The ride back from the store was quiet.
Lily sat in the back seat humming, playing with the small plush toy we had picked up. Logan drove, his eyes fixed on the road. I sat beside him, hands in my lap, still feeling the sting from earlier—both the physical one on my cheek and the heavier one I couldn’t name.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
Every time I tried, something inside me clenched. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe fear. He had stepped in for me, defended me in front of someone from my past—and not mildly, but fiercely. Like I mattered. Like I wasn’t invisible.
But I hadn’t thanked him properly. I hadn’t even talked to him.
Maybe I should. I decided I would after dinner.
When we got home, Lily went off to watch cartoons, and I helped Logan plate dinner. The air between us was normal on the surface—small pleasantries, little smiles—but under it was a tension that hadn’t been there before. Like we were both waiting for the other to say something first.
Halfway through the meal
