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th3mrskory · 3 days ago

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Chapter 8: Unfinished Business

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: none.

A/N: Alright, here we are—Chapter 8. The one I’ve been lowkey (okay, highkey) dreading. If you’ve made it this far, first of all, I love you. Second, please remember that I write with love, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

This chapter is a lot. It shifts things, breaks things, and maybe hurts a little more than it should. Just know that every word was intentional, and no, I don’t take joy in your suffering (okay, maybe a little, but only in a writerly way).

So, deep breaths. Read when you’re ready. And if you need to yell at me afterward, my inbox is open.

Word count: 8.5k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The cottage was filled with the quiet sounds of preparation—the faint click of a cassette case, the rustle of fabric as Evelyn folded clothes into her suitcase. Outside, the wind carried a bite that seeped into the wooden frame of the house, but inside, the warmth of the fire kept the chill at bay.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, silently watching her. His flannel shirt was unbuttoned over a plain henley, the leather jacket hanging from the back of a chair. His gaze was steady but soft, like he was taking in every detail to tuck it away for later.

“You really think all that’s gonna fit in one bag?” he asked, his voice low and carrying the faintest trace of amusement.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’d be amazed at what I can cram into a suitcase.”

Logan raised a brow, pushing off the frame to walk closer. “Not sure I’d call it a skill worth braggin’ about.”

She rolled her eyes, returning to folding her clothes. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Minimalist. Not all of us can live out of a duffle bag.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands slipping into his jeans’ pockets as he glanced at the mixtapes stacked neatly beside her bag. “You takin’ all those with you, or you just makin’ it harder to close that thing?”

“They’re essentials,” she said, mock-serious as she tucked a couple into the suitcase. “I’m not about to risk getting stuck with my mom’s radio choices for a whole week.”

Logan smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Can’t blame you for that.”

The playful rhythm of their banter quieted as Evelyn zipped up the suitcase, the moment settling into something softer. Logan reached over to grab something from the arm of the couch—a thick, worn sweater—and held it out to her.

“Here,” he said, his voice lower now. “This’ll keep you warmer than whatever you got packed.”

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. She took the sweater, her fingers brushing his as their eyes met. “Logan, I can’t take this. It’s yours.”

“Yeah, and I’m tellin’ you to take it,” he replied, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Don’t argue. Just don’t forget to bring it back.”

Her chest tightened at the unspoken care in his voice. “Alright,” she said softly, folding the sweater and placing it on top of her suitcase.

When everything was packed, they walked out to her truck together, the cold air biting at their faces. Logan stayed close, his hand brushing against her lower back as they crossed the gravel.

As she opened the truck door, Logan lingered, leaning a shoulder against the frame. “You sure you’re good drivin’ this long on your own?”

Evelyn laughed softly, turning to face him. “Logan, it’s a few hours.”

“Doesn’t mean I gotta like it,” he muttered, his tone quiet but firm. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the words he didn’t say filled the space between them.

She smiled, stepping closer. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll call when I get there, okay?”

Logan’s hand came up, brushing against her arm before moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along her skin. “You better,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was slow and steady, as though he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. Her hand came up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

When they finally broke apart, she exhaled softly, her forehead resting against his. “You’re making it really hard to leave, you know that?”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his smirk returning. “Good. Might make you think twice about goin’ next time.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping back with a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

Climbing into the truck, Evelyn started the engine, the rumble breaking the stillness of the moment. As she pulled away, Logan tapped the roof lightly, his hand lingering there for a second longer than necessary. He watched her until the taillights disappeared down the winding road, the cold air biting at his skin as he stood there, alone but somehow content.

The road stretched out before Evelyn, the winter sun casting long shadows across the frost-dusted trees. The faint hum of the cassette player filled the cab, a mixtape she’d thrown together for the drive keeping her company. But even with her favorite songs spinning through the speakers, her mind drifted back to Logan—the warmth in his gaze, the rough gentleness in his touch, and the way his smirk softened into something almost shy when she kissed him goodbye.

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. He had a way of sticking with her, even when he wasn’t around.

The familiar sight of her parents’ house came into view, a two-story colonial tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. The front lawn was adorned with Christmas lights and a plastic Santa that had seen better days, its red suit faded by years of winter storms. Pulling into the driveway, Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Home.

Stepping inside, Evelyn was immediately wrapped in the warm embrace of home. The living room smelled of pine and cinnamon, the Christmas tree shimmering with mismatched ornaments that had been collected over decades. Her dad sat cross-legged in front of the TV, muttering under his breath as he fiddled with the VCR. Meanwhile, her mom moved between the kitchen and the dining room, her apron streaked with flour and her hair pinned up in the way she always wore it when things got hectic.

“There she is!” her dad called out, looking up with a wide grin as Evelyn stepped into the room. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way back.”

“Or decided not to come at all,” her mom added, bustling into the living room with a tray of cookies. Her eyes softened as she set the tray down on the coffee table. “How was the drive, sweetheart?”

“Long,” Evelyn admitted, shrugging off her coat. “But it’s good to be home.”

Her dad stood, dusting his hands off and pulling her into a brief but tight hug. “Glad you made it safe. Car still holding up?”

“Barely,” she joked, earning a laugh from him.

Her mom was next, wrapping Evelyn in a flour-scented embrace before stepping back to study her. “You look good,” she said, her tone both approving and surprised. “The fresh air out there must be doing wonders.”

“It helps,” Evelyn replied with a small smile. “How’s everything been here?”

“Oh, you know,” her dad said, gesturing to the VCR. “Just trying to keep up with the latest technology. This thing refuses to cooperate.”

Her mom rolled her eyes. “He’s been saying that about every gadget we’ve had since the coffee maker broke in ‘68.”

The light-hearted conversation drifted into updates on family friends, neighborhood gossip, and holiday plans. Her mom filled her in on the latest drama from the church choir, while her dad complained about the new neighbors who always parked too close to his driveway.

The comforting aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked rolls filled the kitchen as Evelyn tied an apron around her waist. Her mom stood at the counter, chopping carrots with precise movements, while her dad rummaged through a cabinet, muttering under his breath about the missing gravy boat.

“You sure you’re up for peeling these?” her mom asked, nodding toward the bowl of potatoes on the table.

“I think I can handle it,” Evelyn replied with a teasing smile as she picked up the peeler. “It’s not rocket science, mom.”

Her dad turned from the cabinet, holding up the gravy boat triumphantly. “Found it! Knew it wasn’t lost.”

Her mom shook her head with a fond smile. “You always say that, dear.”

“Because I’m always right,” he shot back, winking at Evelyn as he set the boat on the counter. “How’s that cottage of yours holding up? Pipes not freezing, I hope.”

“Not yet,” Evelyn replied, focusing on the potato in her hand. “Logan’s been helping me keep it in shape. Fixed the roof, patched up some leaks...”

“So,” she began casually, though her tone betrayed her eagerness. “How’s life been out there? Are you settling in okay?”

Evelyn nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of her sweater. “Yeah, it’s been good. Quiet, but... good.”

“And the town?” her dad asked, leaning against the armrest. “People treating you alright?”

“They are,” Evelyn said with a faint smile. “It’s a nice place. Small, but the kind of small where everyone knows everyone.”

Her mom’s eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of teasing in her expression. “And Logan? How’s he treating you?”

“Mom,” Evelyn said, her cheeks warming.

“What?” her mom replied innocently, her hands spreading wide. “We’ve heard all about this Logan—well, from Martha mostly—but we haven’t met him yet. We’re allowed to be curious.”

Before Evelyn could reply, a familiar voice chimed in from the couch. “Good point, Mrs. Bennette,” Martha teased, leaning back with a knowing smirk. “I’m starting to think you made him up just to keep us guessing.”

“Martha!” Evelyn exclaimed, her face lighting up as she turned to see her best friend leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous grin.

“I mean, is he a man or a myth? Because I’m starting to think she made him up.” said Martha playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Evelyn set the peeler down. “He’s real. He’s just busy this time of year.”

“Busy chopping wood?!?” Martha teased, earning a laugh from her dad.

Her dad laughed. “Now that’s a proper job.”

“Actually, yes,” Evelyn replied, pulling off her apron. “Now, if you’re done making jokes...”

“Not a chance,” Martha said, leaning against the counter, a smile tugging at her lips. “Speaking of Logan, I thought he’d have come with you. But hey, do you have a picture of him? We’ve heard so much about him, but we need the proof before I can say he’s real.”

Evelyn hesitated for a moment before reaching into her bag. She pulled out the polaroid she had taken of Logan and handed it over.

Martha let out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. You weren’t exaggerating. He looks like he stepped out of a western.”

Her dad leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the photo. “Looks like he knows his way around an ax.”

“Oh, he does,” Evelyn said, her smile softening.

Her mom took the photo, studying it closely before handing it back. “Alright. He passes the first test. But we still want to meet him.”

“You will,” Evelyn promised, tucking the photo back into her bag.

“Good,” her mom replied. “Because we just want to make sure he’s the real deal. Especially after... you know.”

Martha nudged her. “When’s the wedding?”

“Oh, stop,” Evelyn said, laughing.

The laughter and teasing flowed effortlessly as dinner approached. The dining room was warm and inviting, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off garlands draped along the edges of the table. Plates of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and cranberry sauce were passed around as conversations overlapped in the way only family meals could.

“Alright, so what’s new with the neighbors?” Evelyn asked, spearing a bite of turkey.

Her dad rolled his eyes dramatically. “New folks moved in last month, parked their moving truck right across our driveway for two hours. Two. Hours.”

Her mom sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, leave them alone, Frank. They’re nice kids.”

“Kids who don’t know how to park,” her dad muttered, earning a chuckle from Evelyn.

Across the table, Martha chimed in. “Still better than the guy who let his dog dig up your flowerbeds last year.”

“Don’t remind me,” her mom said, groaning. “That man owes me an apology—and a hydrangea.”

The lighthearted banter carried on, giving Evelyn a moment to soak it all in. It wasn’t just the conversation or the food—it was the feeling of being surrounded by people who knew her so deeply, even the parts she tried to keep hidden.

The fire in the living room crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls. It was late, the kind of quiet that only settled after a long day. Evelyn and Martha were cocooned under a heavy knit blanket, their mugs of cocoa sending curls of steam into the cool air. Bing Crosby crooned softly from the record player, a fitting backdrop for the cozy scene.

Martha took a sip of her cocoa, her mischievous grin already in place. “Alright, enough stalling. You and Logan. Speak.”

Evelyn groaned, tilting her head back against the couch. “Why did I know this was coming?”

“Because I’m me, and you knew I wouldn’t let you off the hook.” Martha set her mug down on the coffee table, turning to face her with an expectant look. “So, what’s the deal? I need details. Is he as rugged and mysterious as the picture made him look?”

A smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips as she swirled the cocoa in her mug. “He’s... everything I didn’t know I needed. He’s steady, patient, and...”

“And?” Martha arched a brow, leaning closer. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

Evelyn exhaled, her voice softening. “And he makes me feel safe.”

The teasing faded from Martha’s expression, replaced by something warmer, more sincere. “That’s good, babe. That’s really good.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of those words settling between them. Martha reached for her mug again, taking a slow sip before breaking the stillness. “So... have things gotten serious yet? You know, serious?”

Evelyn nearly choked on her cocoa, setting the mug down hastily. “Martha!”

“What? It’s a fair question!” Martha held up her hands, feigning innocence. “I mean, you’ve been seeing this guy for months now, and from what I can tell, he’s the real deal. So, have you...?”

Evelyn shook her head, her cheeks warming. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Slow as in...?”

“Slow as in I want to be sure.” Evelyn picked at the edge of the blanket, her voice quiet but firm. “After everything with... you know who, I can’t just rush into something like this. I need to know it’s real.”

Martha nodded, her teasing replaced by understanding. “And he’s okay with that?”

“He is.” A small smile crept across Evelyn’s face. “He’s patient. He doesn’t push. He just... gets it.”

“Sounds like a keeper to me.” Martha leaned back, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “But don’t let your nerves mess this up. The guy sounds like he’s crazy about you.”

Evelyn let out a soft laugh, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “I think I’m falling for him.”

“You think?” Martha shot her a look. “Babe, you’re head over heels, and everyone but you can see it.”

“That’s what scares me,” Evelyn admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What if I get it wrong again?”

Martha reached over, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not getting it wrong. Not this time. This Logan guy? He sounds like he’s in it for the long haul. And from what you’ve told me, he’s exactly what you deserve.”

Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears, nodding slowly. “Thanks, Martha.”

“Always.” Martha leaned back with a content sigh. “Now, do me a favor and bring him around next time, okay? I need to see if he lives up to the hype in person.”

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.” Martha shot her a wink, pulling the blanket tighter around them.

As the fire burned low and the record spun to its final song, Evelyn felt the tentative stirrings of hope. Maybe this Christmas wasn’t just about coming home. Maybe it was about finding a new one, too.

The bedroom was dim, the moonlight spilling through the curtains casting faint silver streaks across the walls. Evelyn shifted restlessly under the covers, her thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles. She missed Logan—his steady presence, his warm touch, the way his voice had a way of grounding her when her mind wandered too far.

Her gaze drifted to the rotary phone on the nightstand. The pull to hear his voice was stronger than her hesitation, and before she could second-guess herself, she reached for the receiver and dialed the number.

The line rang a few times before a familiar gruff voice answered, tinged with sleep but still unmistakably him.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks warm even though he couldn’t see her. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

A soft huff of amusement came through the line. “No. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated for a moment, twisting the cord around her fingers. “I just... couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe talking to you might help.”

There was a pause on the other end, and she could almost picture him sitting up in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did. “Missin’ me already?” he teased lightly, though the warmth in his voice sent a soothing ache through her chest.

“Maybe,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “How about you?”

“Wouldn’t be answering the phone at this hour if I wasn’t,” Logan replied, the hint of a smirk audible in his tone.

She laughed softly, the tension in her chest loosening slightly. “My parents and Martha have been asking about you, you know. You’re kind of a big deal around here now.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice carried a lazy curiosity. “What’re they sayin’?”

“Well, my mom wants to know when you’re coming to meet them,” she said, her smile widening. “And Martha... she was pretty convinced I made you up until I showed them the Polaroid.”

“The Polaroid?” Logan’s voice shifted, a touch of playful exasperation creeping in.

“Yes, that one,” she replied, grinning.

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Didn’t know I was on display.”

“You weren’t,” she teased. “It’s just... they’re curious. My mom said you pass the first test, by the way. But they still want to meet you.”

“Figured as much,” he said, his voice softer now. “How’d you handle all the questions?”

“I survived,” she said, letting out a small laugh. “But I think they’re just worried. After everything that happened... they just want to make sure I’m okay. And that I’m not making a mistake.”

Logan was quiet for a moment before speaking, his tone steady but filled with quiet conviction. “You’re not makin’ a mistake, darlin’. Not with me.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, all the noise in her mind faded, leaving only the sound of his voice. “I know,” she said softly. “But hearing you say it helps.”

“Good,” he replied. “’Cause I mean it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the line connecting them across the miles. Finally, Logan spoke again, his voice tinged with amusement. “Anything else you wanna tell me? Or you just callin’ to butter me up?”

“Actually,” she said, smiling, “I just missed you. And the sound of your voice.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, his voice low and warm, “you keep talkin’ like that, you’ll have me drivin’ out there tonight.”

She laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. “I’d better let you get some sleep, then.”

“You sure?” he asked, his tone softening.

“I’m sure,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, Evelyn,” he murmured. “Call if you need me. Anytime.”

As the call ended, she set the receiver back on the cradle, her heart feeling lighter. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she closed her eyes, the memory of his voice lingering in the stillness.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the furnace and the occasional clatter of dishes as Evelyn moved through the kitchen. She’d been trying to keep herself busy, but her thoughts kept drifting—to Logan, to the cottage, and to how strange it felt to be back in her childhood home for so long.

Her mother’s soft cough echoed from the living room, pulling her from her thoughts. Peeking around the corner, Evelyn saw her mom bundled under a quilt, her head resting against the arm of the couch. Her dad was in his armchair, snoring lightly, the TV playing a muted rerun of a Christmas movie.

Evelyn smiled faintly before stepping back into the kitchen. She was just about to start chopping the rest of the carrots when the phone rang, startling her. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and picked up the receiver, the old rotary clicking slightly as she adjusted her grip.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Logan’s voice rumbled on the other end, warm and steady. “Caught you at a bad time?”

The tension in her shoulders eased immediately, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not at all. How are you?”

“Still in one piece,” he replied, his tone light but tinged with something softer. Figured I’d check in, see how Christmas went.”

Evelyn glanced toward the living room, where her dad sat fiddling with the knobs on the TV, and her mom rested on the couch with a blanket draped over her lap. “It was nice. Quiet. A little different, though, being back here for so long.”

“Different good or different bad?” Logan asked.

“Good,” she said quickly, then hesitated. “Mostly good. Just... takes some getting used to.”

Logan hummed in understanding. “Glad you made it through, anyway.”

“What about you?” she asked, her voice softening. “How was yours?”

“Spent it with Pete and his family,” he said, the faintest hesitation in his voice. “His wife insisted I stay for dinner. Kids roped me into playin’ some board game. Don’t ask me what it was—I’m pretty sure they made up half the rules as they went.”

She laughed softly, picturing Logan sitting awkwardly at a cluttered table, kids climbing over him while he tried to make sense of the chaos. “Sounds like you were the life of the party.”

“Hardly,” he muttered, but there was a faint chuckle beneath his words. “Pete’s wife sent me home with leftovers, though. Guess I didn’t screw up her kitchen too bad when I was helpin’ her cook.”

“You cooked?” Evelyn asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Mostly peelin’ potatoes,” Logan admitted. “But she didn’t throw me out, so I’ll call it a win.”

Evelyn shook her head, grinning. “Sounds like you had a better time than you’re letting on.”

“Maybe,” he said, and for a moment, there was a quiet warmth in his voice that made her chest tighten.

Evelyn’s smile softened, her heart giving a small, unsteady thud. “And the cottage? Holding up without me?”

“It’s lonely,” Logan teased, though there was a hint of truth in his words. “Roof’s still got that damn leak, but I’ll take care of it.”

“Maybe it’s waiting for me to come back,” she quipped, though her voice faltered slightly at the end.

“Could be,” Logan said, and for a moment, his tone shifted—deeper, more certain.

She hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord as she tried to put her feelings into words. “I miss it,” she admitted softly. “Miss you.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy but not uncomfortable. When Logan spoke again, his voice was quieter, rougher. “Same here.”

Evelyn exhaled slowly, glancing toward the doorway to make sure no one was listening. “How’s everything else? Are the guys at the site keeping you in line?”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. “As much as they can. They’ve been askin’ about you, though. Wonderin’ when you’re comin’ back.”

“Tell them I’ll be back in a couple of days,” she teased, her smile widening.

“They’ll like that,” Logan said, a faint smirk in his tone.

The conversation drifted for a while—Logan asking about her parents, Evelyn filling him in on her mom’s slow recovery and the small, familiar chaos of being back home. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of her absence grew heavier.

“If it gets too much,” Logan said suddenly, his voice low and steady, “you call me. Don’t care what time it is.”

Her breath caught at the quiet conviction in his words. “Logan...”

“Just sayin’,” he added, his tone softening. “You don’t gotta do all this on your own.”

The lump in her throat grew tighter, but she swallowed it down, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”

“Don’t gotta thank me,” Logan replied. “Just come back when you’re ready.”

“I will,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I promise.”

“Good,” he said simply. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“You too,” she whispered.

When the call ended, she stood there for a moment, the receiver still warm in her hand. Setting it down gently, she pressed her palm against her chest, trying to steady the ache blooming there.

Logan’s voice lingered in her mind long after the dial tone faded, his quiet reassurance wrapping around her like a blanket.

The morning was brisk, the kind of winter chill that clung to your skin and settled in your bones. Logan, Pete, and Rick were on the roof of Evelyn’s cottage, bundled in thick flannels and jackets. The sound of hammers and scraping metal filled the air as they worked in a steady rhythm, shingles and nails in hand.

Logan paused for a moment, scanning the roofline for any weak spots. His expression was focused, but there was a tension in his movements that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his coworkers.

“This place is coming together,” Pete said, wiping his brow and glancing at Logan. “She’s gonna love it when she gets back.”

Logan grunted in response, driving another nail into the shingle in front of him.

Rick climbed up the ladder, carrying another bundle of shingles. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Howlett. Something on your mind?”

“Nope,” Logan replied, though the sharpness in his tone suggested otherwise.

Pete smirked, leaning on his hammer. “Come on, man. We’ve known you long enough to know when something’s eating at you. Let me guess—it’s her.”

Logan shot him a look, but Pete just grinned. “Thought so,” he said. “What’s the problem? Trouble in paradise?”

“No,” Logan said sharply, then softened. “She’s just... not here. Staying with her parents for a while.”

Rick leaned against the truck, crossing his arms. “And you’re what? Pining?”

Pete laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut it,” Logan muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Rick raised an eyebrow, studying Logan for a moment before smirking. “You miss her.”

Logan didn’t respond, but the slight tension in his shoulders was answer enough.

Pete clapped him on the back. “So, go see her.”

“It’s not that simple,” Logan said, his voice low.

“Why not?” Rick asked, genuinely curious. “You’re over here fixing up her cottage like it’s your full-time job. Might as well check in on her while you’re at it.”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening. “She’s with her family. It’s not my place to just show up unannounced.”

Rick snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You’re the guy she calls when there’s a busted pipe or a leaky roof. If anyone’s got a place, it’s you.”

“Besides,” Pete added, grinning, “you’re not exactly the flowers-and-candy type. Showing up’s probably the most romantic thing you could do.”

Rick sat down on the edge of the roof, pulling off his gloves. “Seems to me like you’re overthinking it. If she’s been talking about you to her folks—and let’s be honest, she has—they’d probably be happy to meet you.”

Logan’s grip on the hammer tightened, but he kept working.

Pete chuckled, crossing his arms. “You don’t even know where she is, do you?”

Logan shot him a warning look, but Pete just laughed harder.

“All this time, you’re patching up her place, missing her like crazy, and you don’t even know how to find her.”.Pete said.

Logan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the roofline.

“Bet there’s something in the house with her parents’ address on it,” Rick said casually, glancing toward the open window below. “Mail, a note—anything.”

Logan finally set down his hammer, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re here to fix the roof, not go digging through her stuff.”

“Relax, no one’s saying snoop,” Pete said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if it were me, I’d want to know where to find her. Just in case.”

Logan exhaled sharply, standing and stretching his shoulders. “Roof’s almost done. Let’s finish it up.”

But as he climbed down the ladder to grab more supplies, his eyes drifted toward the kitchen window. The thought of finding her address lingered in his mind, a quiet pull he couldn’t quite shake.

The late morning sun cast long shadows across the cottage as Logan stepped inside for a moment to grab more supplies.He brushed his hands on his flannel, his boots clunking softly against the floor as he moved toward the kitchen.

The countertop was cluttered with the usual—mugs, an old notebook, a pair of gloves Evelyn had left behind. As Logan reached for the tool bucket by the sink, his eyes caught sight of an envelope tucked partially under the corner of a cookbook.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he pulled it free. The envelope had her family’s last name neatly written on it, along with an address.

He turned it over in his hands, his thumb brushing against the edge. His gaze lingered on the handwriting for a moment before he exhaled, setting it back down on the counter.

But something about it stuck with him.

“You find the shingles?” Pete called from outside, his voice muffled through the walls.

Logan grabbed the bucket and headed back out, the cold air hitting him like a wall.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, setting the tools down near the ladder.

Pete and Rick were leaning against the side of the truck, sharing a thermos of coffee. Pete raised an eyebrow when Logan approached. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Logan shot him a pointed look but didn’t respond.

Rick, ever the observer, glanced between them. “Let me guess. You found something?”

“No,” Logan said sharply, but Pete wasn’t buying it.

“What was it? A love letter?” Pete teased, smirking.

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath as he grabbed another bundle of shingles.

“Come on, man,” Pete said, chuckling. “If it’s something that’ll get you closer to her, maybe you oughta take the chance.”

Logan paused, one hand on the ladder. He didn’t look at either of them as he said, “It’s her parents’ address.”

Rick let out a low whistle. “Well, there’s your answer.”

Logan climbed back up to the roof without another word, his mind racing even as his hands worked mechanically. The idea of showing up unannounced wasn’t sitting right with him, but the thought of seeing her—making sure she was okay—was something he couldn’t shake.

The workday wrapped up with the sun dipping low, casting a golden glow over the yard. Logan stood by the truck, rolling up his sleeves as Pete and Rick packed up the last of the tools.

“So, you gonna do it?” Pete asked, leaning against the tailgate with a grin.

Logan glanced at him, his brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Go see her,” Rick said, smirking.

Logan exhaled, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right, showing up unannounced.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “It’s Christmas, Howlett. If now’s not the time for grand gestures, when is?”

Rick nodded in agreement. “Worst-case scenario, her dad hates you. Best case? You get to spend a few days with the woman you’re crazy about.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You two don’t quit, do you?”

“Not when we’re right,” Pete said, grinning.

Logan climbed into the truck, his thoughts swirling as he started the engine. As the truck rumbled to life, Pete leaned in through the open window. “You’ll thank us later.”

Logan didn’t reply, but as he pulled out of the driveway, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. The idea of seeing her—of finally meeting her family—wasn’t as impossible as it had seemed just hours ago.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the bare trees, casting long shadows across the snow-covered lawn of her parents’ house. Evelyn had just finished stacking firewood along the side of the house when the low hum of a car engine broke the quiet. Wiping her hands on her coat, she turned to see a sleek, black sedan pulling into the driveway.

Her stomach dropped as the car door opened, and a figure she never thought she’d see again stepped out. William.

“Are you kidding me?” she muttered under her breath, yanking off her gloves and storming toward him.

He flashed her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Evie.”

“Don’t call me that. What are you doing here?” she snapped, keeping her voice low but firm.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, his breath puffing in the cold air. “Heard your mom was under the weather. Thought I’d stop by and see how she’s doing.”

She glared at him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “You ‘heard’? From who?”

“It’s a small town,” he replied smoothly, leaning casually against his car. “People talk.”

“You have no right to be here,” she said, her voice sharper now. “My family doesn’t want to see you. I don’t want to see you.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone softening as he took a small step closer. “Because the last time I checked, we had years together, Evelyn. I know I messed up, but does that really mean you want to erase all of it?”

She flinched, his words landing like a slap. “You didn’t just mess up. You humiliated me in front of everyone I cared about, and then disappeared like a coward. There’s no fixing that.”

His expression wavered, and for a moment, she thought she saw something genuine in his eyes—regret, maybe, or guilt. But then he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more calculated tone.

“I’ve been trying to move on,” he said quietly. “But every time I think I’m getting there, I think of you. I miss us, Evelyn.”

Her throat tightened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, to push him further away, but the words got stuck.

He took the hesitation as an opening, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I’m sorry for what I did. If I could take it back, I would.I’m here now.”

She shook her head, her voice trembling. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to forget everything you put me through. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, stepping even closer. “I’m asking for a second chance.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them and leaned in. His lips brushed against hers softly, tentatively, and for a split second, she didn’t move.

Her mind raced, a chaotic storm of emotions swirling in her chest. The shock of the moment rooted her to the spot, but just as quickly as it started, she shoved him back, her voice trembling with anger.

The sound of footsteps crunching against the snow made her whirl around. Rounding the corner of the house, Logan came into view, his broad frame taut with tension as he took in the scene before him.

His gaze locked on hers for a brief moment before flicking to her ex-fiancé. His expression was unreadable—stone-faced, his jaw set tightly—but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made her stomach drop.

“Logan,” she breathed, panic surging through her chest.

Her ex-fiancé’s voice broke through the haze, dripping with false charm. “Well, well,” he said, his smirk cutting like a knife. “Is this the infamous boyfriend? Saw you at the fair. Figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“Logan,” Evelyn said softly, her voice shaking as she took a step toward him. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, torn between relief at his presence and terror at what he must think. “This isn’t—”

Logan’s gaze moved from her ex to her, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those eyes she had come to trust so deeply—were shadowed with something raw. Hurt. Disbelief.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, his voice calm but cold. He stayed where he was, his boots crunching on the snow-covered driveway. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Yes, you should have,” she said, her voice rising, almost desperate. “Logan, this isn’t what it looks like. He just showed up, and—”

“Seems like bad timing,” her ex interrupted with a smirk, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. He glanced at Logan, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s a little funny. You showing up right now.”

“Shut up!” she snapped, spinning on him. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Logan didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but the way his jaw tightened was like a hammer to her chest. He was standing so still, so composed, but she could feel the weight of his silence.

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said finally, his voice so quiet it felt like a blade slicing through the cold. “I shouldn’t have come unannounced.”

“Logan, no,” she pleaded, stepping closer to him. Tears burned her eyes, but she forced herself to keep looking at him. “Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”

But Logan just shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Take care of yourself, Evelyn,” he said, turning back toward his truck.

“Logan!” she cried, reaching for him, her voice breaking. “Please, I—”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. The door slammed shut behind him, and the truck roared to life. She stood frozen, helpless, as he drove off.

As the taillights disappeared down the road, the silence left behind was suffocating.

Her ex let out a low chuckle, his voice grating against her frayed nerves. “Well, that went about as expected. I guess he wasn’t—”

“Shut up!” she screamed, the words ripping from her throat as she turned on him. Her hands shoved him hard, her fury exploding like a dam breaking.

He stumbled back, his cocky smirk faltering for the first time. “Whoa, hey—”

“Get out!” she yelled, her voice raw and trembling. Tears streamed down her face as she shoved him again, harder this time. “Get out of here! You’ve ruined enough!”

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender. But his eyes hardened as he straightened. “Jesus you’re overreacting.”

Her chest heaved as she glared at him, her voice shaking with fury. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to show up here and ruin my life again!”

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her with something akin to surprise. Then, without another word, he climbed into his car and drove off, the headlights casting long, mocking shadows across the driveway as he disappeared into the night.

And then it hit her. The weight of it all crashed down on her shoulders, and she collapsed to her knees in the snow, her sobs tearing through the stillness.

“Logan,” she whispered brokenly, the word slipping from her lips like a prayer. But the night swallowed her voice, leaving her alone in the icy darkness.

The sound of the front door opening was muffled by her cries, but the warmth of her father’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the moment.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, kneeling beside her in the snow. His voice was steady, calm, but there was a deep concern in his tone that only a father could carry. “Come here.”

Before she could protest, he pulled her into a tight hug, his strong arms wrapping around her as if to shield her from the world. The warmth of his embrace broke something loose inside her, and she clung to him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his coat.

“I ruined everything,” she choked out, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “He’s gone. He—he thinks I...” Her words dissolved into sobs, her body shaking in his hold.

Her father held her tighter, his hand smoothing over her hair in a soothing rhythm. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured firmly. “This isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.”

“But, Dad,” she cried, her voice breaking, “he saw... he saw that, and I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted gently, leaning back just enough to look her in the eyes. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “Listen to me, okay? Whatever happened, it’s not the end of the world. You care about him, right?”

She nodded, her breath hitching.

“Then you’ll fix this,” he said simply, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Logan’s a good man, from everything you’ve told us. He’s not going to walk away from you over a misunderstanding. You’ll explain it to him, and he’ll see what we see.”

Her lip quivered, fresh tears threatening to spill over. “What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not too late,” he said firmly, his grip on her steadying her as she wavered. “Sometimes things get messy, but if this man cares for you even half as much as you care for him, he’ll listen. He’ll come back. You just need to give it time.”

The certainty in his words was a balm to her frayed nerves, and though her heart still ached, she felt a small flicker of hope light up in the darkness.

Her father pulled her into another hug, his chin resting on top of her head. “You’re strong, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been through worse than this, and you’ve always come out the other side. This time won’t be any different.”

She clung to him, her tears beginning to slow as the weight of his words settled in her chest. His presence, solid and unwavering, reminded her that she wasn’t alone in this.

Finally, he pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Now, come inside,” he said gently. “You’re freezing, and I’m not about to let you catch your death out here.”

She managed a shaky nod, her legs unsteady as he helped her to her feet. Together, they walked back toward the house, her father keeping a steadying arm around her as they stepped into the warmth of home.

The pain was still there, raw and unyielding, but her father’s words gave her something to hold onto—a promise that things could, and would, get better.

As the door closed behind them, the warmth of the house wrapped around Evelyn, but it did little to soothe the icy ache in her chest. Her father guided her to the couch, his arm still firmly around her shoulders. She sank into the cushions, her head bowed, and fresh tears threatened to spill again.

Her dad watched her for a moment, his expression torn. Then, with a deep sigh, he patted her hand. “Stay here,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Evelyn barely registered his words, her mind a storm of regret and panic. She buried her face in her hands, the memory of Logan’s face as he walked away replaying in her mind like a cruel loop.

In the kitchen, her father picked up the phone, his fingers pausing over the rotary dial before dialing a familiar number. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Hello?” Martha’s voice was bright, but it quickly shifted to concern when she heard who it was. “Mr. Bennette? Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “It’s about Evelyn. She’s... she’s not doing too well.”

“What happened?” Martha’s voice was sharp now, all traces of levity gone.

Her father explained in brief, measured tones—how her ex-fiancé had shown up, how things had spiraled, and how Logan had seen what he wasn’t supposed to see.

“She’s a mess, Martha,” he said finally, his voice heavy with worry. “I don’t think she’s in any shape to sort this out on her own, and she’s worried about leaving her mom.”

There was a pause on the line before Martha spoke again, her voice resolute. “I’m coming over.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Mr. Bennette,” Martha interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You know as well as I do that she’s not going to fix this while she’s here, stewing in her guilt. I’ll come and look after Mrs. Bennette. You just make sure she goes after Logan.”

He let out a slow, relieved breath. “Thank you, Martha. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Well, she owes me big for this,” Martha said, her tone softening just a bit. “I’ll be there in a couple of days. Make sure she’s packed and ready by then.”

When her dad returned to the living room, Evelyn hadn’t moved, still curled into herself on the couch. He crouched down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“Martha’s coming,” he said gently.

Evelyn blinked at him, confusion flickering across her tear-streaked face. “Why? What for?”

“She’s going to help with your mom,” he explained, his voice steady but kind. “So you can go take care of something more important.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“Logan,” he replied simply.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“You need to go to him, sweetheart,” he continued. “He doesn’t deserve to be left hanging, thinking the worst. If what you told me about him is true, he’ll understand. But you’ve got to tell him the truth. In person.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she shook her head. “What if it’s too late? What if... what if he doesn’t want to hear it?”

Her dad reached up, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But something tells me that man cares about you too much to walk away that easily. You just have to let him know you feel the same.”

The storm of emotions in her chest finally stilled as she stared at him. His words settled something deep within her, and after a moment, she nodded, determination flickering in her tear-filled eyes.

“I’ll go,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.

Her dad gave her a small, proud smile. “That’s my girl.”

The following morning, Evelyn sat at the foot of her mother’s bed, a tray of tea and toast balanced on her lap. Her mother’s cheeks had regained some color, but her sharp gaze hadn’t dulled despite the fever.

“You look tired,” her mom said softly, taking a sip of tea.

“I’m fine,” Evelyn replied, offering a small smile. “Just worried about you.”

Her mother set the cup down on the tray, studying her daughter intently. “That’s not all, is it?”

Evelyn hesitated, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “It’s nothing important.”

“It’s about him, isn’t it? Logan.”

The sound of his name sent a pang through her chest. She nodded slowly. “He... he saw something, something that wasn’t what it looked like. But he left before I could explain.”

Her mother reached out, her frail hand covering Evelyn’s. “Men like that don’t come around often. Don’t let fear stop you from making things right.”

Tears blurred Evelyn’s vision. “What if he doesn’t forgive me?”

Her mother squeezed her hand gently. “Then you hold your head high and know you did your best. But from the way you’ve spoken about him, I don’t think he’ll turn his back on you so easily.”

Two days later, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway stirred Evelyn from her restless thoughts. She peeked out the window, her breath fogging up the glass as she spotted Martha stepping out of her car, bundled in a thick coat and balancing a casserole dish in her gloved hands.

“Hope you’re ready for reinforcements!” Martha called out, her voice bright despite the chill in the air.

Evelyn opened the door, the cold wind brushing past her as she stepped outside. “Thanks for coming,” she said, managing a faint smile as she stepped aside to let Martha in.

Martha kicked off her boots and set the casserole dish on the kitchen counter, pulling off her gloves with an exaggerated flourish. “First order of business,” she announced, “this is my famous ‘everything but the kitchen sink’ casserole. Guaranteed to keep everyone alive while you’re gone.”

Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh softly, though the sound was tinged with exhaustion. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Martha waved her off. “Please, your parents love me. I’ll have your mom eating out of my hand by tomorrow morning.” Her expression softened as she turned to face Evelyn. “Your dad filled me in. You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Evelyn admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She wrapped her arms around herself, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well,” Martha said firmly, stepping closer and placing her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders, “first things first: you’re going to go find Logan. And while you do that, I’ll take care of everything here. Your mom, your dad, the casserole consumption. Deal?”

Evelyn hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the living room where her father was stoking the fire. “It feels selfish, leaving like this.”

“It’s not selfish,” Martha said, her voice resolute. “You’ve been here, taking care of everything and everyone. Now it’s time to take care of yourself.”

As if on cue, her father entered the kitchen, dusting his hands off as he closed the fireplace screen. His expression was warm, a quiet pride shining in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. “She’s right, sweetheart. We’ve got everything handled here. You’ve done more than enough.”

Evelyn felt her chest tighten, the weight of her guilt and hesitation threatening to crush her. But as she looked between her father and Martha—two of the people who knew her best—she felt a flicker of determination spark within her.

“Okay,” she said softly, nodding as the resolve began to take hold. “I’ll go.”

Her father smiled, pulling her into a tight hug. “That’s my girl.”

Martha clapped her hands together, her grin returning. “Alright! Let’s get you packed. No time to waste.”

As Evelyn headed toward her room to grab her things, her heart still felt heavy with the weight of uncertainty. But for the first time in days, she also felt a glimmer of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, she could make things right.

Chapter 7

______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library @pedroscurls @britttzy267 @aliensfeltmyjoy @steviebbboi

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