Chapter 343 Too Close
Ella
The atmosphere of the restaurant was alive with a cacophony of murmurs and a symphony of glassware clinking, but my focus was narrowed to the drink that I was nursing in the wake of Marina’s presence. I wasn’t alone for long, though, before I glanced over to see that Logan had silently appeared beside me.
“I have something to show you,” he insisted, his eyes shrouded in mystery and anticipation.
“What is it?” I asked.
Logan smirked and held his hand out for me. “It’s a surprise. You coming or not?”
I furrowed my brow, confused. Downing the last of my drink, I stood and smoothed down my dress. “And where, pray tell, is this mystery location?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Like I said, it’s a surprise,” he murmured. His cryptic reply and the sly, playful glint lighting up his eyes took me off guard, but it seemed as though he had no intention of elaborating.
“Um… Alright,” I said, shrugging. At this point, I was just happy to have somewhere to go. It felt like we were in a den of vipers, and I desperately needed some air.
“That’s my girl.” Logan’s words made me blush. I took his outstretched arm and followed him through a set of double doors leading off of the patio and into the restaurant. Waiters and cooks passed by us as we delved further into the restaurant, but it seemed as though our presence was largely accepted, which was surprising.
“It’s just over here,” Logan said, leading me down a long hallway. I glanced nervously over my shoulder as the sounds of the restaurant faded, but I said nothing. A few moments later, we stopped in front of a little wooden door, and Logan gently pushed it open.
“Wow… Logan, what is this?” I asked as the light flicked on.
We found ourselves in a secluded room, and what it held was completely unexpected. The space was strewn with toys, adorned with costumes, and lined with books-something that I would never have expected to see inside of a restaurant.
“I used to play here as a kid,” Logan revealed, his voice tinged with a nostalgia as he looked around the room. “My family owns this place. It was one of the first restaurants they acquired. I would escape here while my dad was immersed in his work.”
“Really?” I asked quietly, glancing around.
Logan nodded. “Really. This was like my little hangout. Looking back, I think it was just a way to get my brother and I out of my parents’ hair. But Harry rarely played in here. It was mostly just me.”
There was a long silence as I looked around at the quaint sanctuary of Logan’s childhood. The room smelled of aged wood and had notes of that distinct musty smell, like the scent of a grandparent’s attic. My fingers lightly grazed the worn edges of miniature cars and aged toys, and a soft chuckle escaping my lips as I picked one of the toy cars up and examined it in the light. It looked worn and well-used from years of playing.
“You loved playing with toy cars even as a kid, huh?”
Logan’s eyes softened, a nostalgic smile lighting up his face as he picked up a weathered wooden car, its paint chipped and worn. “Yeah, I guess I always had a thing for them,” he said, rolling the little car between his fingers.
A hushed silence fell over us as he cradled the miniature vehicle, a relic of simpler times.
“One day,” he began, his voice a quiet whisper, “my parents had this huge fight. It was… it was really bad. To escape the noise, the anger, I found solace here.” He glanced around the room, every toy, every book, a silent witness to his refuge.
“And then,” he continued, his fingers gently caressing the little wooden car, “I found this, under a loose floorboard. It must have been left here by someone, long before my time. I would like to believe that this room had been a refuge for someone else at one point, too.”
His voice, laden with the weight of unseen scars and unspoken words, echoed around the room, making the little sanctuary feel smaller, more intimate. “Someday, I’d like to pass it on to my child.”
I found myself drawn into his world, the pain, the innocence, and the longing, making him more human, more relatable. “Why do you keep all of these things here, locked away? Why not bring them home?”
His gaze drifted as though he was lost in a sea of memories. “For the longest time, I couldn’t bring myself to enter this room,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “My mom and I, we used to play here. It was our little world, away from the chaos.”
His confession was a revelation, a window into a part of Logan I hadn’t known existed. “Every toy, every book, it’s like… it’s a piece of her, and for the longest time, the pain of losing her made this room a reminder of what I had lost.”
A somber silence settled around us, the shadows of the past whispering secrets and regrets. “But lately,” he added, a faint hint of hope coloring his words, “I’ve felt more… open to embracing those memories, to remembering her.”
In that moment, the invisible presence of my wolf whispered soft words of solace, understanding, and something else. Longing, maybe. “He’s being so sweet, Ella. Can’t you see that?”
I couldn’t deny the truth in her words. Logan was unraveling before me, an unexpectedly wholesome mixture of nostalgia and childlike openness. “He is… surprisingly sweet.” But even then, my thoughts swirled, trying to figure out why he had decided to show me this; and why now, of all the times to show me.
“But why are you showing me this?” I asked, turning to face Logan once more.
He shrugged, averting his eyes back to the toy car in his hand. “I’m… not sure, honestly. I guess I thought a little show and tell wouldn’t hurt. Wanted to show you I had a normal childhood, too. I wasn’t always this… criminal.”
His words resonated within me, the acknowledgment of his layered existence painting him in a different light. “Logan, I’ve known for a while that you’re not just a criminal.”
“Have you?” Logan asked. I watched as he gently set the toy car down and took a step closer to me. His voice was husky, and his clear blue eyes were softer somehow. There was a faint redness to his cheeks, maybe from the alcohol at the party or… maybe something else.
“Yes,” I murmured, feeling the inescapable pull of my wolf as I picked up a waft of Logan’s scent. I found myself stepping closer too, unable to restrain myself. “I have.”
Logah said nothing. For a few moments, the air between us was electric, precarious. Then, suddenly, Logan was closing the distance between us.
I felt his lips mingle with mine, his tongue tasting like whiskey and something uniquely ‘Logan’. Without thinking, my fingers wound their way through his hair and pulled him closer. His hands found my waist through my silky dress, and I felt a primal urge to feel his body against mine.
But then, at the last moment, I came back to my senses. With a soft groan, I shoved him away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“This isn’t us, Logan. This isn’t what we agreed upon,” I said, the struggle evident in my voice.
“Ella,” he responded, his voice a seductive whisper, “I know you want me just as much as I want you. It’s been months of this. What’s the harm in exploring our desires, just for tonight?”
Before I could answer, Logan closed the distance between us again. His hands on my waist sent an electric shock through my body, and I almost caved again as I felt my wolf’s primal urge course through me.
But I found the strength to push him away again, to reaffirm the boundaries.
“Back off, Logan,” I growled.
Logan opened his mouth to respond. But before any words could come out, there was a knock on the door, and we both froze.
