I took it. “Thanks. But I don’t think I’ll be needing them anymore.” I shoved the glove in my pocket and glanced down at my hands, at the scars that marred my skin. Somehow I didn’t feel ashamed about them anymore. Instead, I felt a sense of pride and joy mixing with a sense of relief.
Logan gave me another of his drool-worthy smiles. If he didn’t stop that, I might have to do something about it.
“Want to come in? I’m making pancakes.”
Logan beamed, and a wicked part of me wanted to grab his face and kiss the hell out of him.
“Yeah. Pancakes sound great,” he answered as he stepped inside and walked past me.
I smiled. There he was, alive. We were both alive.
And then I closed the door behind me.