Page 13
Chapter 13
Lucy
T he Pine Harbor Community Center hums with life. Volunteers hustle between stations, arranging tables, checking donation forms, and hanging banners that read: Adopt, Support, Inspire. The warm, sweet scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies mingles with the crisp autumn air drifting through the open doors. The energy buzzes with anticipation and determination, making the room feel alive.
I glance at the checklist in my hand, mentally crossing off items. Everything is running smoothly, yet my nerves buzz like static electricity. This event is more than a fundraiser—it’s a test of Pine Harbor’s support for the campaign and our mission. If we can rally the town tonight, the momentum could carry us through the next stages.
“Lucy, stop fidgeting,” Kate teases, appearing at my side with a tray of coffee cups balanced precariously in her hands. “Everything’s perfect, as usual. You’ve got this.”
“Easy for you to say,” I reply, taking a cup and sipping gratefully. “You’re not the one standing in front of half the town tonight.”
“True,” she says with a wink. “But you’re the queen of Pine Harbor, remember? They already love you.”
I roll my eyes but smile despite myself. Kate always knows how to lighten the mood.
Across the room, Logan leans against a table, casually tossing a ball for Lewis, who gleefully bounds after it. The laughter of nearby kids blends with the cheerful atmosphere, lightening the moment. Logan glances up, his eyes meeting mine briefly, and there’s a steadiness in his gaze that settles some of my nerves. It’s strange—how his presence has shifted from a source of tension to something grounding.
The sound of a microphone crackling brings me back to the moment. Mayor Collins stands on the small stage at the front of the room, commanding attention with his usual charismatic energy.
“Good evening, Pine Harbor,” he begins, his booming voice cutting through the chatter. “We’re here tonight because of two incredible initiatives: supporting our beloved Timberwolves and ensuring that every animal at Cozy Paws finds a loving home. And we have two people to thank for bringing this vision to life.”
The crowd erupts into applause as he gestures toward Logan and me. Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I force myself to smile and wave. Logan, ever composed, nods politely from his spot, though I catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
Mayor Collins continues, extolling the virtues of community and collaboration, before inviting me to the stage. My stomach flips as I step forward, the spotlight suddenly too bright and too focused. But as I grip the microphone, I remember why I’m here.
“Thank you, Mayor Collins, and thank you, Pine Harbor,” I begin, scanning the sea of faces. “This campaign is about more than fundraising and adoption; it’s about building a community that cares. Let me share one story that illustrates why this campaign matters so much.”
I pause, letting the room settle before continuing. “Max, one of our longest shelter residents, came to Cozy Paws as a stray, underweight and skittish around people. For months, he watched other animals leave with their new families while he stayed behind, overlooked because of his age and timid nature. But one day, Mrs. Harrington visited the shelter. She had recently lost her husband and was looking for companionship. The moment she saw Max, something clicked. She knelt by his kennel, whispering soft words, and Max—usually wary of strangers—inched closer until he rested his head on her hand. That was it. They’ve been inseparable ever since. Mrs. Harrington told me last week that Max has brought joy back into her home, and she can’t imagine life without him.”
I see nods and smiles ripple through the crowd, and when I glance toward Logan, his expression is unreadable but intent. It’s as if he’s absorbing every word, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he’s thinking about his own second chances.
After the address, the room bursts back into motion. Conversations hum, and the energy feels electric. Logan approaches, his hands shoved into his pockets, his broad shoulders cutting a confident silhouette against the bustling crowd. Lewis trots faithfully at his side, his tail wagging as if he’s part of the celebration. Logan’s usual stoicism seems lighter, more approachable, and as he stops in front of me, there’s a calmness in his eyes that draws me in. It’s not just his appearance that captivates me—the way he carries himself, steady and assured, holds an undeniable magnetism.
“Nice speech,” he says, his voice low but sincere.
“Thanks,” I reply, my heartbeat steadying now that the spotlight is off. “You’re not bad at working the crowd yourself.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Working the crowd?”
“You know, throwing the ball for Lewis, charming the kids. It’s practically a PR campaign of its own.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, one that makes my chest feel unreasonably tight. “Just doing my part,” he says, and there’s a warmth in his tone that wasn’t there before.
The evening shifts into a quieter rhythm as people begin to trickle out. Kate corners me near the refreshment table, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
“So,” she says, drawing out the word. “Logan was definitely looking at you like you hung the moon during your speech.”
“Stop,” I groan, but the blush creeping up my neck gives me away.
“I’m just saying,” she continues, undeterred. “The chemistry is there. Everyone sees it.”
“Everyone?”
“Okay, maybe just me and a few people standing nearby,” she admits with a grin. “But it’s undeniable.”
Before I can respond, Emma joins us, her expression more serious. “Lucy, you handled tonight beautifully. And Logan…” She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “He’s not as guarded as he used to be. I think a lot of that is because of you.”
Her words settle over me, heavy with meaning. It’s one thing to hear teasing from Kate, but Emma’s observation feels different. It feels real.
The celebration spills out into the Town Square, where strings of lights cast a soft glow over the cobblestone streets. The faint sound of a violinist busking in the corner adds a charming melody to the laughter and clinking of glasses. The autumn air is crisp, tinged with the earthy scent of fallen leaves. Logan and I find a quiet corner near the fountain, the din of laughter and conversation fading into the background.
“Do you ever stop saving the world?” Logan asks, his tone light but curious.
“Not really,” I admit with a laugh. “There’s always something to do.”
“You’re good at it, you know. Bringing people together,” he says, his voice softening.
The compliment catches me off guard, and I glance at him, searching for a hint of sarcasm. But his expression is open, earnest.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice quieter now. “That means a lot.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence feels charged, like the moment before a storm. Then Logan leans closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“Lucy,” he begins, his voice rough around the edges, “I?—”
The words hang in the air, unfinished, as his gaze dips briefly to my lips. My breath catches, the world narrowing to the space between us. He’s so close, I can see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. My heart races, each beat louder than the sounds of the celebration fading around us. There’s something unspoken in the way he looks at me—a quiet intensity that makes my heart flutter and my breath hitch.
Then, without warning, he leans in. When his lips meet mine, it’s soft and searching at first, as though he’s testing if this moment is real. My skin warms, and the tension that’s been building between us for weeks dissolves in an instant. But it’s not tentative for long. The kiss deepens, a spark igniting into warmth that spreads between us. His hand slides gently to the back of my neck, anchoring me as everything else fades away. I feel his steady presence, his warmth, and it’s as though the world has shifted beneath my feet.
When we finally pull apart, the charged silence lingers, the world tilting on a new axis. My skin tingles where his hand brushed my neck, and my heart races as though trying to catch up with the reality of what just happened. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the words tangled in the unspoken emotions between us. I’m breathless, my cheeks flushed. Logan’s eyes search mine, his expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty.
“I guess we make a pretty good team,” he says, his voice low and rough around the edges, a hint of a faint curve lifting the corner of his mouth.
I laugh softly, my heart full and unsteady all at once. “Maybe we do.”
Later, as I sit on my porch with a cup of tea, the events of the evening replay in my mind. The speech, the laughter, the kiss… all of it feels surreal, like a dream I don’t want to wake from. The memory of Logan’s hand brushing my cheek, the warmth of his lips, lingers with a vividness that sends a shiver down my spine. The way his steady presence grounded me, offering a quiet reassurance, even in that fleeting moment, leaves me feeling both exhilarated and unsteady.
But more than the kiss, it’s the way he looked at me—as if I mattered in ways I never expected—that keeps playing in my mind. The vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet intensity, it’s all etched into my thoughts like an imprint I can’t shake. My heart feels lighter, fuller, and yet there’s a twinge of nervous energy coursing through me, a feeling of standing at the edge of something vast and unknowable.
For the first time in a long while, I let myself imagine a future not just for the shelter or the campaign, but for us. It’s not without its uncertainties, but the thought feels impossibly bright, like a light breaking through the fog. It’s a fragile hope, but it’s there, blooming gently in the quiet night. And it’s beautiful.