Never Been Ready (Ready #2)(69)

"No, absolutely not. Leah thinks you're a pretty cool dude. She could never hate you."

His eyes flashed up to mine at those words, and I was momentarily stunned again by how much his eyes mirrored mine. They were green with flecks of blue and brown, but now, they were a bit greener as he smiled shyly.

"She's really pretty."

What is this? A crush?

"Yes, she is." I grinned. Yep, definitely my son.

"Do you think she'll still let us eat pancakes?"

"Let's go find out."

We walked out together and found Leah on the couch, still in her bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Whenever she wore them, I remembered that night when I'd shown up here, trying to sleep with her. I'd thought I would be able to get her out of my system, nice and easy. I had been fooling myself. She was an addiction I never wanted to cure. She was my Hollywood happy ending, and I couldn't wait to spend every moment of our lives together making real-life movie magic.

Leah jumped from the couch, fiddling with the tie of her robe. She looked nervous and devastated. I hated seeing her this way. I knew she felt guilty for upsetting Connor, and I understood. I would have felt the same way, but we couldn't keep the bad from happening. We couldn't shelter him from his feelings. I knew she'd been through something similar, and I knew the pain she had gone through. Part of her just wanted to bottle him up and keep him safe from everything, and I loved her for it. But the realistic side of her understood that he had to face his fears and learn to live life without Heather, no matter how hard that would be.

"I'm so sorry, Leah," Connor said before giving her a long hug.

She looked at me before bending down and embracing him. "No problem, Little Man."

"Okay, okay...that's enough hugging, Casanova," I said, grinning. "She's mine. Go find someone your own size."

I ruffled his hair as we made our way to the kitchen again.

"What do you want for breakfast, Connor?" Leah asked.

The table had been cleared, except for the plates and juice glasses. I saw a light on in the oven, and I figured she'd stuck everything under the warmer. Connor glanced over at me, and I gave him a slight encouraging nod.

He took a deep breath and said, "I think I'll have some chocolate chip pancakes."

"You sure?" Leah asked quietly.

"Yep, one memory at a time. Right, Declan?"

"That's right, Little Man. That's right."

Leah pulled out the pancakes and bacon from the oven, and we settled at the table. I told a story about one of my first auditions in Hollywood, causing them both to laugh. It had been for a horror movie, and the part had been for a victim who got attacked in his car. I hadn't gotten it. Apparently, my screams weren't so good. Leah about choked on her chocolate chip pancake when I said that, remembering our game from earlier in the morning.

We made it through breakfast, and Connor managed to polish off three pancakes and a pile of bacon.

He smiled down at his empty plate and looked at me. "Thanks."

"Anytime, dude. Let's go kill some aliens now."

And just like that, he made it through to the other side, unscathed and stronger.

Pancakes and hugs —they were miracle workers.

Chapter Twenty-Four

~Leah~

"Logan, next time you have cancer and get a clean bill of health, can you do it in the fall?" I joked, sweeping a bead of sweat as it trickled down my temple as we all stood around in Logan and Clare's backyard.

It was summer. Months had passed by since Declan had moved in. We'd had so many happy days. I didn't think life could get better.

Until last week, when a hysterical Clare had called me, saying the words we'd prayed for. Logan was officially in remission. No signs of cancer could be found. The chemo and radiation had done their jobs. He would still have to go back in for checkups, but other than that, he was better.

I'd collapsed in the bedroom when she told me, crying tears of joy for my best friend and for a man I'd come to love. Logan had saved Clare. He'd loved her when she had needed to be loved so desperately. Knowing he was going to okay...I couldn't explain it. I felt relief, joy, elation. It was overwhelming. Knowing what the alternative was, remembering the feeling of losing Ethan, I'd cherished that moment. We'd hung up, and I'd told her I'd call her soon.

Declan, of course, had rushed into the bedroom, ready to kill whoever or whatever had harmed me, but when he had seen me smiling, he'd calmed and asked me what had happened.

"Logan...he's in remission."

Declan's eyes had closed tightly as he'd braced himself against the doorframe for a moment. I hadn't realized how worried Declan had been until then —when I'd seen his visible relief for his longtime friend.

He'd opened his eyes, and slowly, he'd smiled. His eyes had crinkled a bit, giving him that boyish look I loved so much.

"I think we need a party," he'd suggested.

And that was how we all ended up at Logan and Clare's a week later. We'd offered to host it, but since we hadn't found a house we both could agree on yet, the party had been moved here for space. Our townhouse, although spacious, just couldn't hold more than a few people comfortably. This party was only for immediate family and us, but it still would have been cramped. We really needed a new house.