Logan's POV
This time, I don't wake up to Noah's sobbing.
Instead, I come to with something… heavy… pressing down on my chest. It's hard to breathe, but not in a panicky, near-death way. It's in more like a 'being pressed down by an excited cat sleeping on your sternum' kind of way. Not that I'd know, I've never had a cat.
But I do have a son.
And this is the kind of suffocation that comes with tiny feet digging gleefully into my ribs.
I hear his babbling.
A giggle.
Then a foot lodges itself under my ribcage and I wheeze, "Sweet Goddess."
Oliver squeals in delight.
"Careful, Bug," Noah says softly, even though I can hear the smile in his voice. "Let Papa Logan rest."
The weight is lifted from my chest, and I crack my eyes open to find Noah standing beside my bed, cradling Oliver on his hip.
