Wish Upon A Sunset

If You Believe In Me...Why Can't I?

Emma

Present Day...

Strong arms enveloped me, and I became aware of my tears only when I was pressed against Logan's chest. The world around me gradually came into focus, and I took a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling his scent-a blend of coffee, pine, and something distinctly him. I relaxed into his arms, my fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

"They blamed me." The words caught in my chest, emerging as a hushed murmur. "They said it was my fault, that I was negligent. The prosecutors, the judge-they all saw me as a monster." My voice cracked, and I paused, taking another breath. "But I never meant for any of it to happen. I love Grace more than anything."

"I know you do." Logan's hand caressed the back of my head, pressing me to his chest. His thumb traced soothing circles at the nape of my neck.

Sniffling, I wiped my hand across my face, heat rising to my cheeks as I realized how messy I must look. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, pulling back slightly.

"Why are you apologizing?" His question was laced with incredulity as he tenderly ran his hand down my back, his touch leaving a trail of tingles in its wake. His face nuzzled into my hair at the top of my head, and I could almost swear he inhaled, scenting me. The intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down my spine.

"There is nothing wrong with crying," he continued, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "In fact, I think it shows strength to break down sometimes. It's healthy. I would be more worried if you didn't."

He pulled back, tilting my chin up with his finger so I met his gaze. "You haven't lost your humanity. You didn't let it break you. And that, right there, is what you should be proud of."

I fought back fresh tears, my heart aching at his words, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. I bit my lower lip, a nervous habit I'd never been able to shake.

Finally, I found the courage to ask, "But shouldn't it have broken me?" I could scarcely hear my voice. "Isn't it wrong that I'm trying to build my life back up, trying to find happiness, while my daughter struggles every day to stay alive?"

My voice broke on the last word, and I buried my face in his chest again, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

His arms tightened around me, and his chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. One hand moved to stroke my hair, the gentle motion soothing me.

"Emma," his voice was stern but kind, "it was an accident. You didn't mean for it to happen, and you were under extreme duress." There was a momentary pause, and I could sense a subtle shake of his head. "You can't blame yourself for being in survival mode. We're only human. We can only do what we can, and it could have happened to anyone in your situation. The only one I blame is your asshole ex."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him tight, my fingers digging into his back. "Do you really mean that?" I asked, my voice muffled against his shirt.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't." His tone was firm, leaving no room for doubt. "I've worked with the dirtiest scum of society, and you are nothing like them. In fact, and I'm not a psychologist, but it sounds to me like you have PTSD."

I pulled back a little in shock and stared up at him, my brows furrowing. That's the same thing Molly had said and I was still skeptical about it. Even after reading the book she had recommended. "You think so?" At his nod, I sputtered, "But isn't that for, like, vets who've seen war and people that have been through extreme trauma?"

As he tightened an arm around me, his smile carried a hint of sadness, while his thumb brushed away a stray tear from my cheek. "You have been through extreme trauma, Emma. You've been through more than most people, and I am so proud of you for everything you've accomplished." His eyes held mine, intense and sincere. "Despite your doubts, you haven't let this world break you, and you're doing everything you can to get your kids back. So many others would have given up."

It was the strangest feeling-the way his words almost had a magical effect on my soul. A sudden lightness surrounded me, my shoulders no longer burdened, and my will growing stronger.

Burrowing my face into his chest once again, I realized in this moment that he had worked his way into my heart with his strength and his confidence, his compassion and wisdom.

I bit my lip again, emotions swirling inside me. It concerned me a bit that he was rapidly becoming my rock, but he was also helping me to see another side to... everything. He made me feel like I still had hope.

I couldn't believe that after all that had happened, he still enjoyed my company, and he defended me every chance he got. He hadn't judged me like I had expected he would have, and the fact that he had been there throughout my trial, a silent spectator who had my back, now made me feel closer to him instead of the anger I had before.

I tilted my head up, and his closeness startled me as he bent his head down. The warmth of his body radiated through the small space between us. His gaze drifted down to my lips, lingering there for a moment before those warm brown eyes returned and locked onto mine. A current of electricity seemed to pass between us, and my breath caught in my throat.

I was still chewing on my lip when Logan reached up, pulling it free and soothing his thumb over the damp spot.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and my heart stuttered. I held my breath, intensely aware of every inch of him-the scent of his cologne, the sensual shape of his lips, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. He slowly descended his head, as if drawn by an invisible force.

His forehead brushed against mine, and I could feel the whisper of his breath on my lips. My skin tingled with anticipation. I wanted him to kiss me. Wanted it with an intensity that surprised me. My hands itched to reach up and pull him closer, to close that final distance between us.

But a small voice in the back of my mind reminded me of the complications this could bring. Our friendship, the case, my own emotional state-all hung in a delicate balance. There was nothing wrong with taking it slow, right? If it was meant to be, it would be.

His lips were only a breath away from mine, and I could almost taste the coffee on his breath. My body screamed at me to give in, but I summoned every ounce of willpower I had. With a shaky exhale, I pulled back at the last second.

"Maybe we should take it slow," I whispered, my voice husky with desire. "I don't think I'm ready for that step yet." I dropped my forehead onto his chin, unable to meet his eyes, afraid of the disappointment-or worse, regret-I might see there.

But the anger or frustration I had expected never materialized. Instead, his mouth curved into a smile against my skin. He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss onto my forehead, his lips warm and soft. "I can respect that," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Good things are worth waiting for."

His words sent a wave of champagne bubbles fizzing through my core. When he pulled back, his hands came to rest on my waist, thumbs sending sparks through my body as they rubbed against my sides. I finally looked up, meeting his gaze. The desire I saw there, mixed with understanding and respect, had my heartbeat quickening to a frantic tattoo.

We sat there for a moment, neither willing to shatter the intimate bubble we'd created. The tension between us was palpable, a living thing that crackled in the air. It was a promise, an anticipation of what might come, when the time was right.