CHAPTER 31: LET’S GO FISHING!

Night fell quietly, the fire crackling softly between them. It cast flickering shadows on Jean’s tired face as she rubbed her arms. Her dress, still torn and sleeveless, did little to fight the cold. She shifted, curling slightly toward the fire but not enough to let Logan notice her discomfort.

He noticed anyway.

The fire had begun to burn low, its warmth fading. Jean’s shoulders stiffened as a chill snuck under her skin. Logan watched her for a moment from where he lay, then sat up.

"Feeling cold?" he asked, voice low in the dark.

Jean didn’t answer right away. She was too proud. "The fire’s dying," she said instead.

Logan sighed, got up, and tossed a few sticks into the pit. Sparks jumped before the flames caught again. He turned to her. "You should’ve woken me up."

"I didn’t want to listen to your whining."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Still stubborn as hell."

She shrugged, eyes fixed on the flames. "Still annoying as ever."

But her voice lacked its usual bite. Silence stretched for a few moments before Logan shifted back beside her.

"Do you want to sit closer?" he offered. "Just for warmth. You don’t have to pretend to be a glacier."

Jean looked at him, almost amused. "Is that how you flirt, Kingsley? Comparing women to glaciers?"

He smiled. "Only you."

She rolled her eyes but scooted a little closer, just enough for her shoulder to brush his. "This doesn’t mean we’re friends."

"Of course not. I wouldn’t dare."

Their shared warmth settled between them, quiet and oddly peaceful. The fire crackled, and for the first time since they were stranded, the silence wasn’t hostile.

Jean’s voice broke the silence after a while, softer than before. "I still think you’re an idiot."

"Yeah?" Logan said, eyes half closed now. "Well, I think you’ve got frostbite for your heart."

She smirked.

And they fell asleep like that... close but not touching, warm despite the chill, and maybe, just maybe, starting to understand each other.

The next morning.

The sky was still dipped in pale hues of lavender and gold, the sun not fully risen when Logan stirred from his sleep. A soft, breathy sound pulled him from the edge of slumber... a delicate moan, barely audible, escaping from the woman beside him.

He blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light. And then he felt it, warmth, a slight pressure... Jean.

Curled up against him, her face nestled near his chest, one of her arms draped lightly across his waist. Her breathing was steady, calm. Her torn dress had shifted slightly in the night, and strands of her hair rested messily against his shoulder.

Logan froze, heart thudding... not from excitement but the sheer surprise. "She must’ve rolled over in her sleep," he thought, lips twitching into a smirk.

A moment passed.

Then another.

He didn’t move.

Not because he was enjoying this more than he should but because he knew Jean. The second she opened her eyes and found herself pressed this close to him, she would panic, yell, probably punch him, then declare it never happened.

So instead, he let the moment stretch.

He laid back quietly, one arm tucked behind his head, the other staying firmly at his side... he wouldn’t touch her, not unless she wanted him to.

The forest slowly began to stir around them. Birds chirped faintly, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze whispered through the early morning silence.

Logan turned his head slightly and studied her features... the tension usually carved into her face had melted in sleep. She looked... peaceful and beautiful.

He swallowed hard and looked away, back to the sky.

"Just a little longer," he muttered to himself, deciding he wouldn’t wake her until the sun was fully up.

Because for once, Jean Adams wasn’t fighting him. And that peace... felt too rare to let go.

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Jean stirred awake with the warmth of the morning sun brushing against her skin. The fire had long gone out, and the sand beneath her felt cool. She blinked, groggy and slightly disoriented. Her arm stretched out instinctively...

Empty.

She sat up in a rush, eyes darting around.

"Where’s he?" she muttered, scanning the shoreline.

Her gaze fell on the faint indentations in the sand... footsteps leading away from their makeshift camp. She got up quickly, brushing sand from her dress, her feet already moving to follow them.

The trail led her deeper into the trees and then out again... until the soft sound of flowing water reached her ears.

There, in the middle of a shallow stream, stood Logan.

The early sun glinted off his bare arms as he stood ankle-deep in the water, a long branch in hand, jabbing it carefully into the stream.

Jean tilted her head. "Is he... catching fish?"

She crept a little closer, keeping quiet to avoid disturbing whatever ridiculous method he’d cooked up. But curiosity got the better of her.

"You know," she called out, arms folded, "most people use nets or at least a hook."

Logan glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "Morning to you too, sunshine."

Jean stepped to the water’s edge, raising an eyebrow. "Is this some kind of primal instinct thing, or are you just bored?"

He jabbed the branch into the water again, missing whatever it was he’d seen. "It’s called improvising, Adams. Do you want breakfast or not?"

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "That depends. Is this your idea of fishing or playing a sword fight with the river?"

Logan chuckled, still focused on the stream. "Mock all you want, but I almost got one."

Jean crouched near the bank, watching him. "That so? Because from where I’m standing, the fishes are laughing at you."

He shot her a quick grin, then froze, concentrating. With a swift move, he lunged the stick into the water and pulled it back... this time with a small, wriggling fish speared on the tip.

Jean’s brows rose, impressed despite herself.

Logan turned to her, smug. "Still laughing?"

Jean crossed her arms again. "Okay, I’ll admit. That was... mildly competent."

"Coming from you, I’ll take that as a standing ovation."

Jean huffed a laugh. "Alright, Fish Slayer. Let’s hope you can do it twice... we’ll both need food today."

"Give me thirty minutes and another branch," Logan said, stepping back onto the bank, "and I’ll make you a believer of my greatness."

Jean watched him, her gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see him in a slightly different light.

Just a little.