Updated Nov 27, 2025 • ~10 min read
Jo woke up on the couch at 2 AM with a crick in her neck and Olive pressed against her legs.
The dog lifted her cone-covered head and whined softly.
“Need to go out?” Jo asked groggily.
Olive’s tail wagged.
Right. Post-surgery bladder needs didn’t care about the time.
Jo grabbed her phone for the flashlight, slipped on shoes, and carefully helped Olive down from the couch. The dog limped on three legs, keeping her injured paw elevated.
“Easy, girl. Nice and slow.”
They made it outside to Olive’s usual spot. Jo stood there in pajamas and a cardigan, watching her dog pee while trying not to think about how pathetic this looked.
A motorcycle engine rumbled nearby.
Logan appeared around the corner, still in his clothes from earlier, helmet under his arm.
“You’re up,” he said, not sounding particularly surprised.
“Olive needed to go out. You’re up.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Why?”
Logan shrugged. “Kept thinking about earlier. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Went for a drive. Clear my head. Saw your lights on when I got back.”
Olive finished her business and limped over to Logan, tail wagging despite the cone and the stitches.
“Hey, troublemaker,” Logan said softly, crouching to scratch behind her ears. “How are you feeling?”
Olive licked his hand.
“That’s a yes, apparently.” Logan looked up at Jo. “You look exhausted.”
“Gee, thanks. You really know how to charm a girl.”
“I mean you should be sleeping. Not standing in the yard at 2 AM.”
“Someone has to supervise the wounded.”
“You want company? I’m wide awake anyway.”
Jo should say no. Should send him home, go back to sleep, maintain some semblance of boundaries.
“Yes,” she said instead. “Company would be good.”
Back in her apartment, Logan made them both tea while Jo got Olive resettled on the couch with fresh water and her pain medication.
“You’re good with her,” Logan observed, handing Jo a mug. “Natural caretaker.”
“I worry I’m not doing enough. That I’m missing something.”
“You’re doing fine. Better than fine.”
They sat on opposite ends of the couch, Olive sprawled between them, the apartment quiet except for the occasional car passing outside.
“Can I ask you something?” Jo said.
“Always.”
“Earlier, at the vet, you knew exactly what to do. How to calm her down, what to tell the vet, all of it. That wasn’t just from having Bear. That was something more.”
Logan was quiet for a long moment, staring into his tea.
“Bear wasn’t my first dog,” he said finally. “He was my second. I had another one before him. Scout. Had him when I was a teenager.”
“What happened?”
“He got hit by a car. I was seventeen. Walking him off-leash because I thought I was invincible and rules didn’t apply to me. He saw a squirrel, ran into the road.” Logan’s voice went flat. “Died in my arms before we could get him to a vet.”
Jo’s chest tightened. “Logan, I’m so sorry.”
“It was my fault. If I’d kept him on the leash like my mom said, he’d have been fine.”
“You were a kid.”
“I was old enough to know better.”
“Knowing better doesn’t mean you won’t make mistakes. That’s being human.”
Logan looked at her, something vulnerable in his expression. “I swore I’d never have another dog. Couldn’t go through that again. But four years later, I saw Bear in that shelter and…” He shrugged. “Couldn’t walk away.”
“And you lost him too.”
“Yeah. But at least with Bear, it wasn’t my fault. Just life. Just cancer. Nothing I could have done differently.”
“Except the grief still hurts.”
“Yeah. It does.”
Jo shifted closer, closing some of the distance between them. Olive grumbled at being disturbed but didn’t move.
“Is that why you were so good today? Why you knew exactly what to do?”
“I’ve been through it before. Multiple times. The panic, the blood, the emergency vet. I know how it feels. Didn’t want you to go through it alone.”
“Thank you. For that. For all of it.”
Logan set down his tea and turned to face her fully. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone?”
“Of course.”
“When Bear died, I didn’t leave my apartment for three days. Called in sick to work. Didn’t answer calls. Just… shut down completely. My business partner had to physically come over and drag me out.”
“That’s grief. That’s normal.”
“Everyone kept saying I should just get another dog. Like Bear was replaceable. Like any dog would fill the hole he left.” Logan’s hands clenched. “But he wasn’t replaceable. None of them are. Scout wasn’t. Bear wasn’t. They were individuals. Unique. And losing them hurt because they mattered, not because they were generic pets.”
Jo’s eyes stung. “I understand that. When Gran died, people kept telling me ‘at least she lived a long life’ like that made losing her easier. But it didn’t. She was my person. The only family I had. And she was gone.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-four. Just graduated college. She’d been so proud, told me she’d finally done her job. Died three months later. Heart attack. Quick and painless, they said. Like that was supposed to be comforting.”
“Were you close?”
“She was everything. Mom, dad, grandma, best friend. She taught me how to ride a bike, helped with homework, listened to me cry about boys. She was the person who believed I could be anything even when I didn’t believe in myself.”
Logan’s hand found hers. “She sounds incredible.”
“She was. Would have loved you, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She liked people who showed up. Who did what they said they would. Who protected the people they cared about.” Jo squeezed his hand. “You’re exactly the kind of person she’d have approved of.”
“High praise from someone I never met.”
“The highest.”
They sat in comfortable silence, hands intertwined, Olive snoring softly between them.
“Can I tell you what scared me most today?” Jo said quietly.
“What?”
“Not the blood or the injury or even the surgery. It was the moment when Olive was gone, being operated on, and I was just sitting there helpless. Knowing that if something went wrong, I couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t control it. Just had to trust and hope.”
“That’s the hardest part. Letting go of control.”
“I’m really bad at that.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Jo laughed wetly. “I schedule my laundry days and read doormat reviews compulsively and color-code my closet because if I can control the small things, maybe the big things won’t feel so scary.”
“And?”
“And it doesn’t work. The big things are still scary. Life is still unpredictable. Dogs still get hurt and people still die and elevators still break down.”
“So what do you do?”
“I don’t know. What do you do?”
Logan considered. “I focus on what I can control. My art. My business. Showing up for people who matter. And I try to let the rest go.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“Not great, honestly. I’m a control freak in different ways. I just hide it better.”
They smiled at each other, two anxious people trying to figure out how to be less anxious together.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” Jo said. “Even at 2 AM on my disaster couch with my injured dog. This feels right.”
“It does.”
“Are you still nervous? About tomorrow—well, tonight now, I guess. Our date.”
“Terrified.”
“Really?”
“Really. What if I mess it up? Say the wrong thing? You realize I’m actually boring and not worth the effort?”
“Logan, you drove me to an emergency vet on your motorcycle. You held my dog while she got stitches. You showed up at 2 AM because you couldn’t stop thinking about me. You’re the opposite of boring.”
“Or I’m predictable. The guy who always shows up. The dependable one. Not exciting or spontaneous or—”
“Stop.” Jo shifted closer, until their knees were touching. “You’re doing it again. Creating problems that don’t exist.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
“Fair point.” Jo took a breath. “Here’s what I know. You make me feel safe. Seen. Like I’m not too much or too anxious or too chaotic. And that’s not boring. That’s everything.”
Logan’s throat worked. “Jo—”
“And if you’re worried about being predictable, don’t be. Because every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me. You quoted poetry in a coffee shop. You keep plants alive. You make incredible art and then act like it’s no big deal. You’re full of depths I haven’t even started to explore.”
“You’re pretty good at this pep talk thing.”
“I’m motivated. I don’t want you talking yourself out of this before it even starts.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Promise?”
Logan leaned forward, close enough that Jo could count his eyelashes, see the flecks of gray in his dark eyes, feel his breath on her face.
“I promise,” he said quietly. “I’m all in, Abbott. Scary as it is, I’m in.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They stayed like that, foreheads almost touching, the space between them charged with possibility.
But Logan pulled back again.
“Friday,” he said, voice rough. “Our first kiss happens on our first date. I’m not negotiating on that.”
“You’re very committed to this plan.”
“I am. It’ll be worth the wait.”
“How do you know?”
“Because everything with you has been worth the wait.”
Jo’s heart did that annoying flutter thing. “Smooth.”
“I have my moments.”
They talked for another hour. About childhood memories and embarrassing moments and dreams for the future. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by comfortable silences and shared laughter.
When the sky started lightening with pre-dawn gray, Logan finally stood.
“I should let you sleep. You have a big day.”
“So do you.”
“Yeah. Need to make sure everything’s perfect.”
“It will be. Even if it’s a disaster, it’ll be perfect.”
Logan smiled. “Only you would say that.”
“It’s my superpower. Finding the good in chaos.”
At the door, Logan paused. “Thanks for letting me stay. For the tea and the talk and just… being you.”
“Thanks for showing up. Again.”
“Always.”
After he left, Jo crawled into bed properly, setting an alarm for a reasonable hour. Olive limped in and settled at the foot of the bed, cone clanking against the frame.
“Big day today, girl,” Jo whispered. “First official date with Logan.”
Olive sighed contentedly.
“You approve, don’t you? Of course you do. You probably planned this whole thing.”
Tail thump.
“Genius dog.”
Jo fell asleep thinking about Logan’s promise. About being all in. About taking the leap even when it was terrifying.
Maybe that’s what bravery was.
Not the absence of fear, but choosing to move forward anyway.
Choosing to hope even when hope felt dangerous.
Choosing to let someone in even when your heart had been broken before.
In a few hours, she’d get ready for their date.
But for now, she’d sleep.
Dreamlessly.
Peacefully.
With the certainty that whatever came next, she wouldn’t face it alone.
Logan was all in.
And so was she.
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