–Jane–
He took care of everything.
Every need, anticipated before I voiced it. We were stationed at the Chile headquarters—Damon's facility—clinical, fortified, efficient. The nurses were competent and discreet. The doctor checked on me twice a day, methodical and thorough. And Logan was always there. Always.
At night, he insisted on staying beside me, carefully positioned on my left. He looked cramped, uncomfortable, and I tried—several times—to push him away. Each time, he refused with quiet stubbornness. In the end, I let him stay.
He pressed his face against my neck, breathing slow, controlled, as if afraid even the weight of air might hurt me. His hands never wandered. Too careful. Too restrained.
I must have drifted off, because his low snoring woke me briefly—soft vibrations against my collarbone. Annoying. Familiar. Somehow, it pulled me back into sleep.
I was resting deeply when he gently woke me.
