Claws and Heartstrings: Logan Howlett | Wolverine ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

Chapter Twenty-Two

He paused, making sure everyone was paying attention. "If there's no sign of Luca or Magneto, evacuate the building immediately," he instructed. "Communicate through your earpieces to confirm the building is clear, then move on to the next one. Once we identify which building Luca is in, ensure his extraction without harm."

I glanced at Logan, who was studying the map with a furrowed brow. I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. This mission was crucial, and the stakes were high. I needed to see my brother. I needed to know he was okay.

Logan and I started to walk towards the motel, an awkward silence hanging between us like a thick fog. I wanted so desperately to talk to him about what happened, to clear the air, but a part of me knew he was giving me the space I said "I wanted."

Space to figure out my feelings... but at the same time, I didn't want it. I missed him. The way he used to make me feel when we weren't tiptoeing around each other, when things weren't so complicated. The ache of not being able to act on how I felt toward him—the frustration of holding it all in—was worse than the confusion of trying to sort out my emotions. But how could I possibly tell him that?

I stole a quick glance at Logan out of the corner of my eye. He looked as stoic as ever, his jaw set tight like a mask that barely hid the tension beneath. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, like he was struggling to hold everything in.

He always looked calm, but I could feel the turmoil churning just beneath the surface.

We reached the motel, and my stomach twisted. Great. This was the last place I ever wanted to be, especially not alone with him. Just the two of us. In a dingy motel room. Perfect.

I forced a casual smile, trying to convince myself that this was fine. "I think this is it," I said, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.

Logan gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable. "Got the key?" he asked, his voice low, detached.

I pulled the key from my pocket, trying to ignore the way my hands felt shaky as I passed it to him. He unlocked the door, flicking on the light. The room flickered with an ominous hum, casting shadows that made everything seem just a little more... off. The dingy carpet and stained sheets didn't exactly scream comfort. My eyes landed on the bed. And the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

There's only one bed?

I cursed under my breath. "Fuck me."

Did I just say that out loud? Of course I did. I could practically hear the embarrassment screaming in my head. I was an idiot. A total idiot.

Logan turned his head toward me, his sharp eyes catching the words that had slipped from my lips. A low sigh escaped him before he stepped inside. "Looks like the Professor's on a budget," he said, his voice laced with dry sarcasm.

His eyes scanned the room with a look that was half distaste, half resignation—as though he was already calculating the most tolerable way to endure the night in this hole-in-the-wall. His gaze flickered back to me. "You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

A cold wave of unease washed over me. Was he misunderstanding? I hadn't meant it that way, but sharing a bed would just make everything so much more awkward. Yet before I could stop myself, the words spilled out, way too fast, and way too loud.

"No, no, it's fine!" I blurted, my voice a few octaves higher than usual. I cursed internally, wishing I could disappear into the floor. "We can—uh, we can sleep together. It's just one night." Did I just say that? My face was burning. Sleep together? God, someone kill me now.

Logan's lips quirked into a half-smirk, clearly entertained by my mess of words. He dropped his bag casually on the floor, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Are you sure?"