Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I need sandberries for the chickens, more jerky, and…oh! Trudy wanted me to pick up sunscreen for her. Charlotte swung off her palomino mare, Shiraz, and hitched her in the stable next to City Hall. The mid-afternoon sun was still high in the sky, plenty of time to make a trip to Gecko Station to mine pyrite and hack down large deadwoods. Peach, there was so much damage done to homes and infrastructure after the Duvos invasion, she was up to her neck in commissions. The pipeline project that was announced would only add to them.

Scribbling her shopping list down in her notebook, she headed over to By the Stairs. Justice trotted by on Truth, his light gray gelding, and she waved, pencil hooked between her fingers.

She stepped into the shade under the shop’s awning and pushed her goggles up to her cropped, auburn hairline, beelining to the shelves behind the furniture displays.

“Howdy, Logan,” she absently greeted the yakboy behind the register.

Arvio was nowhere to be seen. He was probably inside; it was lunchtime. At least he’d left Logan alone today—since he started his community service post-release from jail, the shopkeeper had made the poor guy a tourist attraction, eager to capitalize on his infamy. Ernest credited him as inspiration in his latest romance saga, and now young women flocked from all over came to fawn over the real bandit. Today, though, there were no tourists around.

Her heart clenched and heat pricked the back of her neck at the thought, though she wasn’t sure why it bothered her. Logan could have any woman he wanted. A feeling deeper in her core told her he wasn’t that kind of guy, but then again, she didn’t know that side of him well enough to judge. Fighting side-by-side against Duvos was not a great indicator of his dating habits, and neither was sparring, ruin-diving, or using him as her bodyguard while she gathered resources out in the desert.  

And just because he was handsome didn’t mean he was a flirt. The only time he ever talked to one of the incessantly giggly tourist women at the Blue Moon was to refuse an offer to dance. Occasionally, he would look up from his whiskey glass to address Owen or Justice, or to gaze out across the room for a couple seconds like he was scanning the dunes for trouble.

She blinked. Why do I care about how other women act around him?

Shaking her head, she perused the shelves and recounted her commissions to get rid of the lingering heat. Cooper needed hardwood planks and iron wire to repair his fences. Pablo requested metal hinges to repair his salon’s door that she’d (accidentally) blown off with the air canon, and Heidi needed iron plates to fix her roof. The last of her iron ore had been thrown into her furnace this morning.

Lining up her selections by the cash register, Charlotte realized the yakboy hadn’t said a word the entire time she’d been shopping.

She peered at him. He sat on the chair behind the register, head lolled to one side with his hat set over his eyes. His arms were loosely clasped over his middle, long legs stretched out; one heel crossed over the other. The man was completely still, save for the deep, slow rise and fall of his chest. Macchiato was curled up in his lap, sound asleep.   

“Light, aren’t you two precious,” she cooed as she slid her camera out from its pouch on her toolbelt. This one was going in her album.

The camera shutter went off, and the orange tabby’s head popped up in surprise. Disturbed, he yawned and hopped off Logan’s lap.

The movement startled the man awake. He shot up from the chair, knocking it over.

“Draw, Duvos scum!” he snarled, pistol trained on Charlotte in a blink.

She shrieked and skittered back, feet meeting empty air in her panic. Tumbling down the steps, she hit wood and sand hard, air knocked from her lungs. Instinct clamped her arms over her head.

“Logan!” Justice boomed from across the square.

Hooves thudded towards her and skidded to a stop. The sheriff’s broad silhouette stepped between them, arms wide.

“You gone crazy, pullin’ your pistol on Charlotte?”

Peeking out over her elbow, she saw the color drain from Logan’s horrified expression. His chest shuddered with shallow, halted breaths.

Arvio flung the door of his house open. “What in Peach’s name—?” His eyes locked on the brandished iron, any remaining words fizzling into a noise between a squeak and a wheeze. His hands slowly raised in surrender, and he stepped back to give him space.

“I-I…didn’t,” the yakboy stammered, fumbling with the weapon in his haste to put the safety back on and holster it. His voice shook as much as his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His blue eyes pleaded with her to forgive him.

Justice helped her up and she dusted herself off. “It’s okay, Logan. I’m not mad,” she reassured him. And it was true—it wasn’t anger that sent her pulse thundering in her ears. It was terror. “See? All in one—ouch!” she winced as she took a step, pain bolting up her right hip.

“Want me to take you to Fang?” the sheriff offered.

Charlotte insisted it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t like she’d fallen off a cliff…again. But this time, Rambo wasn’t there to catch her.

“Look, pardner, I know we’re all on edge after Duvos, but this ain’t like you. You’re startlin’ easy, and you look like you haven’t slept or eaten anything for days. Why don’t we sit down over lunch and talk, huh? Yakmel milk’s on me.”

Logan reluctantly agreed, and she said that she was coming, too. Justice shook his head and told her the only place she’d be going to was home, to rest.

“No. I want to help. Anything I can do…I’ll do it.” She wasn’t asking. It was one thing to let his own hygiene slip; that was a given as Logan readjusted to civilized life…but her chest hurt at how pale he was. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He’d been gone every other day to hunt down bounties, and every spare minute he had, she’d asked him to do something with her. She kicked herself for it. Offended was the last thing she would’ve been if he declined, but he was too nice to say no.

She held Logan’s gaze for one breath, then two.

The yakboy sighed, picked his hat up and dusted it off. “’Fraid there ain’t much we can do, Justice. She’s decided.” He set it back on his head and descended the steps. He glanced back at the frightened shopkeeper. “Sorry, Arvio. Didn’t mean to scare away all your customers. I’ll make myself scarce.”

Arvio relaxed and nodded, setting about tidying up the shop.

“Hey, I’ll walk with you,” Charlotte sought out Logan’s support with a light grip around his bracer. He stiffened for a second, but slowed his stride and let her lean on him. Today, the aroma of sweaty goat was particularly pungent on him, and the first thing she vowed to make him do was take a hot bath. She would beg Burgess for forgiveness later.

“Here you go, three yakmel milks with cinnamon and beef stews for the table.” Owen set each dish down in front of them at their corner booth. “Wave me over if there’s anything else you need,” he said, and left to attend to other patrons.

Logan downed the glass in a few gulps.

“Better?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow at him.

“Mhm.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“So, what’s going on with you, bud?” Justice asked.

Logan leaned back against the bench and exhaled heavily. “Ah, well…you were right. I ain’t sleepin’. Not that I’m not tired, I’m bone-tired all the time. Since Haru left, everything’s just…” his lips pinched as he gazed up at the patterned ceiling, as though he might find the right word there, “a struggle. Money’s tight.”

“I hadn’t realized you were having so much trouble.” She recounted a few recent trips to Gecko Station and the Shipwreck where, upon exiting the ruins in the early hours of the morning, she’d seen him galloping hard back to town. “Ten thousand is not a small number,” she added, referring to the twenty thousand gol fine that had been split between him and Haru.

“A lot of my savings went to Haru, and whatever was left went to the fine. I couldn’t let him leave with that kinda debt hangin' over him while he’s at school.” He ran a hand down his face, passing across his jaw. ‘Scruffy’ was too cute a term to use for the three-day growth of stubble and the listlessness in his eyes. “Light knows I’ve been takin' every bounty I can. That don’t leave much in me to take care of Andy. Kid deserves better.”

Justice threw him a sympathetic look. “You’re trying your best. I’m sure he knows that.”

“We’ll get through it together. You’ve got me for the rest of the day; everything else can wait. I could use a break from all the commissions, anyway.”

A spark returned to Logan’s eyes, gaze meeting hers long enough for her heart to flutter. His focus switched to the steaming stew with a weak clear of his throat and light pink bloomed across his cheeks. “That’s uh…mighty appreciated. Both of ya.”

He mentioned a few things that were bothering him, mainly the state of his house and that Rambo needed a grooming. Andy needed someone around to make sure he did his homework.

He ate the stew much slower than he drank the milk, and Charlotte was glad to see the tension leave his shoulders as the hearty, savory meal worked its magic.

“Can we start with your house? Andy won’t be back from school for another couple hours, right?” she asked Logan once Justice had bid goodbye, and they were on their own outside the saloon. After some time to sit, the pain in her hip had decreased to a dull throb and she could walk on her own with a slight limp. Stairs, though, she’d need help with, thinking about the climb up to his house.

Logan nodded and they started toward the steps leading up to Rian and Dan-bi’s house. “Are you sure this ain’t too much for ya? You’re still limpin’.”

“Stairs are a bit of a bother. Do you mind?”

He offered her his arm, but halfway up the flight of stairs beside Mi-an’s house, she was struggling.

“I’ll carry you the rest of the way if you want.”

Both eyebrows met her hairline. “Aren’t you the gentleman? Oh, but we’re not far. It’s just another ten steps and we’re at your house. I can make it.”

He countered that if she pushed herself harder, she’d risk making the injury worse. Probably correct. The glimmer behind his eyes gave her the inkling he’d feel guiltier if she didn’t let him. Relenting, albeit with a dramatic eye roll Nia would be proud of, she clasped his hands around his neck, and he scooped her up like she weighed nothing. The moment of weightlessness released a surprised squeal.

“We must look ridiculous,” she giggled into his shoulder, face flushed.

“Think I care?”

“Absolutely not.”

She wouldn’t trade the bright smile that lit up Logan’s face for the world’s largest pyrite deposit. She was still giggling when he set her down at his front door. Rambo gave a soft bleat from his hitching post.

“We’ll get to you in a bit, buddy. Gotta clean the house,” Charlotte promised. She pulled his favorite dried rutabaga slices from her pocket, and he appreciatively munched on them.

“Oh, this might take more than a couple hours…” was the first thing that fell from her lips once she hobbled through the doorway.

Logan winced. “Is it really that bad?”

Lips pinched to one side, she gravely nodded. The first floor sitting area was covered in a thick layer of dust and sand, with more sand piled around the furniture. A trail of boot prints led up the stairs. She could only imagine the mess upstairs. While they’d thoroughly cleaned the house when the gang moved back in, it’d been a few weeks since then.

“Did someone…throw paint at the walls?” She peered at the rainbow splotches scattered across the walls of the second floor. Thankfully, they appeared to have missed Logan’s family pictures.

“Uh…Andy was experimentin’ the other day with what he calls ‘paint shot’ while I was out chasin’ bounties…I hadn’t cleaned it up yet.”

“…Right. Well, I can get to that in a bit. I’ll start a hot bath for you and get to cleaning the first floor. I can start a load of laundry at the same time.”

Logan’s nose wrinkled in the most adorable way, and she had to fight another round of giggles. “What’s a bath got to do with cleanin’ the house? I thought I was helpin’ you. Wouldn’t be fair doin’ it all yourself, ‘specially not with that leg.”

With one hand planted on her hip, she gave him a look like he should know her better than that. In a firm, but gentle voice, she said, “Logan, you agreed to let me take care of you. I can manage going up and down one flight of stairs. All I want you to do is rest, give yourself a good scrub, and shave. Don’t worry about anything else. I’ll cook dinner later and spend time with Andy so you can sleep.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, his tell that he was holding back more protests. But the quiet yearning and exhaustion in his eyes won over after a long moment. With a weighted sigh, he reminded her where the cleaning supplies were and sat down in an armchair to remove his greaves and bracers.

“Andy’ll try to weasel out of doin’ his homework but make him sit down and work through it. We got a rule—he gets to do fun stuff only after he does his homework, not before. And if you’re makin’ dinner, hide the veggies some way. He’ll make a fuss otherwise.”

She threw him a satisfied smile and set to work on the bath and laundry. Noting the white crease lines in his leather armor, she added conditioning that to the list. If she had time, she’d sharpen his weapons for him, too.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, she was a hobbling whirlwind of feather dusting, mopping, and scrubbing down every nook and cranny throughout the house with the focus of a rockyenaroll tracking prey. The dust bunnies and charred pots and pans piled up in the sink didn’t stand a chance. The disorganized chaos and clutter that was having a twelve-year-old kid in the house and a yakboy who used bomb ingredients as décor was more of a challenge.  

It became clear to her that neither of them understood the concept of a laundry hamper. She had to hunt under beds and behind wardrobes to collect every dirty sock, shirt, and pair of underwear. Beds were stripped and sheets were thrown in the washer on the hottest setting. She promised to pitch in on the egregious water and electric bills Burgess would send Logan at the end of the season.

“Hey, what’s that smell?” came Andy’s voice from the first floor, accompanied by the shutting of the front door.

“Yellow lavender and lemon!” Charlotte called cheerfully from the kitchen. She couldn’t believe Logan kept scented cleaning sprays around. When she’d found the full bottles under the sink, she did an internal happy dance.

Light footsteps bounded up the stairs and stopped at the kitchen doorway. “Woah! It’s so clean!” Andy gazed around the room in awe. “How’d you do it? Some kinda magic spell?”

“No, just some cleaning supplies and sprays. Are you hungry? I was just going to start making a couple of meat pies for dinner.”

Andy’s eyes narrowed. “What kinda meat?”

She pointed to the paper-wrapped packages of chicken breasts sitting on the other side of the sink. He visibly relaxed, gave an overdramatic “Phew!” and went into his room. Not a minute later, he asked, “Where’s all my clothes? They were right here in my clean pile!”

Charlotte informed him they were in the dryer as she started dicing potatoes and carrots for the pie. She added that she’d washed all of his and Logan’s clothes, plus the bedsheets and blankets. Neither of them had many items of clothing, but it was quite the scavenger hunt to find them all. Logan’s clean clothes were sitting in a basket on his bed, his bed was made, and Andy’s clothes had about ten minutes left in the dryer last time she checked.

Speaking of Logan, was he still in the bath? It must’ve been at least an hour since she started cleaning. Thank goodness she installed a heated bathtub for them, or she’d be dragging out a hypothermic Logan by now. She briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep in there. Or drowned. Was it possible to drown in a bathtub?

“Well, uh, seein’ as dinner ain’t gonna be ready for a little bit, and I promised Jasmine slingshot lessons, I’ll be back in a while, okay?” Andy’s voice retreated towards the stairs.

She whirled, ready to give chase and plunk him down at his bedroom desk. “Not one more step, mister! Logan said homework first!”

“That’s right, Andy. You know the rules,” the man in question said, one hand on the knob of his bedroom door.

Peach, take me to church.

She hadn’t heard Logan come up the stairs at all with his Light-damned silent hunter’s steps. With nothing but a white towel tucked around his waist, his muscled upper body was on full display. The crimson, swirling lines of his shoulder tattoo were a bright contrast against his scarred, fair skin. His loose hair, dampened to a dark silver, was combed back and beads of water dripped from the ends. It took a monumental effort not to follow one rivulet’s journey down his back and keep her eyes on his freshly shaven face.

 One time when they were taking a break by the oasis, he mentioned he cleaned up nice. Did he understand that was the understatement of the century?

“Charlotte, why’s your face all red? Did them veggies give you all-er-gies? You should eat less of them,” Andy sagely advised.

A new wave of heat washed up her cheeks. “No, no, it’s…it’s not that. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. If you need help with your homework, come get me. Logan’s not going to leave his room because he’ll be sleeping. Right?” Her words came out breathless and she resisted the urge to cringe at herself.

The yakboy nodded, but the quick dip of his head looked more like he was trying not to doze off standing up. Hopefully he was too tired to notice the complete short-circuiting of her brain at seeing him half-naked. It wasn’t as though she’d never seen a shirtless guy, or a naked one. She wasn’t a virgin, either. The man she was in a serious relationship with at Builder’s college, who talked about marriage and their future together, broke up with her shortly after she announced accepting the Builder job in Sandrock. But that guy didn’t hold a candle to Logan’s physique.

“Aww, but Jasmine said she’s learnin’ sewin’ with Grandma Vivi later. And you’re always tellin’ me I can’t do this, or I can’t do that, and—"

“No lip!” he snapped, voice rising a fraction. Andy flinched, and Logan squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a measured breath before he apologized and said, “I’m real tired tonight, Andy, and I want some peace and quiet. Please, don’t give her any trouble.” He shut his bedroom door behind him.

The young boy deflated, biting down on his lower lip. Charlotte’s heart dropped and she wanted to hug him. “He’s been like this a lot,” he mumbled as he shuffled over to his room. “Gets mad at me real easy.”

“Hey, come here.” She crouched down and beckoned him over. Andy approached her and she placed her hands on his shoulders. She didn’t have much experience with kids, but she tried her best to explain Logan’s state of mind to him. “Logan, he’s…he’s not mad at you, okay? I don’t think he could ever be mad at you. At the Starship Ruins, he found out some really sad, really difficult things about his Pa. He just needs time to process it. It’s hard for him to talk about because it’s painful.”

Andy’s blond eyebrows drew together, his mouth set in a line. “I s’pose everyone’s mad at the bad guys. But he’s real mad because they hurt his Pa?”

“Yes, exactly. It’s not easy to deal with those feelings.”

“Is there anythin’ we can do to help?”

“Well, I’m here today because Logan asked me to help clean while he rests. Having a clean house, and clean clothes, and a nice dinner makes you feel better. He wanted me to give Rambo a good brushing, too. And you doing well in school makes everyone happy, which means doing your homework.”

Andy accepted his fate with a pout and crossed arms. “Fine.”

After a moment’s thought, he offered to groom Rambo after he finished. He said taking care of the goats was one of his favorite things to do at the hideout. Apart from testing out the rides and trying to make cool (dangerous) stuff from Haru’s journal. Logan even stole a stool for him from somebody who had way more than they could ever need or sell so he could reach Rambo’s back and horns.

“You’re a good, smart kid, Andy. Logan’s lucky to have you, and he cares about you a lot, even if he doesn’t say it much.”

 The young boy’s face lit up with a lopsided grin. He dashed off, dug around in his backpack for his textbook and notebook, and then clambered onto a stool to do his homework at an unoccupied part of the kitchen counter.

“Just so you know, I’ll be watchin' you and those veggies, so you don’t have any more reactions.”

She shook her head and a laugh bubbled up. How did Sandrock ever get along without him?

By the time she prepared the pies, put them in the oven, and tidied up the kitchen, Andy was almost done. He’d needed her help for a couple of problems, but otherwise he got through them quickly. He mentioned that Jane taught fractions with colorful magnets on the blackboard, and it made more sense to him.

“Just one more word problem…” he mumbled, snacking on a piece of jerky.

“I’ll set up Rambo’s grooming kit. Pies are in the oven for an hour, so we have plenty of time. Meet me outside when you’re done.” She went downstairs and grabbed the bucket of brushes, heading outside.

“Hey, Rambo, told you we’d be back. Ready for brushing?” she greeted the large, shaggy goat. He was untacked, his saddle and bags piled on the hitching post. She made a mental note to build him a proper saddle rack like she had for Merle and Shiraz.

Rambo nosed her pocket for more rutabaga chips, and she obliged, feeding him some. She tossed a couple flakes of hay into his trough and refilled his water bucket from the outdoor tap, then cleaned out his hooves. Andy joined them not long after, setting up his stool. She passed him the brush bucket and together they worked on brushing through Rambo’s thick coat in companionable quiet. Dusk encroached gradually, painting the sky with deepening shades of purple and pink.

“You know, Logan talks about you to Rambo a lot,” Andy said. He removed another tuft of gunmetal fur from the brush, and it floated down into the collection bucket for Vivi. They had enough to line several pairs of gloves and boots for her winter collection.

“Yeah? What kind of stuff does he say?”

“Hmm…that’s gonna cost you.” Andy smirked at her from the other side of the goat’s back.

“Name your price.”

He tapped his chin. “Can you bake cookies after dinner?”

Charlotte mentally catalogued the supplies she’d seen in Logan’s kitchen. “We have enough to make cookies. Deal.”

“Yes!” Andy pumped his fist. “He says you smell real nice all the time and he wishes he could spend more time with you. That didn’t make no sense to me ‘cause you spend lots of time together.” He scratched his nose, pensive. “I think he meant, like, not fightin’ monsters or anythin’, ‘cause he said the other day he wanted get dinner with you. Then he got all miffed and said you had better things to do. I didn’t think it was a bad idea. Everyone knows he can’t cook; coulda brought leftovers back for me.”

Oh, Logan…She thought back to what she and Logan actually did together, and guilt tightened her chest at the memory of this afternoon’s mishap. He’d never complained once about joining her for whatever excursion she needed his help with. She’d been so focused on the upcoming projects and commissions, she never noticed how tired and stretched thin he was. Logan was ever the reliable partner, in battle, in work, as a friend. Unknowingly, and unintentionally, she’d taken advantage of that.

“Thanks for telling me that, Andy. I’ll talk to him about it.” She filed that away and moved on to brushing Rambo’s horns. Andy took the other side, reaching up on his toes to get the highest points with the bristle brush. The goat bleated low with contentment, his large, yellow eyes half-lidded as the flaky keratin fell away. A coat of coconut oil made them look good as new.

Charlotte announced they were finished, and they packed up and headed inside just as the timer went off for the pies. She’d made two so they could have leftovers later in the week. Andy appreciatively chomped his slices before she fixed plates for herself and Logan, not making a single comment about the carrots and peas she added. It must’ve been a nice change from the usual fare that was more charcoal than food.

“You’re really good at doing this Ma-type stuff. Cookin’, cleanin’, all that. You should come live with us instead. You can take Haru’s old bed,” Andy said, licking his plate clean.

“That might entail giving up my Builder career entirely to clean up after you two. It took me hours just to make dinner and clean the house.”

Andy reluctantly agreed that they did need her to build stuff, too. “Teach Logan, then. He listens to you.”

“I might have to give him a few lessons…” She picked up her and Logan’s plates and knocked on his bedroom door. No sound came from the other side, so she assumed he was fast asleep and let herself inside.

Logan had fallen sleep on top of his blanket, dressed in loose shorts. His bare arm hung loose over the edge of the bed and a curtain of white hair covered his face. Her fingers itched to tuck it behind his ear as she set his plate down and pulled up the desk chair. The faint scent of yellow lavender and freshly washed linen hung in the air. This close to him, she could feel the warmth of his body and smell his rosemary soap. A tiny knot of want formed deep within her, but she pushed it aside. She wasn’t here for that, and she didn’t want to think of him like those other women did.

She didn’t have the heart to wake him for dinner. It was the first time she saw him completely relaxed, relieved of the weight of recent events. The perpetual crease between his brows and the tight set of his jaw made him look so much older than 28.

You want to take me out to dinner, huh? She tapped the tapped the arm of the chair absently. It would be a nice change, sitting down with him in a comfortable booth, talking about…well, probably monster hunting. But she would try to steer the conversation towards other things to get to know him better. It wasn’t hard to guess that he would like monster-hunting-adjacent things like better gear, meds, things to maintain said gear…Peach, she could read him like a book. She almost laughed out loud at the thought but held it back.

Logan stirred, blue eyes blinking open. “Somethin’ smells nice. How long did I sleep?”

Charlotte pursed her lips. “About three hours. I made chicken pot pie.”

He covered a yawn with the back of his hand and sat up. “Thank you.”

She tried not to let her eyes wander across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, keeping them on her own plate. “Andy told me you’re saying things about me to your goat.”

Groaning, he shook his head. “Of course he would. What’d he ask for?”

“Cookies.”

“My deepest secrets sold out for cookies...” the corner of his lips quirked up as he speared a piece of chicken and popped it in his mouth. “Listen, don’t take it seriously, okay? I just…think out loud sometimes and say silly things. It don’t mean nothin’.”

She ate a few more bites of her pie. “You do owe me dinner for cleaning your house and cooking for you.”

He countered that he could hardly cook anything edible, let alone a whole dinner for her, and when she clarified they would eat at the Blue Moon, he stopped chewing and swallowed hard. “Oh, umm…Andy’s comin’ too, right? I’d never hear the end of it we left him out of a good meal.”

“Andy can come, too.” So close.

“Good, good. I’m sure we’re both tired of my cookin’.”

Finished, she set her plate aside. “Logan, do you want a few cooking lessons? I could teach you some basic stuff. Cooking for yourself is cheaper than eating out all the time.”

“I…I s’pose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great! I’ll find a few easy recipes and come by sometime.”

He nodded, and in the quiet moment that followed, the brightness in his blue dimmed. He put his plate down on the desk and rubbed the back of his neck. “About earlier today…”

“We’re all going through a rough time. You, especially. I told you, I’m not mad.”

“How can you forgive me? I nearly shot you point blank. I could’ve killed you, or Justice, or Arvio.”

She placed a hand over his and held his eyes. “I think we all should’ve done a better job looking after you. It shouldn’t have gotten to the point where you’re so tired and overworked, you’re seeing ghosts in the middle of the day. I know—”

Her breath hitched and she bit her lip to collect herself, blinking back tears. “I’m sorry.” He gently squeezed her hand, encouraging her to continue. The things she'd been mulling over at the back of her mind came out a torrent. “I know what it’s like, Logan. To be needed all the time. To feel guilty for taking a break because you have to chase that next gol or find your next meal. And I don’t have a kid to take care of on top of that, so I don’t know half of what you’re going through, but please, take the time to rest, like really rest. The last thing I want is to find you torn apart somewhere in the desert because you were too weak to fight monsters off. What’s Andy going to do, if one day, you don’t—?” the next words were lost to sniffles.

“Hey, hey, easy,” he crooned, guiding her head down to his shoulder. She wrapped one arm around his neck and buried her head into his collarbone. He rubbed one hand up and down her back. Being close to him and inhaling his scent, feeling every breath was enough to steady her. It took several breaths until she calmed down.

“It won’t happen; things are different now. I’m not on the run. I have a home to go back to every night and people that care about me. I’ll take care of myself, and I’ll be there. You don’t gotta worry about me like that.”

“You better,” she sniffed. “I won’t have time to build stuff I’m cleaning up after you all the time. Might as well move in at that point,” she echoed Andy’s words, pulling away to dab at her eyes with her sleeve.

He rubbed the back of her hand with his calloused thumb. “Can’t say I’d be opposed to havin’ you around more…” he cleared his throat and let her hand go, adding quickly, “Andy and Rambo too, of course.”

“Right. Of course. How about we bake cookies for your first lesson?”

He broke out into another grin, and she found herself smiling back. Grabbing a t-shirt from the back of the chair, he put it on while she collected the plates and followed her out the door.

Chapter Text

The sun was particularly aggressive today, beating down from its late afternoon position. Charlotte thought it would’ve been cooler around this time of day. She should’ve known better after a whole year in this desert. She set her pickhammer against the boulder and wiped the sweat from her brow, then took a swig from her water flask on her belt.

It had been a week since the incident at Arvio’s and Logan was in better spirits. The dark circles had faded from his eyes, and she hadn’t caught him sleeping on the job since. Following Andy’s advice, she asked him to tag along with her on easier mining and foraging excursions. Usually they stayed close to town, but today she was out of critical minerals and that warranted a much further trip out into the desert.

Said yakboy leaned against the same boulder several feet away, eyes on his leather-bound notebook while he sketched Rambo as the goat munched on nearby sandgrass. Occasionally he’d look up to scan the horizon for danger. They were quite deep into the Eufala, far enough that they could see only the tops of the mesas and Old World towers Sandrock was built around. She’d found quite a few mineral deposits around boulders piled around a twisted steel frame of some old building.

It was quiet here, enough to hear the wind etch its secrets into the dunes between Logan’s pencil strokes, one grain of sand at a time.

His blue eyes flicked to her and back to the paper. “Remember to take a break if you’re tired.”

“Almost got enough graphite. The pipeline project needs huge filters. And Jane wants more pencils.”

“I’ve figured out by now that ‘enough’ for you is about fifty percent more than you need.” His lips twitched upwards.

“If it saves me a trip out into the desert, that’s one less trip I have to drag you out for.”

“There are other people you can drag out here to be your bodyguard, you know.”

She grinned his way and took up her pickhammer again. “Sure, but I've banned you from ruin diving and I go with Justice and Unsuur instead. And you’re a pretty enough distraction that I might forget to take back fifty percent more than I need.”

He made a noise that was something between a laugh and a clear of his throat. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away, but not before she caught his sheepish smile.

Whenever a flirty one-liner escaped her, that was the typical reaction she got from him. He’d shrug it off, or get embarrassed, and she would have to act like she didn’t mean it. Their dynamic these days wasn’t unlike those first tense moments of a sparring match where they paced around each other, looking for an opening to strike. Only, there was no strike here. There were just endless, infuriatingly careful steps. She wondered, for a second, out here alone in the desert, if he’d object to her marching up to him and kissing him to get the message across.

The strike of metal on stone rang out across the sand as she set to work again. Pushing through until her arms and shoulders threatened to give, Charlotte finally decided she had enough graphite for the filters, and the inevitable commissions Wei would put up requesting the same for other towns across the desert. She strapped her pickhammer to her pack and glanced around for her partner. He’d vanished.

“Rambo, did you see where…?” Good Peach on a cracker, why am I asking the goat?

Rambo snuffled through the sparse brush, unperturbed and content to ignore the existence of all humans until summoned with a whistle.

She shook her head and remembered their agreement to whistle for each other. Shouting his name across the desert would only attract unwanted attention. She made a two-note whistle, the first note higher than the other. Where are you?

Two even notes, not unlike CoCo’s soft coos, answered her from the direction of the ruined building. Come here. Stay quiet.

Out in the middle of nowhere in the desert, he could’ve found anything. Her mind immediately went to the worst options. A camp of bandits – real ones. A nest of Tripions or worse, the chicks of a vicious Dive Buzzard, with the mother not far away. She instinctively checked the skies for any large birds circling overhead.

“It better not be trouble…” she muttered as she crouched down and made the same whistle, letting him know she heard him. Following his trail down the slope, the ruts in the sand lead under an arched, half-melted girder. She ditched her pack and crawled under it, finding him lying prone, sketching something.

She squeezed in beside him under the metal frame, propping herself up on her elbows. In the dim, she didn’t need her tinted goggles and pushed them up to her forehead. Below their rusted, metal ledge, amidst a patch of grass in shafts of sunlight, were three baby Thorny Jumpers. They hissed and growled and grabbed each other’s tails, tumbling over one another as they played. The bulbs on their backs were smooth and light green, like budding leaves in spring. Mama Thorny Jumper basked in a patch of sunlight not far away, ever watchful over her rambunctious offspring.

Charlotte made the tiniest, happy squeal and squeezed Logan’s upper arm. “They’re so cute!” she whispered, pressing her cheek into his shoulder.

“Sure are.” He continued sketching, pencil strokes quick and sharp across the page.

She hardly noticed when he shifted to stow the notebook away, enthralled with the baby lizards. She loved quiet moments like this with him. He saw more beauty and life in the desert than anyone. A couple days ago, he’d shown her a stone pillar adorned with vines and vibrant purple flowers while she was on a spinel-mining trip with him in the Valley of Whispers. He’d been sweet enough to pluck one and tuck it behind her ear. Of course, she blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl. When she got home that night, she pressed the flower in a book, adding to her collection of other desert flowers. She had a frame set aside to display them when they dried.

A warm, gentle squeeze of his calloused hand over hers drew her attention back to him.

“Ready to go?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” She backed out of the cramped space and into the bright desert sun again. She wiped the sand from her clothes and pulled the goggles over her eyes. Logan emerged from under the metal beam and dusted himself off. He took one look at her bulging pack and whistled for Rambo. The goat came skidding down the dune to a stop. Despite her protests that she could carry it, he strapped in down with the saddlebags.

The sun had sunk below the horizon when they finally arrived at his house. The porchlights of their neighbors lit the alley in a homey, golden glow as she helped Logan untack Rambo and brush him down.

“Is Andy home?” she asked as she followed him to the door.

“Nah, he’s with Grandma Vivi. I told him to go to her place for dinner if we were late.”

She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back on her heels. Her heart thudded faster and she asked before she could second-guess and stop herself, “Want to…get dinner? You owe me, remember?”

“Oh, uh, I thought we had another cookin’ lesson planned?”

Honestly, if she had him alone in the house right now, that could either end in disaster or the best damn night of her life. The former was too big of a risk since he’d done nothing other than brush off all her teasing and tell his goat she smelled nice. Plus, she had no idea when Andy was coming back.

“I’m pretty tired…I’d rather just eat out.”

He tossed Rambo a couple flakes of hay and adjusted his hat. “Sure. Let’s go.”

She flashed her brightest grin at the drunk tourist women as she walked by their booth in the Blue Moon. She could’ve cackled at their half-shocked, half-devastated stares.

“Why’re those women starin’ at us?” Logan asked when they sat down opposite each other in a corner booth. Other than the tourists, it was just them and Cooper, Mabel, and Jensen were talking over coffee a few booths over. Well, mostly Cooper was talking.  

“They’re jealous.”

“Of who?”

She pointed to herself and mouthed, “Me.”

His eyes narrowed and his head canted to one side. “Do they…think we’re on a date, or somethin’?”

“Dunno. Probably.” She shrugged.

Before he could ask the clarifying question, Owen walked up to them with a notepad. He looked cheerful. Suspiciously so, like he’d won a bet, or someone owed him a beer. “Evenin’, you two. Can I start you off with drinks?”

“Buckwheat tea for me,” Logan said. He looked to her and said he was ready to order if she was.

She nodded and ordered the same drink and Highwind Fried Rice. He ordered the beef noodles and once Owen was out of earshot, he leaned forward and murmured, “Did he seem kinda…off to you?”

“I got the same feeling. He seemed disturbingly happy. Do you think he’s drinking on the job?”

The yakboy snorted, “It’s too early. He starts stealin’ sips at around eleven when he’s had enough of the tourists.”

She laughed and relaxed into the booth. “What if he’s dating someone?”

Logan passed his hand across his chin in thought. “I’ve spent every other evenin’ drinkin’ with that man for the better part of a season, and before I left, it was nearly every night since I turned eighteen. Sometimes, he mentions Mi-an. And I know if he’s talkin’ about a girl, means he’s hopelessly in love.”

“That makes you sound so old.”

“Hey now, 28’s not a bad age. Of the original Sandrock-bred bachelors around here, I’m…uh, one of the youngest…? Dang it, how old is Unsuur again?”

“Umm…I don’t know, actually. One time he mentioned he was almost thirty.”

Owen came by and served them their tea. Apparently, Logan liked salt in his tea as much as he did in his hot chocolate.

“You know, this is nice.” She bobbed her tea bag up and down in her mug. “Dinner, just the two of us. No invasion or imminent threat to the town…”

“I’d be the first one you’d hear anythin’ from.”

“I know.” She stirred sugar into her tea. “Have to enjoy it while it lasts.” In the quiet between them, the question came as naturally as her next breath. “What are you going to do now?”

His brows drew together, and he didn’t answer for a long moment, focusing on his mug. She watched him from under her lashes, swirling her spoon lazily. There was less tension in his shoulders and jawline. His blue eyes took on a deeper shade in the warm, low light of the restaurant, like midnight sky over the desert. They were no longer hollow, and empty, and tired.

“I’ll take care of Andy, of course. Keep in touch with Haru. I…haven’t thought about myself much. Still gettin’ used to wakin’ up in my own bed, in my own house. I know folks are happy to have me back, but I’ve got damage to make up for, and it’s not easy learnin’ to take care of myself. Always had Haru, you know?” He glanced up from his mug and met her eyes only for a second before looking down again. “You’ve…you’ve helped a lot.”

Her head tipped to one side. “How so? If anything, I’ve made you work too hard.”

Owen dropped by with their dishes and she smiled at him in thanks.

She started on her meal while Logan continued, “I used to sketch a lot when me and Pa were out in the desert together. I had to be in the right state of mind, though. Couldn’t do it when I was worried, or tired. After he died, I couldn’t touch that book. Felt like those sketches were drawn by a stranger,” his voice caught and took a long sip of tea as though to hide it. “But since we’ve been spendin’ time together, I can sketch again. Last week when you took care of me was the first time everythin’ was…quiet. I didn’t need to worry about food, or Andy, and before I knew it, I’d slept a damn hour in that bath,” he chuckled. “And every afternoon now is routine with you; I know what to expect. I look forward to it. Then Andy comes home from school, and I try to make dinner with what you’ve taught me. It’s all…helped me settle, is what I’m sayin’.”

“Oh, Logan…” Her heart broke and his words mended it back together. She reached out across the table and squeezed his hand.

His hand turned over beneath hers, thumb passing over her knuckles, but he tensed up a second and retracted it like he caught himself doing something he shouldn’t. “Sorry, uh, I-I didn’t mean to get all sentimental.”

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize. It makes me happy to know you’re in a better place.”

“Mhm.” He took up his fork and said they should eat before their food went cold.

Once their plates were empty, he said, “Since you did all that cleanin’ for us, Andy tidies up around the house more and keeps most of his shenanigans outside.” His eyes brightened and he pointed his fork at her. “You’re a good influence on him. Keeps askin’ when you’re gonna move in, and I have to keep tellin’ him you ain’t, but he likes your cookin’ so much, he doesn’t give up.”

“Do you want me to come by more?”

“I…well, I know you’re busy. But I do need the cookin’ lessons…just don’t want to take up all your time, what with the pipeline project and all.”

She assured him she definitely didn’t mind.

Owen came by with the bill and Logan pulled out his coin purse, handing the money to him. He counted it and bid them a good night, and they headed back to his house.

Logan hooked his thumbs into his pockets and turned to her when they reached his door. “Hey, thanks for talkin’ with me tonight. You’ve got a knack for doin’ things for me I didn’t know I needed.” He gave her a shy smile.

“My door’s always open. I’m here for you, you know that.”

He ducked his head and nodded. “Charlotte, uh…can I hug you?”

She stepped into him and wrapped her arms around him, splaying her fingers just enough to get an appreciation of the muscle along his lower back. What she expected was a quick thing like how she and Nia hugged each other, short and sweet.

Logan didn’t hug like Nia. At all. He held her tight to his chest with no intention of letting her go and rested his chin atop her head. Letting her eyes flutter shut, she relaxed and nestled her head into the curve of his bicep, no intention of stepping away, either. His heart thudded fast against her cheek, matching her own, and she gently inhaled the scent of desert dust and hay on his clothes. She’d forgotten the simple pleasure of being held by a man. The heat that warmed her down to her core. Each breath quieted her thoughts and settled a kind of peace within her she didn't know how deeply she needed. Nothing could touch her here, not her worries about her next commission, or her anxiety about the greenification efforts.

For the space of uncounted breaths, they stayed like that. His heartbeat slowed. Crickets chirruped around them, and the wind rustled the first fallen leaves of autumn past their feet. 

His head shifted, and his lips grazed her temple as he murmured, “Thank you.”

With one last squeeze she let him go, glad it was dark so he couldn’t see how flushed her face was. The air around her cooled down rapidly in the absence of Logan’s warmth, leaving her skin hot as though she’d developed a flash fever. He strode up to his door.

She lightly cleared her throat to hide the unsteadiness in her voice. "So, when am I going to see it?" 

"See what?"

"Your sketchbook!"

Logan shrugged one shoulder, but his pinched lips betrayed his reluctance. "Oh, I ain't some great artist. They're just...silly little drawin's. Nothin' important."

"They can't be that terrible. C'mon, one peek," she pouted.

"Goodnight, Charlotte." He tipped his hat to her, closing his door behind him.

Unbeknownst to him, he'd only fired up a new determination within her, and the gears in her brain churned over ideas on how to get at that book. Her steps home were light with a certain kind of giddiness she never thought she’d feel again after her breakup.