Page 120 of Viking
The warmth of his house envelops me, carrying the mouthwatering scent of garlic, basil, and something homemade. His kitchen is alive with the sounds of pasta simmering and sauce bubbling on the stove.
“You’ve been busy,” I tease, slipping out of my leather bomber jacket and hanging it on the back of one of his dining chairs. Beneath it, I’m wearing dark jeans with an oversized cream-colored knit sweater that dips off one shoulder. I opted for my favorite tan ankle boots, though they’re already feeling impractical for a comfy night in so I kick them off.
Logan grins, walking back toward the stove. “I told you, I’m redeeming myself. Homemade pasta, classic Italian meatballs, garlic bread, Caesar salad—the whole deal. No interruptions this time.”
There’s a playful tone in his voice, but something about the set of his shoulders and the way he avoids my eyes as he stirs the sauce tells me there’s more to tonight.
I cross the room to stand beside him, leaning my hip against the counter. “It smells amazing.”
He glances at me, his eyes softening. “I love you,” he murmurs like he couldn’t help himself.
The tightness in my chest eases just a little, and I smile. “Hmm, I guess I’ll keep you.” I crinkle my nose. “Can I help?”
“Nope.” He drops a kiss on my temple and goes back to stirring.
We settle into a comfortable rhythm as he finishes cooking. I pour us each a glass of red wine, and we chat about little things like my day at work and the funny things Dalton and Wells said in their group chat.
But as we sit down to eat, the air between us changes. Logan has been quieter than usual, his easygoing nature edged with something tenser.
I set my fork down, my appetite suddenly gone. “Logan, what’s going on?”
He looks up at me, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, and I feel whatever he’s holding back pressing down on both of us.
I’m not hiding anything from you anymore.
Finally, he sighs and sets his own fork down. “I’m deploying. In two days.”
The weight of his words lands on me like a lead blanket.
Two days.
I swallow hard, my voice trembling as I ask, “When did you find out?”
“Today,” Logan says softly, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “During the briefing. You had already left for the day when I got out.”
“Two days,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “That’s barely enough time to even—” My voice catches, and I stop, pressing my hands to my face. “Logan, I don’t understand. Why so soon?”
“I can’t go into specifics,” he says, his tone full of regret. “It’s classified, Lila. But this mission…it’s important.”
I lower my hands, searching his face. “How long will you be gone?”
He hesitates, and the pause makes my stomach twist. “It’s supposed to be just a few weeks.”
“Supposed to be?” My voice cracks, and I don’t even try to hide the fear creeping in. “Logan, what does that mean? Is it dangerous?”
You deserve the truth, and I’ll give it to you, no matter how ugly it is.
His gaze drops to the floor for a moment before meeting mine again. “I can’t give you details,” he says quietly. “But yes, probably. They wouldn’t send us if it wasn’t.”
The honesty in his voice sends a chill through me, and I cross my arms tightly over my chest, trying to hold myself together. “You just got home,” I say softly, my throat tightening. “We were finally starting to feel…normal. And now you’re leaving?”
“I know.” His voice is raw, and when he stands and takes a step toward me, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. “I hate the timing, Lila, but I don’t have a choice.”
“Why does it have to be you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “There are four other flights, right? Why can’t someone else go?”
His jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly. “It’s connected to Ryan.” His voice is rough. “This mission…it’s about what happened to him. To the base. I can’t sit this one out.”
No secrets.
