Logan Sargent - Fort Loverdale

Cabin (Victoria's POV)

The next morning arrived too quickly, sunlight creeping through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the cabin's wooden walls. Outside, the world was still waking up—the cool, crisp air carrying the scent of pine and damp earth from the forest, mingling with the warmth inside. The peaceful stillness of the cabin made it hard to accept that today was the day we had to leave, that soon this quiet bubble we'd built together would burst.

I lay there, cocooned in blankets, listening to the steady rhythm of Logan's breathing beside me. His presence was an anchor, grounding me in this fleeting moment of calm. I didn't want to open my eyes just yet, content to bask in the comfort of him being so close. The soft rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin brushing against mine—it felt too good to let go of.

But time was ticking. The hours were slipping away, drawing us closer to the inevitable. Soon, Estonia would be calling me back—training, competitions, the endless grind of snowboarding. And for Logan, Zandvoort loomed on the horizon, the roar of engines and the thrill of racing pulling him back into his world. But here, in the cocoon of blankets and fading morning light, none of that existed. It was just us.

Reluctantly, I turned over, stretching under the blankets, my body slowly waking up as I faced Logan. His eyes were already open, watching me with that soft, contemplative gaze he got when he thought no one was looking. It was like he was trying to memorize every detail, as if committing me to memory would somehow make it easier when we said goodbye. My heart gave a small, familiar flutter at the sight of him, his expression gentle and warm in the early light.

"Morning," he murmured, kissing my cheek, his voice still thick with sleep, the soft rumble of it sending a shiver down my spine.

"Morning," I whispered back, my voice softer than usual, as if speaking any louder would break the fragile tranquility of the moment.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering longer than necessary. There was something unspoken between us, a weight in the air that neither of us wanted to acknowledge just yet.

"You ready for the drive?" Logan asked after a beat, his fingers tracing soft circles on my back as he pulled me a little closer.

I let out a quiet sigh, burying my face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like sandalwood and something else that was uniquely him, something fresh and comforting all at once. "Not really," I mumbled against his skin. "But I guess we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Nope, no choice. But we can still make the most of it."

His optimism always managed to break through the heaviness, even in moments like this. But despite his words, I felt the weight of the day creeping in. The thought of parting ways, even temporarily, was heavier than I wanted to admit. I knew it was part of the deal—my life, my career, his—but that didn't make it any easier.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his lips warm and lingering for a moment before he pulled away, sitting up and stretching. "Come on," he said, his tone lighter now. "Let's get up. We've got a little time before we hit the road."

I nodded, though I didn't move right away. I wasn't ready to leave the warmth of his arms just yet, so I stayed curled up for a little longer, savoring the way he felt against me. But eventually, I peeled myself away, stretching as I sat up, the cool morning air biting at my skin as the blankets slid off me.

Logan swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair as he stood up. His grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and the black t-shirt he'd worn the night before clung to his broad shoulders in a way that made it hard not to stare. He caught me watching and grinned, his sleepy eyes crinkling at the corners as he headed for the small bathroom.