CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The wind whips across the rooftop, tugging strands of hair from my ponytail. I shiver, not from the cold—it never really gets to me—but from the tension between us. Logan stands a few feet away, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the city skyline. The muscles in his jaw clench and unclench as if he's fighting with words that won't come out.
"Logan," I start, my voice barely above the hum of the city below, "I'm sorry about Henry." My heart beats wildly, threatening to break free from my chest—a trapped bird yearning for the sky. I step closer, close enough to see the conflict in his deep brown eyes. "I never meant for him to come between us."
He doesn't move at first, just watches me with an intensity that seems to reach into my very soul. Then, slowly, Logan cl
