CHAPTER 176: A SOME WHAT PEACEFUL MORNING?

The room was dim, cast in the amber glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, the city’s noise had quieted to a gentle hum, distant and dull... like the world knew something sacred had just unfolded within these four walls.

Even though Logan didn’t go all the way as he is used to with other women. He was still satisfied that he could feel much closer to Jean now.

Jean lay curled against Logan’s chest, her body still tingling, her heart still racing... but for the first time, not from fear.

His arm was wrapped around her back, protective yet loose, letting her move if she wanted. She didn’t. His other hand played with strands of her hair, occasionally pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. No words were exchanged. There was no need for any.

Until Jean spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

"That was... the first time I didn’t feel... afraid."

Logan’s hand paused in her hair.

She felt him exhale softly, almost like relief, before he kissed her again.

"You never have to be afraid of me."

She swallowed.

"I didn’t think I could... feel anything like that ever again. But you made me forget everything, even if just for a little while."

"You didn’t forget," he murmured. "You chose to trust me. That’s the difference."

Her throat tightened. That word... trust... used to be something she buried under locks and chains. But here she was. Lying beside him, trembling from release... and from the overwhelming realization that he had become her safe space.

"Why are you like this?" she whispered against his chest.

"Like what?"

"Kind. Gentle. Everything I thought I didn’t deserve."

He stilled again. Then gently turned her chin so their eyes met.

"Because you do deserve it, Jean. And no one... no one has the right to tell you otherwise. Especially not the people who failed you."

Her lip quivered. She hated crying. But tonight, she didn’t stop the tears from falling.

Logan didn’t either. He just pulled her tighter, letting her wet his skin with all the things she couldn’t say. When the shaking passed, and her breathing returned to normal, Jean whispered,

"Stay with me tonight. Please."

"I wasn’t planning to go anywhere."

She let her fingers trace circles on his chest, grounding herself in the rhythm of his heartbeat... strong, steady, hers for now.

And before sleep could take her, she murmured something he’d remember forever.

"Thank you... for showing me what it feels like to be wanted. Not used. Not owned. Just... wanted."

Logan didn’t reply. He only kissed her temple, holding her a little tighter.

Because at that moment, he realized... it wasn’t just about revenge, or protection, or even love.

It was about healing her... piece by shattered piece... even if it took the rest of his life.

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The sheets that were still tangled around their legs, warm from shared body heat. Jean stirred first, blinking slowly at the sliver of sunlight stretching across Logan’s bare chest.

His arm was still around her, heavy and reassuring. His face, usually sharp with authority and intensity, was calm in sleep, almost boyish. Vulnerable.

She watched him for a while, tracing the curve of his jaw with her gaze. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. So she did.

Lightly. Feather soft.

He stirred at the contact, but instead of waking fully, he murmured something incoherent and pulled her closer against his chest, lips brushing her forehead. Jean smiled... a real smile. The kind that didn’t hurt to wear.

After a few more minutes, she slowly slipped from bed, careful not to wake him. She pulled one of his shirts off the back of the chair and slipped it on... it swallowed her petite frame, the hem brushing her thighs. She padded barefoot into the kitchen.

It felt strange. Peaceful. Like she belonged here.

Jean stood there for a moment, in his shirt, in his home, letting that thought linger.

She started a pot of coffee and cracked a few eggs, humming quietly under her breath... a song she didn’t realize she still remembered from her childhood. The scent of warm butter and toasted bread soon filled the air.

Logan emerged shortly after, still half-asleep, wearing gray sweatpants and a plain T-shirt. His hair was slightly mussed. He rubbed his eyes, then stopped in the doorway when he saw her.

Jean, barefoot in his kitchen, making breakfast. Wearing his shirt.

He could’ve sworn his heart forgot how to beat for a second.

"You’re dangerous like that," he murmured, leaning against the frame.

Jean turned and gave him a soft smile.

"Good morning to you too."

"You cooked again?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Don’t sound so shocked," she said, lifting a brow. "I can handle a frying pan."

"I’ve only seen you handle corporate takeovers and assassinate people with your words."

She handed him a plate and tapped his fork into his palm.

"Consider this your reward for surviving me."

He chuckled, brushing a kiss to her temple before joining her at the table. They ate in companionable silence... her feet resting lightly on his leg under the table.

Eventually, Logan broke the quiet.

"I could get used to this."

Jean looked up, a bit startled.

"To what?"

"You. Here. With me. Like this."

Her gaze softened, and her fingers tightened around her mug.

"Me too," she whispered. I can.

There was no grand confession. No promises.

Just warmth. And possibility.

And for the first time in a long, long while... Jean allowed herself to believe she could have this. Maybe not forever. But for now, this was hers.

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Jean had just cleared their breakfast dishes and turned to rinse the mugs when she heard the lock click at the front door.

She frowned. Logan wasn’t expecting any deliveries. And Henry would never let himself in unannounced.

Before she could make sense of it, a very familiar voice rang out from the entryway:

"Logan? Darling, we brought your favorite pastries!"

Jean froze.

Logan, sitting at the table in his gray sweatpants, instantly went still. His fork clattered against the plate.

"Please tell me that’s not who I think it is," Jean whispered, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter.

"It’s my mother," Logan confirmed, slowly rising to his feet like a man preparing for war.

"And our dad," added a second voice... Hannah’s voice. "Surprise!"