Logan's POV
The moment Rowan and I get back to the house, Astrid is already on the porch waiting.
She's got Lila cradled in the crook of her arms, sobbing into the thick collar of her parka. Her tears have gone quiet—those heavy, post-storm kind—but her face is still streaked with them, and her body jerks a little every time she breathes.
Rowan's racing down the driveway before I can even shut the car door.
He reaches her, and for a second, I think he's going to kiss her. It does look like the perfect moment for a grand, heartfelt kiss. The kind you see in movies, where the music swells and the world fades away.
But they don't kiss.
Instead, they press their foreheads together—his hand cupping the back of her head, her fingers tangled in the lapel of his coat—and somehow that holds more intimacy than any kiss ever could.
"I'm sorry for making you worry," he murmurs.
