Chapter Text
Logan would be the first to admit that his relationship with Nat had not started in the usual fashion.
Well, calling it a relationship may be getting ahead of himself. But he’d like to think they were friends. Good friends, even. If he was being honest, he knew he wanted to be more. But for the life of him, he had no idea how to get there from here.
What had started as keeping an eye on his beloved home from afar had morphed into something else upon the builder’s arrival. His mission to get to the truth of his Pa’s last words had never changed, but it didn’t take long for his fascination with the builder - Nat - to become just as much a reason for his vigil.
She had been quite obviously nervous when she arrived, often fidgeting and jumpy, biting her nails more than anyone who works with their hands should. But well before the end of her first season, her nerves had settled, leaving behind a confident woman who appeared at ease in the desert, no matter what obstacles were placed before her.
Something people who were born in dangerous environments like the Eufaula learn at some point in their lives is that not everyone is cut out for it; some people are simply incapable of making the adjustment. Nat, on the other hand, made it look effortless, like she was meant to be there from the start. The fact that as an outsider, she stood firm not only against the natural dangers but the series of misfortunes that befell the city one after another left him in awe.
Seeing her interact with the people in town he missed so dearly, he could see how genuine she was with everyone she met. It was clear they had warmed to her nearly as fast as he had. Once she had gotten to know everyone, she began handing out personalized gifts frequently. At first it was nothing especially extravagant, but it was clear that each one had been considered carefully, and none of them were simple surplus trinkets. Even when she gave Rocky or Hugo base materials, he could make out the impressed looks on their faces at what she handed over freely.
He quickly became enamored with her, watching how she came to care for and love Sandrock as much as the locals. Seeing all the ways she poured her passion into projects that improved their home, both large and small, made him feel a connection to her even before they ever had a chance to interact.
Embarrassingly, he found himself reveling in every new detail he learned about her, whether from observing her himself or the bits and pieces he managed to pry from Grace. Much to the woman’s amusement, subtlety had never been one of his strengths, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind the knowing looks that would accompany any new information about the builder.
From his perch atop the Grand Mesa, he was captivated by seeing her progress from next to no martial prowess to being able to hold her own against nearly anything the desert could throw at her. He watched as she cycled through different weapons in experimentation before settling on the greatsword, to his surprise and delight. It was truly something else seeing the diminutive woman wield a sword nearly as big as she was, but she made it look like the simplest thing in the world. Watching her venture from her workshop every day with a sway in her hips and a massive sword on her back stirred something in him he was hard-pressed to ignore. The first time he saw her handle an assault rifle with sure hands and a strong stance, he fully acknowledged that he was in deep trouble.
Grace had relayed with clear distaste that Pen had taken to initially calling her ‘Skinny Arms’, but later gleefully gave Logan and Haru the blow-by-blow of Nat defeating Pen in a sparring match. He was sorely disappointed he didn’t witness it himself.
Logan could barely sleep the night before they planned to kidnap Matilda. His nerves always got the better of him before he had to act his Bandit King part, but if he could stop lying to himself for a minute, he knew it was more than that. He had a feeling Nat would be accompanying the corps on any rescue efforts, and the idea of crossing paths, let alone crossing blades, left him exceptionally on edge.
It ended up being everything he hoped for. He almost didn’t mind that they hadn’t managed to get anything useful from questioning Matilda.
If Nat had seemed fierce when he faced her the first time, she was downright feral the next, venting her frustrations throughout their fight in both her swings of the sword and breathless, snarling words. Not that he expected for it to happen a second time, but he made a mental note to not face her again after she’d been flung off a cliff.
Every time they fought side by side was exhilarating. If it hadn’t been such a relief to finally remove all traces of Duvos from Sandrock, he might have been sad it ended.
All along, he had intended to face justice for his actions; it had never occurred to him to run or try to evade what he felt he deserved. When all of Sandrock convened for his trial, he actually felt sick with all the talk of a complete pardon. While he knew some part of him should probably be touched, it just didn’t sit right with him. He understood that people generally thought he had redeemed himself, but the scales didn’t feel balanced. After all, he may have helped save the town, but he would’ve done the same even without his deeds as a bandit hanging over him. Was doing the only thing he ever would’ve chosen to do really enough to cancel out the hurt he had caused?
In the end, everyone said their piece, but Nat’s words would probably stick with him forever.
“I know we’re all grateful to Logan. I get that it’s ironic that I’m saying this about a ‘bandit’,” she scoffed, unable to hide her disdain for referring to him as such, “but he’s got a helluva sense of right and wrong…and he thinks a full pardon is wrong. If you’re that grateful to him, if you respect how much he cares about this town and everyone in it, all that he’s done for every one of us…you should be willing to consider his desires here. He wants to make amends and do what he believes is right. Let him. Thank him by putting aside your feelings of justice and trust him to follow his.”
Her words silenced the murmurs of the crowd, striking to the heart of what he’d been trying and failing to get them all to hear.
She understood him, perhaps better than anyone but his brother. After watching her for as long as he had, he could read her signs of unease as she spoke. He could hear the quaver in her voice, could see the way she shifted minutely in discomfort she couldn’t quite hide, occasionally looking down before meeting his eyes again.
He was humbled that this amazing woman was putting aside her own feelings to advocate for his.
And in that moment, he could finally admit to himself just how hard he had fallen for her.
No one would ever know whether her impassioned words were the tipping point, but he was convinced they were. He’d be eternally thankful she had managed to sway their hearts where he alone could not.
But to his dismay, when the dust had finally settled, he didn’t know how to be around her. Without a crisis or the excuse of community service, how was he supposed to do this? He’d never been the social sort. Prior to his time on the run, he wasn’t one to chase women; they usually came to him and if the mood struck him for company, that was enough. If the prospect of pursuing a friendship had him unsteady, the idea of full-blown courtship left him shaking in his boots.
He could barely find the words to thank her for her speech at his trial, how was he supposed to tell her the depth of his feelings? And Light forbid, how was he supposed to carry on if she rejected him? Either he’d have to bury how he felt and hope his love for her would fade enough to be tolerable or he’d lose her presence in his life entirely. He wasn’t sure which idea pained him more.
So while he wrestled with his feelings and worked up the nerve, he did what he’d been doing for so long now…he watched. No one could say that he didn’t do his job as a monster hunter, continuing to keep the town safe. But if the areas he patrolled happened to be in whichever direction Nat rode off in each morning, he’d swear that was just a coincidence.
It was enough for him to watch and wait for the right moment, doing his best to keep everyone safe and try to forget about the heart knot that had taken up residence in his pocket.
~ ~ ~
Since she had come to Sandrock, Nat had developed more than a few favorite places to complement many of her moods.
As far as ruins to dive in, her favorite had to be the ones under Eufaula Salvage. The first old world ruins she encountered captivated her imagination like no other place she had ever been. What had they been like when they were bustling? Just how many people would come and go each day? What had life been like in a world where this space was not the encapsulated oddity it was now? She rarely needed the ores found there anymore, but she would still go from time to time, searching for new bits and bobs to reassemble. These puzzle pieces may never make a proper picture, but she didn’t care; each trip was both a comfort and a small, yet nostalgic and rewarding adventure just a short way from home.
When she wanted to unwind - but also enjoy some good-natured competition - nowhere beat the Golden Goose. While Heidi preferred the Punch-O-Tron and Nat would forever cherish the memory of getting Fang to try Whack-a-Mole, her favorite game would always be Mahjong. She found it to be so much fun, she’d invited the whole town to play at least once, but the person she requested to play with the most was Logan. She secretly adored the way he would look at her pleadingly after every round asking if they were done, even when he was winning by a mile. Yet he’d be there any time she asked…until recently, at least. She knew he could be a bit too selfless for his own good, but she liked to think he enjoyed their time together as well, so she didn’t think he had finally tired of humoring her. She had her theory as to his sudden withdrawal, but it didn’t make it easier to bear.
After a smothering childhood, she loved that there were plenty of corners in the desert she could tuck herself into when she needed to be alone and think. From places with grueling climbs that yielded wondrous views to so many cliffside caves she would likely never be found, her favorite spot was much simpler: tucked into a literal corner up on the tram deck of Gecko Station. The view of the Shonash Canyon was pretty nice and she had yet to run into another soul up there unless she brought them herself. And while most people wouldn’t care for it, even the machinery running nearby was calming for her. Rhythmic and predictable, only softened occasionally by gusts of wind, it made fine background noise while she was left to her thoughts.
On this particular day, she had spent an hour with her back pressed into a railing, enjoying the view in the fading dusklight. Her thoughts had been a jumble lately, and she kept coming back to only one thing that had changed recently: Logan. While she still saw him around town plenty, he seemed distant. She had initially chalked it up to him working through his feelings now that his community service was over, but as time went on, he hadn’t bounced back. It would probably be going too far to say he was avoiding her, but he was certainly making himself scarce. It left her feeling something she fought against describing, but she could admit she didn’t like it one bit.
She couldn’t help but heave a wistful sigh. She knew she’d need to start her descent soon if she wanted to do so before dark truly settled in, but even time alone with her thoughts hadn’t left her feeling any more at peace the way it usually did. Taking a deep breath and holding it almost long enough to hurt, she tried to smooth her furrowed brows into something more neutral and began heading downward. As always, she would ‘fake it ‘til she made it’, pretending to be unbothered until the things that troubled her no longer held her in a stranglehold. No point ruminating on them; she was better off putting it all out of her mind and following her routine. It had gotten her this far.
Unfortunately, following her routine meant planning for tomorrow and with her mind occupied, she wasn’t fully paying attention to where she was walking, missing the start of one of the many flights of stairs. Where she was expecting a solid metal platform, her foot instead found empty air, leaving her tumbling down the stairs with a yelp. Panting and cursing, Nat took stock of her injuries. Banged up for sure, definitely going to end up with some bruises, but nothing major.
Grateful that it wasn’t anything that would slow her down, she climbed to her feet…only to discover that she had somehow not noticed the pain in her ankle until she put weight on it. Damnit. Just spectacular.
As she continued down the rest of the way, each step sent a shock of pain through her ankle and up her calf. Halfway through the descent she had stopped swearing. It wasn’t helping anyway. She clenched her jaw and focused on her breathing. The exertion through pain was making her sweat despite the cooling temperature, leaving her more uncomfortable with every step.
When she was finally standing on sand again, she pondered her options: get it over with and limp over to Merle, or collapse for a bit of rest, knowing that getting up again would be hell. In the end, her exhaustion made the choice for her, and she attempted a controlled collapse to the ground. It went about as well as could be expected, resulting in sand lightly coating her exposed skin in a miserable grit.
She was tempted to just lay down on the spot and simply regret her life choices tomorrow, but if the Civil Corps found her again she’d be lectured for weeks. With a sigh and a rueful shake of her head, she reached for her bag to search for the herbs tucked inside. While she trusted Fang’s medicine completely, her body reacted better to the medicinal herbs she was used to from Highwind, so she kept a small supply for situations like these. Unfortunately, the downside was that they tasted awful. Steeling herself against the horrible taste to come, she took a pinch and threw them into her mouth, chewing quickly and holding them in her mouth like she’d been taught as long as she could bear, just barely able to keep from gagging.
“Ya know you’re supposed to put those in tea or somethin’, right?” a familiar voice she’d missed so much recently called out to her.
It was a testament to her pain-addled mind that anyone had managed to sneak up on her, let alone a towering yakboy leading an overgrown goat. Yet there he was, now only a few steps away from her. She tried not to focus on the fact this was the closest they’d been in weeks, but quickly gave in to the flutter in her stomach his presence always seemed to bring.
“I don’t carry tea with me in the desert, do you, yakboy?” she asked with a huff of a laugh she was hoping wouldn’t highlight just how out of breath she was.
The shade of his hat made it hard to see, but the twitch in his eyebrow told her it had not escaped his notice. After a beat too long he simply shook his head. “Nah, can’t say I do. I much prefer salves over a mouthful of leaves anyway.”
“Fair enough,” she acquiesced. She was still trying to sound nonchalant, but it was clear Logan wasn’t buying it. As his eyes roamed over her searching for injuries, she tried to draw his attention away. “What are you doing out this way anyway?”
After a long beat of silence, he responded, “I’m doing my job. Ya know, monster huntin’? Protectin’ the town? The outpost’s a stone’s throw from here.” His worry was clear on his face and in his tone, his eyes sweeping over her yet again in increasing concern.
Great, Nat thought, now he probably thinks I hit my head, too. Which I did, but not that hard. Get it together!
“...so, uh, you comin’? It’s gettin’ late,” Logan said, breaking her from her typical self-deprecating inner monologue. No matter what she went through, some things never changed.
Her eyes darted back up to him. She could tell he was winding up into his usual protective, taking-charge mode, so she needed to act normal…but she also wasn’t ready to stand up yet. So in a desperate attempt to give herself some time, she patted the sand next to her in invitation. “It’s not that late. Sit with me for a minute.”
Logan looked torn but shrugged and settled down next to her. Before she could think of something to say that wouldn’t cause him to worry even more, he asked, “What d’ya do up there, anyhow?”
She looked at him with slight alarm. He didn’t ask her what she was doing just now but in general, meaning that he knew she was up there somewhat regularly. She wasn’t sure why she was so overcome by a simple question. Perhaps because it meant he had observed her enough to know her habits?
As nosy as people tended to be in the small town, she was used to a certain amount of scrutiny, but the respect she commanded for all she had done as a builder made most of the town give her the illusion of privacy in her day-to-day comings and goings. The idea that Logan had taken notice made her feel both anxiety and warmth.
After searching for the words, she decided the simplest way to answer was, “It’s a good thinking spot. I like going up there when something is on my mind.”
“What’s on your mind? Everythin’ seems fine these days, at least.” She caught the way he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he said it and tried not to squirm.
Because her mind immediately supplied the answer, You. The longer she let herself think about it, the more she realized she just plain missed him, but she wasn’t sure how to tell him that, or if she even should. She wasn’t even ready to admit to herself how deep that feeling ran, or what it truly meant.
Their relationship was strange. There was a level of trust between them that she couldn’t explain. Frankly, it was an unprecedented level of trust in her life, made all the more absurd by the fact that they hadn’t properly met until six months ago. She trusted him with her life and had unwavering faith that he’d risk his own skin to have her back…and she was fairly sure he knew she’d do the same. But going through the gauntlet like they had didn’t leave a lot of time for actually getting to know someone.
It left her feeling unbalanced. She considered him a good friend, but it confused her that she felt like she both knew him so well…but also barely knew him at all.
There were little bits and pieces of him that she’d discovered in the last month or two since things had settled down. Learning those little details that made him more human than hero were some of her most cherished memories between the two of them. She knew he liked his hot chocolate with a pinch of salt, his meat well beyond well-done, and had a fondness for fluffy socks. She knew that he was a protector to his very core; it was woven into everything he did and everything he dreamed of doing. She could tell that he didn’t know how to cope with the town’s forgiveness, which was likely why he’d been distant since finishing his community service.
But what she didn’t know was how to get him to slow down. Didn’t know why this distance had grown so great between them, or how to bridge it. Didn’t know if he was feeling the same magnetic pull she was feeling and was choosing to fight it instead of leaning in like she wanted him to, or if it was one-sided.
One thing she was sure of, however, was that this was not the time or place to talk about their feelings. So she deflected. “I dunno. Stuff.”
“‘Stuff’,” he scoffed, giving her a healthy serving of side-eye. “Right. I hope stuff was worth all those bumps an’ bruises.”
She sniffed in exaggerated offense. “Quiet time to think is very important. Besides, I’m not that banged up.”
“Uh-huh. So you’re sayin’ you won’t be black, blue, an’ unable to walk tomorrow?” he countered with a nod toward her outstretched leg, an almost comical level of skepticism dripping from his words.
“Please. I’ve had much worse,” she reassured with a smile, knowing he was well aware of at least some of the more severe injuries she’d suffered just in the time she came to town. While many of those were objectively worse, it wouldn’t do much to sway him from his worry, but it wasn’t going to stop her from trying.
He shook his head in clear exasperation, but let the subject drop and stared off into the distance with her for a few minutes. From where they were sitting it was basically just dunes as far as the eye could see, but she pretended to be engrossed if it would prolong the moment. After a while spent quietly side by side, he broke the silence and climbed to his feet. “Alright, I think it’s ‘bout time to be gettin’ back.”
Looking up, she saw him offering his hand to help her to her feet. She weighed her options between the pain of standing or waiting a bit longer before facing the music. The latter was especially tempting if it meant she could do so without an audience.
But she should have known it wouldn’t be as simple as just waiting for him to leave. Logan narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. “You can’t get up, can ya?”
“Of course I can,” came her immediate and mildly affronted answer. She was nearly certain it was true, too, she just wasn’t keen on testing it yet. “Just don’t want to.”
Breaking out an unimpressed look likely honed by Andy’s unending antics, he clearly conveyed that he didn’t believe her one bit without saying a single word.
“Humor me,” he insisted.
“Logan, I’m fine, I’ll head home in a bit,” she deflected. She could see his protective nature fully kicking in and really didn’t like the way this was going. Yes, she missed him lately, but as her friend, not whatever this was. She didn’t need a protector over a simple sprain; she wasn’t the helpless child her family always believed and she damn sure wasn’t going to let Logan treat her like one.
They stared each other down for another moment before he withdrew his hand and sighed, instead rubbing it over his face in the universal sign of someone really tired of dealing with something. “Ya really gonna make me do this?”
“...Do what?” she asked, suspicion and worry drenching her tone.
In response, he pointedly offered his hand one more time. When she shook her head at him in exasperation, he sighed. “This,” he answered cryptically, then let out a particular tone of whistle Nat didn’t recognize. But apparently Merle did, because she bleated once and set out at a trot towards home.
Nat’s jaw dropped. How dare he? “You’re really going to make me walk home to prove a point?”
He sighed and rolled his eyes in response, looking like he was torn between exasperation and offense. “Course not. I’m givin’ you a ride home myself.”
Without waiting for her surely indignant answer, he stooped down to lift her up. She instantly bristled and leaned away. She’d be lying if she said she’d never imagined him picking her up before, but it was under entirely different circumstances unrelated to injuries. And usually involved more consent, too. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The look on his face was priceless as he straightened up; she barely held in a giggle. It was a bizarre mix between chastisement and being on his last good nerve. “Fine, go ahead. Stand up an’ climb on Rambo. I’ll wait.” He even whistled for Rambo to come closer from where he’d wandered off, as if to really drive the point home.
No longer amused, Nat was thinking that if looks could kill, Logan probably would’ve dropped dead from the glare she was aiming his way. She may miss him eventually, but she was getting really sick of being the target of his overbearing brand of protectiveness.
When she didn’t make an immediate attempt, he held out his hand again. Defeated, she reluctantly took it this time, wincing when she put weight on her injured ankle.
“That looks like it hurts,” Logan murmured, uncharacteristically soft. She had fully expected an incoming I-told-you-so, but she couldn’t see or hear a hint of it in his face or words. Clearly having learned his lesson, before reaching for her, he asked, “Can I give you a hand?”
She could feel the fatigue of injury on top of an already long day of work settling over her, leaving a slight embarrassed flush on her cheeks and no remaining energy for fighting. Bracing herself for the flood of feelings she knew would hit her when she was in his arms, she nodded her assent. She only barely held in the involuntary squeak when he effortlessly scooped her into his arms and she pointedly looked away, unable to trust herself if she looked him in the face this close.
Before she knew it the moment ended as he helped her into Rambo’s saddle, then climbed up behind her. If being carried had her in her feelings, his warmth against her back and his arms loose around her to hold the reins felt nearly unbearable. It was getting harder and harder to avoid putting a label on these feelings, but she was resolved not to face it while exhausted and pressed against him.
By the time Rambo reached the bridge, the silence was driving Nat up the wall. It wasn’t actually uncomfortable - Logan was usually easy to share a companionable silence with - but she felt the need to fill it anyway. She could tell him what was truly on her mind: how much she had missed his presence lately. Or she could go with casual small talk, ask about his day, or how Andy was doing.
Pure petulance came out of her mouth instead. “I could’ve made it home on my own, you know.”
Logan snorted behind her. She could feel his exhale in her hair, feel his contained laughter in the way his chest moved against her back. “I know you could, Nat.” Despite his amusement from just a moment ago, the words were soft and sincere. The way he said her name so gently made her breath catch in her throat. “But you didn’t need to. I’ve gotcha. ‘Sides, we both know ridin’s bad for a sprained ankle…it is a sprain, right?”
“It’s definitely not broken.” A thought occurred to her, filling her with dread. “You’re not taking me to the clinic, are you?”
“Should I be taking you to the clinic?” he asked in a warning tone she was positive Andy was very familiar with. Nat groaned and threw her head back, forgetting for the moment that he was right behind her, resulting in bashing it into his chest. He let out a nearly inaudible oof but otherwise didn’t react. “I’m kiddin’. We can just wrap it when we get you home.”
Nat bit back a sigh in response. She supposed it was too much to hope that he’d simply drop her off. Perhaps the universe was getting back at her for missing him so badly, but she’d wanted his company, not to be babied and protected like she was made of glass. This kind of treatment was exactly what she had moved away from home to avoid, and she’d worked so hard in hopes the people of Sandrock would not see her as some helpless babe. Even knowing deep down that wasn’t the reason for Logan’s actions wasn’t soothing her rankled nerves.
While she was lost in her stewing thoughts, they had reached her workshop and Logan was bringing Rambo to a stop mere steps away from her door. He hopped easily off the goat’s back, then turned and offered Nat a hand down. She knew she needed the help but the knowledge didn’t make a dent in her discontent. Taking his hand, she slid off Rambo, letting Logan steady her as she landed on her good foot.
“How ya wanna do this?” he asked.
Offering a small smile that he actually asked this time, she thought for a moment then answered, “I can make it to my couch from here.”
“I betcha can, but I can hel-”
“Logan,” she cut him off, putting considerable effort into keeping her tone light. “Hobbling to my couch isn’t going to make this any worse. I got this.”
He sighed at her stubborn insistence, but held out a hand in an ‘after you’ gesture. But when she simply opened the door, he apparently couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. “Now hang on, you don’t lock your door? Is that a good idea?” She wasn’t exactly surprised he had an opinion on the topic but she had reached the point of being too exhausted to protest as much as she ordinarily would.
True to her word, she limped to her couch with minimal wincing and plopped herself down before answering. “I lock it while I’m sleeping. But Duvos is gone and I’m a builder; the most valuable things I have to steal are outside in my yard for the taking.” As she spoke, she managed to tug off her boot and sock. The swelling made it painful, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. After years of hiding pain to keep her overprotective parents from fretting over every tiny injury and illness, her pain tolerance exceeded what most would expect.
Letting out his biggest sigh yet, he held his rebuttal back, likely knowing it wouldn’t make a difference. Instead, he looked around and took charge of the situation. First, he pushed the coffee table closer to where Nat was sitting, then snagged a throw pillow. After meeting her eyes in a silent request, he gently grasped her leg, laying her foot on top of the pillow on the table.
“Where can I find your first aid kit?”
She had hoped, in vain evidently, that he’d simply leave her be at this point. The part of her that had dearly missed Logan’s company had finally been dwarfed by the part of her that hated being treated like she wasn’t fully capable of taking care of herself. She was ready to be alone to sleep off what truly was a minor injury and hope tomorrow would be better.
But she knew that this was a battle she would not win. Feeling defeated, she told him where to find it and tried to relax. She really didn’t want this to end with her biting his head off. It wasn’t his fault she was extra prickly when people tried to take care of her. Perhaps it was simply a miracle that he hadn’t seen this side of her sooner - all good things must end, and all that.
When he returned with the already open kit, he silently lifted her foot, replacing the pillow it had been resting on with his lap. As he expertly wrapped the compression bandage around her swollen ankle with just the right amount of pressure, she couldn’t help the blush rising to her cheeks. The situation, despite being entirely chaste, felt intimate in a way she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the easy way he had inserted himself into her personal space, or the strangely domestic feeling settling over them in the privacy of her home. Maybe it was the fact that she knew she’d like him in her personal space more often, just under different circumstances…
She shook her head vigorously. Perhaps she had hit her head too hard, if having a good friend give her basic medical attention was getting under her skin. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so ridiculous.
Suddenly, she felt his eyes on her. When she looked up she realized he had finished tending to her ankle and was looking at her with an increasingly worried look on his face.
She needed to get him out before she embarrassed herself more than she already had. In an attempt to distract with humor, she blurted out, “Thanks. If you’re going to insist on treating me like I’m some helpless damsel, there are crutches in my closet upstairs you can grab for me.”
Immediately she winced. Instead of humor, her words and tone had raced right past the line into being flat-out rude.
“Is that what ya think this is?” he asked in reply, his voice incredulous but soft, completely unoffended by her outburst, thank the Light. When she looked away from him, he leaned to the side to meet her eyes again. “‘Cause it’s not.”
Something in her face must have betrayed every terrible thought going through her mind. In that moment, she felt like she may as well have been naked, with her tired mind laying every vulnerability she carried between them for him to read like a book.
“Nat, I’ve never met anyone as tough as you. I ain’t helpin’ ‘cause I think you’re weak or any nonsense like that. Get that garbage outta your mind.” When she managed to meet his eyes again and give a small nod, he offered a small smile in return. “Good. Now, I’m sure ya can get up the stairs, but would ya let me give ya a hand, darlin’? ‘S no trouble.”
Her heart seized for a moment when he called her ‘darlin’. He had done so before, but this time felt different. Less like casual banter, more earnest and heartfelt. Somehow that one little affectionate term changed how she felt about everything he’d done for her tonight. There was still a little voice in the back of her mind that insisted that he must think less of her after he rode in and had to save her from herself over a simple sprained ankle, but it was much quieter and easier to ignore. That voice had been whispering toxic thoughts to her for years and she knew it wouldn’t be silenced so easily; it would be as stubborn as she was.
But it had been a long day, and she couldn’t dwell on it while Logan was waiting for her answer. Part of her was still determined to handle things on her own, if only to prove to both Logan and herself that she could…but another part was exhausted and wouldn’t mind being in his arms again, even if it was just for the short trip up the stairs to her bedroom.
For once, the second part of her was louder. “Yeah, I’d appreciate the help.”
Every worry she had about being too needy was banished by the smile he gave her when she accepted his offer. He easily hefted her into his arms again and carried her upstairs to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed gently. Normally she would have protested the extra care, but something felt different this time. Instead of feeling coddled or belittled, she felt simply cared for without judgement. Treasured. She filed the thought away for later consideration.
“So, uh, I doubt ya’d want my help changin’ or nothin’,” Logan said haltingly, rubbing the back of his neck in clear discomfort. Nat found herself blushing at the idea. “I could go get Mi-an or Elsie, if ya want…”
“Oh. Um…If you could just grab me some clothes I can handle the rest,” she offered. He nodded, still looking awkward but considerably less so. “My pajamas are in the bottom drawer over there. Anything will do.”
The awkward feeling in the room was interrupted by Logan’s soft chuckle as he grabbed the clothes at the very top of her drawer…which just happened to be a pair of gray shorts and matching tank top printed with little floppies. “Real cute,” he murmured, tone sounding surprisingly sincere with just a hint of teasing.
Nat was certain her face would have caught fire from the heat in her cheeks if such a thing were humanly possible. She had forgotten those would be on top when she let him help with this. She almost wished he would just outright tease her about it instead. That would’ve been easier to handle.
Just after he handed her the clothes, he paused and swore under his breath. “I forgot, you need to eat, don’tcha? You gon’ be alright?”
Damn this man for being so considerate and making her feel things she absolutely was not ready to face. Thankfully, she could honestly answer, “I’m too tired, I think I’ll just pass out as soon as you leave.”
With a nod, he replied, “If ya wake durin’ the night and your foot is cold, unwrap your ankle. I’ll swing by with somethin’ from the Blue Moon in the mornin’.”
This is too much! her brain screamed, finally having reached her absolute limit. She tried to open her mouth to tell him thanks but no thanks, but before she could manage to get the words out, he quickly said good night, then he was gone.
She couldn’t help but wonder if he did so as a way to circumvent her sure refusal. If so, that meant he had already figured out how to deal with her stubborn streak more than anyone ever had in her life. The thought made her chest feel strange.
After carefully changing into her soft pajamas and crawling into bed, she figured she’d be out like a light. But she wasn’t.
Her mind kept running in circles. She had gone from being upset Logan seemed to be avoiding her to being annoyed he wasn’t avoiding her to being almost comfortable with his help…and she didn’t like help from anyone.
People around Sandrock usually felt pretty put out when she didn’t let them help, so she had learned to put up minimal protest and then pretend to be grateful even when it ate her up inside. Somehow, Logan had figured out exactly the right words to say to allow her to accept care while holding onto her fragile pride, a balance no one in her life had ever managed to strike so precisely before. It cushioned all the jagged, insecure parts of her that were terrified to be seen as helpless and incompetent the moment she faltered and accepted help.
As she was finally drifting off, she realized she was smiling despite the slight throbbing in her ankle. While she wasn’t quite ready to label these things Logan made her feel, she could at least admit to herself that maybe letting someone care about her wasn’t as terrible as she had always believed.