembling as she searched my face. “I can’t—I have had enough time to think, Logan. I’ll fight for us. If it means doing long distance while you’re playing with the Sevens, we can figure that out. I choose you, but I’m also choosing myself. That means I am not afraid of what might come next. I’m excited for it. I only hope it’s still with you.”

I surprised her with a laugh, soft and full of relief, pulling her hands to my chest. “Julep.”

Her gaze shot up to mine, confusion flickering across her features.

“I’m not leaving. I was never leaving. I’ve been everywhere, done everything, but there’s nothing I want more than to be right here with you.” I tightened my grip on her hands, my voice steady and sure. “You’re not fighting for us alone.”

She gazed up at me, her lips trembling as a shaky laugh floated out of her. “Then what the hell are we doing standing in front of this dilapidated building?”

“I figured it was better than decapitating a mafia boss.” A nervous chuckle escaped me.

Her eyes went wide. “ What ?”

“It’s nothing. Something my grandfather said, I––” I laughed and gestured toward the warehouse. “I’m doing this.”

My voice was quieter, but full of conviction. “I’m building a rugby training facility here. Something lasting. A place for the game, for the town ... for us.”

She blinked, her walls cracking as my words sank in. “Logan ...”

I reached for her hands, holding them tightly in mine. The feel of her skin—cool, soft, real—grounded me. My voice softened, every word carrying the weight of what I’d been too afraid to say until now.

“I love you, Julep. I love you in a way I didn’t ever think was possible. You make me want to be better, to do better, because for the first time, I don’t want to win alone. I want to build something real—with you.”

Her breath hitched, her lips trembling as tears filled her eyes. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing away a tear as it fell. “Just say yes. Say yes to us. Say yes to a future where we figure out the messy stuff together. Because I’m not giving up on you, and I’m not giving up on us.”

A tear streaked down her cheek, a shaky laugh and smile breaking through the tears. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice cracking but sure. “Yes, Logan.”

Relief flooded through me, my body lighter than it had been in years. I bent down and kissed her, my hands framing her face as our lips met.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like we were testing the boundaries of something fragile. But then she leaned into me, her fingers curling into my jacket, and the world tilted. Everything—her warmth, her taste, the feel of her against me—crashed into me all at once, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I stopped thinking.

When we finally broke apart, her forehead rested against mine, her breath mingling with mine in the cool air. “That was unexpected,” she murmured, her voice shaky but full of warmth.

I grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Good surprise?”

“The best,” she said softly, her smile widening. “What now?”

I stepped back, my hand still wrapped around hers as I led her toward my truck. “There’s one more thing.”

I opened the tailgate, revealing the red bicycle I’d spent the past month finding and restoring. The frame gleamed in the fading sunlight, the vivid color bold and unmissable.

Her hands flew to her mouth, a soft sob breaking free. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she reached out, her fingers brushing the handlebars. “Logan, I ...”

“You told me once that seeing your father teach Bianca to ride a bike hurt because it was something he never did for you. I can’t fix the past, MJ, but I can try to give you something better. We’ll make all new memories if we have to.”

She turned to me, her tear-filled eyes brimming with something I hadn’t seen before—hope. “You didn’t have to ...”

“Yes, I did,” I said softly. “Because you’re the strongest person I know, but even the strongest people deserve someone to steady them when they’re learning to ride.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her hand sliding into mine. “We’re really doing this? Choosing us.”

I grinned, my thumb brushing across her knuckles. “Every damn day.”

“I love you.” Her lips quirked into a soft smile, the kind that made my chest pinch. “For the record,” she murmured, stepping closer, “I already know how to ride a bike.”

I chuckled, the sound low and easy as I tugged her gently toward me. “Good,” I said, my voice dipping. “I can plan on keeping you steady in a thousand other ways.”

Her breath hitched, her gaze flicking to my mouth before locking back on my eyes. “Logan ...”

I didn’t let her finish. My lips found hers, soft at first, testing, tasting, until her arms slid around my neck and she pressed closer. The kiss deepened, the air between us heating as her fingers curled into the fabric of my jacket.

The world around us blurred—the fading light, the cool bite of the breeze, the looming husk of the old warehouse—and all that remained was her.

Us. This.

When we finally broke apart, her forehead rested against mine, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re really not going anywhere, are you?”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Stuck with me. I go wherever you are.”

Her answering smile was a kaleidoscope of warmth, like the last vibrant colors of a setting sun spilling across the sky, soft and breathtaking enough to make the world stand still. She tugged me by the front of my jacket, her voice soft but sure. “Then shut up and kiss me again.”

And I did—losing myself in her completely, knowing this was just the beginning of everything we were about to build—together.