The Christmas Spark (Erotic Romance Story)

[WrittenMuseum]

The coffee shop smelled of roasted beans, warm cinnamon, and something faintly sweet—vanilla, maybe. Outside, the snow fell in slow, lazy flakes, settling gently on the rooftops and the branches of the evergreens lining the street. The windows of Brews & Books fogged slightly from the heat inside, blurring the colorful Christmas lights strung across the town square.

Evan Hart sat at his usual table by the corner window, one hand curled around a steaming mug of black coffee. His other hand rested on a book he wasn’t reading, his thumb absently tracing the frayed edge of the cover. The book was old, a thrift-store find he’d picked up years ago—a collection of poetry he liked to revisit when his mind felt restless. Lately, it felt restless all the time.

He glanced outside, watching as a couple walked hand in hand through the snow, their laughter muted by the glass. The man held an oversized bag from the local bakery, and the woman leaned into his arm as if to soak up his warmth. Evan looked away quickly, a dull ache spreading in his chest.

“Still staring at strangers like a creep?”

Evan flinched at the voice, snapping his head toward the seat across from him. Connor was already sliding into the chair, his grin as wide and easy as ever. He shrugged off his coat, snowflakes clinging to his dark curls and the shoulders of his flannel shirt.

“I wasn’t staring,” Evan muttered, pulling his hand back from the book. “I was...thinking.”

“Sure you were,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Thinking about what? The meaning of life? The downfall of capitalism? Or—let me guess—the one that got away?”

Evan sighed, his shoulders slumping. He picked up his mug and took a sip, letting the bitter coffee burn its way down his throat. “Do you ever quit?”

“Nope,” Connor said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. He studied Evan for a moment, his grin fading slightly. “You look like hell, you know.”

“Thanks,” Evan said dryly, setting the mug back down. “Just what I needed to hear.”

“I’m serious,” Connor said, leaning forward again. “You’ve been like this for weeks. Months, even. Staring out windows, moping around town, avoiding everyone. It’s not healthy.”

Evan clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the faint swirl of steam rising from his coffee. He knew Connor meant well, but that didn’t make the words any easier to hear.

“I’m fine,” Evan said finally, the lie heavy on his tongue. “I just need time.”

Connor snorted. “Time isn’t going to fix this, man. You need to get out of here. Do something. Anything.”

Evan didn’t respond. He didn’t have the energy to argue, and besides, Connor wasn’t wrong. He’d been stuck in a rut since the breakup—a rut so deep it felt like he was sinking.

A Push in the Right Direction

Connor tapped his fingers against the table, his expression shifting from teasing to thoughtful. “Alright,” he said finally. “You’re leaving.”

Evan blinked. “What?”

“You’re leaving,” Connor repeated, his tone firm. “I’m sending you away for a few days. Somewhere quiet, where you can clear your head and stop torturing yourself.”

“Connor—”

“No arguments,” Connor said, holding up a hand to cut him off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, sliding it across the table. “There’s a cabin in the mountains. It’s quiet, private, and perfect for getting your shit together.”

Evan stared at the paper but didn’t pick it up. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Connor asked, his grin returning. “I already booked it. All you have to do is pack a bag and drive.”

Evan shook his head, the beginnings of a protest rising in his throat. But Connor gave him that look—the one that said he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I can’t just leave,” Evan said weakly. “I have work.”

“It’s Christmas,” Connor said. “Nobody’s working. Besides, when was the last time you took a break? A real break, not just sitting in this café pretending to read?”

Evan didn’t respond. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone anywhere outside of town, let alone taken a vacation. The idea of leaving—of stepping away from everything, even for a little while—was tempting. But it also felt daunting, like admitting he couldn’t handle his own life.

“I don’t know,” Evan said finally, his voice quiet.

Connor leaned forward, his grin softening into something gentler. “Come on, man. You’ve been through a lot. You deserve this. Just...trust me, okay?”

Evan looked down at the paper again, the address scrawled across it in Connor’s messy handwriting. He could already feel the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. But maybe Connor was right. Maybe a change of scenery was exactly what he needed.

“Fine,” Evan said, picking up the paper and folding it into his pocket. “But if this turns out to be a disaster, I’m blaming you.”

Connor laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Deal. Now go home and pack. And don’t forget your toothbrush this time.”

Evan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later.”

Evan walked home from the café, the paper with the cabin address tucked firmly into his pocket. The snow had picked up, swirling around him in soft flakes that clung to his jacket and dark hair. The streets were quiet, the cheerful lights and holiday decorations standing in stark contrast to the heavy weight in his chest.

His apartment wasn’t far—a modest one-bedroom over the hardware store. It was small but functional, the kind of place you didn’t notice until you needed it. He climbed the narrow staircase to his door, fumbling with his keys in the cold before stepping inside. The air was still, the silence a reminder of just how empty it had felt lately.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. His eyes wandered to the corner where the Christmas tree had stood the year before. He and Mia had picked it out together, arguing playfully over which one was “the perfect height.” She’d wanted something tall and elegant, while he preferred something smaller, more manageable. In the end, they’d compromised, settling on a mid-sized tree that somehow managed to feel just right.

This year, there was no tree. No lights. No decorations. Just the faint echo of memories he couldn’t quite shake.

Evan shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door. He glanced at the clock on the wall—early afternoon, though the heavy clouds outside made it feel later. He considered unpacking the bag of books and groceries he’d bought earlier but decided against it. Instead, he crossed the small living room to the worn couch and sat down heavily, running a hand through his hair.

Connor’s words replayed in his mind. You need this. Just trust me, okay?

He sighed, pulling the paper from his pocket and unfolding it. The address stared back at him, as though daring him to go through with it. A cabin in the middle of nowhere—what was Connor thinking? It wasn’t like Evan was the outdoorsy type. He’d spent most of his life in this town, sticking to the things he knew. The idea of being completely alone, away from everything familiar, was equal parts terrifying and strangely appealing.

Evan leaned back, letting his head rest against the cushions. Maybe Connor was right. Maybe a change of scenery would help. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose.



Packing the Pieces

Evan didn’t own much, so packing didn’t take long. A couple of sweaters, jeans, thick socks, and his heaviest boots. He tossed in a scarf and gloves for good measure, along with his favorite book—the one he’d been pretending to read at the café. He hesitated before grabbing a framed photo from the shelf, one of him and Mia at the town fair last summer. Her smile was bright, her arm looped through his as they stood in front of the Ferris wheel. He set the frame back down.

Instead, he grabbed the thermos Connor had given him years ago, a battered thing with a dent near the bottom. It was scratched and faded, but it still worked. He filled it with coffee, packed it alongside his things, and zipped up the bag.

The drive up to the mountains wasn’t far—Connor had promised it was only a couple of hours. But the way the snow was coming down, it might as well have been on another planet. He checked the weather app on his phone, frowning at the blizzard warning blinking on the screen. The storm wasn’t supposed to hit until late tonight, though. If he left now, he could beat it.

With one last glance around the apartment, he slung the bag over his shoulder and locked the door behind him.



The Drive

The snow began to fall harder as Evan left the town limits, the familiar streets giving way to long stretches of empty road flanked by dense pine forests. The radio crackled faintly, caught between static and the faint strains of a Christmas carol. He turned it off, preferring the sound of the tires crunching over the snow and the rhythmic squeak of the windshield wipers.

His thoughts wandered as he drove, memories of Mia creeping in despite his best efforts to push them away. They’d met at a friend’s party, her laughter cutting through the noise like sunlight breaking through clouds. He’d been smitten almost instantly, drawn to her quick wit and easy charm.

The relationship had been good—for a while. They’d built a life together, balancing each other’s quirks and habits. But over time, the cracks began to show. Arguments about nothing turned into arguments about everything, and the warmth between them slowly faded into something colder, sharper. By the end, it felt like they were speaking different languages.

Evan tightened his grip on the wheel, shaking his head. It didn’t matter now. She was gone, and he needed to figure out how to move forward.

The snow thickened as he climbed higher into the mountains, the road winding through narrow passes and sharp curves. His phone lost signal about thirty minutes ago, leaving him alone with the sound of the storm building around him. The address Connor had given him was scrawled on a piece of paper on the passenger seat, but there were no road signs, no landmarks—just the endless expanse of white.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the cabin came into view. It was nestled in a small clearing, its dark wood exterior partially obscured by the swirling snow. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the faint glow of light spilled from the windows, illuminating the porch and the neatly stacked pile of firewood beside the door.

Evan exhaled slowly, relief flooding through him. He pulled into the small driveway, but as he stepped out of the car, the wind whipped around him, stinging his face and making him shiver. The storm was picking up faster than he’d expected.

He grabbed his bag from the backseat and trudged toward the cabin, his boots sinking into the snow with each step. When he reached the porch, he raised a hand to knock but hesitated. What if Connor had been wrong? What if this wasn’t the right place?

Before he could second-guess himself, the door swung open, and Evan found himself face-to-face with a man who looked as though he belonged to the mountains themselves.

_____

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[WrittenMuseum]

Logan

Evan stood frozen on the porch, the biting wind whipping around him, as he stared at the man who stood in the doorway. His first instinct was to apologize, to make some excuse and leave, but something about the stranger’s presence made him freeze. The man was tall—taller than Evan by a good few inches—his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he leaned slightly against the frame, arms crossed in a way that spoke more of ease than any kind of guard. He was rugged, with strong, chiseled features that seemed carved out of stone: a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and a set of lips that looked like they’d been made for sarcastic smiles or biting remarks.

His hair was a rich dark blond, slightly tousled from the wind, the soft curls falling just above his ears. His eyes—those striking, icy blue eyes—were focused on Evan with an intensity that made him feel exposed, as though the man could see straight through him. Despite the warmth inside the cabin, Evan felt a chill as their gazes locked. The man was undeniably handsome, the kind of guy you noticed the second you saw him, but there was something cold about him. His eyes were sharp, assessing, as though he had no interest in making Evan feel welcome—only in understanding what brought him to his door.

"Can I help you?" the man’s voice was low, rich, and almost effortless. It was the kind of voice that seemed to carry without effort, like a command or a suggestion, as if he was used to getting his way. There was no warmth in his tone, just a directness that sent a jolt through Evan’s chest.

Evan took a step forward, clutching the strap of his bag tighter. “Uh, yeah,” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. “I think there’s been a mistake. My friend booked this cabin for me.”

The man raised an eyebrow, his lips curving slightly as he pushed off the doorframe and took a small step closer, though he didn’t move too far. His presence was magnetic—everything about him radiated confidence, even in the way he stood. “This is my family’s cabin,” he said flatly, the words carrying the weight of finality. “Pretty sure it wasn’t on Airbnb.”

Evan felt his stomach sink, the weight of the misunderstanding crashing over him like the cold wind. Had he been given the wrong directions? His heart skipped a beat. What now?

“I—” Evan began, but the man had already moved aside, his sharp eyes studying Evan with a dispassionate interest.

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, and the silence stretched, thickening the air between them. He seemed to be sizing Evan up—looking at him not with judgment, but with quiet scrutiny.

Evan shifted uncomfortably. He was used to being seen. He was tall, average-looking in a way that didn't quite make him stand out, but there was something about Logan’s cool, appraising stare that made him feel suddenly out of place. Even his appearance, despite being ruggedly handsome, seemed almost aloof—like someone who was accustomed to being admired but didn’t care for it. His jawline was sharp, clean-cut, and the slight stubble along his chin only emphasized it. His body was broad and lean, muscles apparent beneath the casual flannel shirt that fit him perfectly—too perfectly. Every movement seemed calculated, as though he was aware of how his body commanded attention, but he didn’t care enough to give anything away.

“Look,” Logan said after a beat, his tone softer now, but still distant. He opened the door wider, motioning for Evan to come in. “The storm’s only getting worse. You’ll freeze out there before you make it anywhere.”

Evan stood still for a moment, uncertainty clashing with the warmth of the cabin that he could feel just behind the door. He didn’t know this man, didn’t even know if he should be here, but there was something about the storm—the cold that was slowly seeping into his skin—that made him step forward into the threshold.

Logan stepped back slightly as Evan passed, but his gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer than necessary, his eyes never leaving Evan’s face, almost as if studying him. There was something about the way Logan’s expression shifted, so subtly, that Evan couldn’t quite place. Was it curiosity? Something else?

“Thanks,” Evan murmured, pulling off his boots by the door and leaving them in a neat pile. He felt self-conscious under Logan’s gaze but tried to ignore the prickling feeling creeping up the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if—”

“You’ll be fine,” Logan cut him off, his tone still clipped, but there was something oddly reassuring in it, despite the coolness. “You can’t go back down in that storm, anyway.”

Evan nodded, still feeling the weight of the awkwardness between them. Logan didn’t seem like the kind of guy to make small talk. He just... was. The kind of person who existed in a space where people either followed or fell away.

Evan looked around the cabin, taking in the warm glow of the fireplace in the corner and the rich scent of wood filling the air. The cabin was much nicer than he expected—rustic yet cozy, with leather chairs, a large sectional sofa, and wooden shelves filled with books and knick-knacks. He could feel the heat radiating from the fire, and his body seemed to thaw out as he stood there, taking it in.

“You look like you’ve never seen a fire before,” Logan said, his voice still that easy, flat drawl.

Evan glanced back at him, momentarily thrown by the comment. “No. It’s not that. Just... this place is nice.”

Logan nodded, but didn’t offer more. His eyes, though, seemed to soften just a bit as he moved across the room. He set down the wood he’d been holding beside the fire and picked up a poker, adjusting the logs with a practiced motion. The action was mundane, simple, but the focus he put into it, the ease with which his hands moved, made it look effortless.

Evan finally took a deep breath, feeling a bit less exposed. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, trying again, his voice gentler. “I wasn’t expecting...”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “It’s fine,” he said, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same cool neutrality. “You’re here now.”

Evan didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he simply nodded.

Evan lingered near the entryway, letting the heat from the fireplace soak into his cold, aching fingers. His bag rested on the floor by his feet, the snow on its edges melting into small puddles. He wanted to say something, to break the heavy silence that had settled between him and Logan, but nothing came to mind. The man’s presence was… intimidating, though not in an overtly hostile way. It was his quietness, the way his movements were deliberate, his words clipped and efficient. Logan felt like someone who didn’t waste energy on things he deemed unnecessary—like small talk.

Logan straightened, setting the fireplace poker aside and brushing his hands together to dust off the ash. He glanced at Evan, his expression unreadable, before nodding toward the room. “You can drop your stuff over there,” he said, gesturing toward the small hallway that split off from the main living area. “Spare room’s at the end. Bathroom’s across from it.”

Evan hesitated, gripping the strap of his bag tighter. “Thanks,” he said quietly, picking it up and stepping further into the cabin. He noticed the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots, the sound oddly loud in the quiet space.

Logan didn’t follow him, instead heading toward the kitchen. Evan glanced over his shoulder, watching as Logan moved with the same casual confidence, pulling a kettle off the stovetop and filling it with water. He turned back toward the hallway and found the spare room easily.

The room was simple, small but cozy, with a twin bed pushed against the far wall and a narrow window that overlooked the snow-covered woods outside. A thick, worn quilt lay folded at the foot of the bed, and a small wooden nightstand held a single lamp. Evan dropped his bag onto the bed and sat down beside it, exhaling slowly.

He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the wall opposite him. The awkwardness of the situation pressed heavily on his chest. He hadn’t exactly been expecting a warm welcome, but Logan’s cool demeanor made him feel even more out of place than he already did.

This is temporary, Evan reminded himself. Just until the storm clears.



When Evan reentered the main room, Logan was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. The kettle on the stovetop began to whistle, and Logan moved to take it off the heat, pouring the steaming water into two mugs. The smell of tea drifted through the air—something herbal, earthy. Logan slid one of the mugs across the counter toward Evan without a word.

Evan hesitated, then stepped forward to take it. The mug was warm in his hands, the heat seeping into his skin and chasing away the last of the cold. “Thanks,” he said, his voice soft.

Logan nodded but didn’t reply. He sipped from his own mug, his gaze drifting toward the window. The storm outside was getting worse—the wind howled against the cabin, and the snow swirled in thick, blinding sheets. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sounds the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional whistle of the wind.

“So,” Evan said finally, breaking the silence. “Is this... your place? Or do you just stay here sometimes?”

Logan glanced at him, his expression neutral. “Belongs to my family. I come up here when I need space.”

Evan nodded, taking a sip of tea. It was strong and slightly bitter, the kind of flavor that seemed to settle in your chest and spread warmth through your limbs. “It’s nice,” he said, glancing around the room. “Quiet.”

Logan’s mouth twitched in what might have been a faint smile. “That’s the point.”

Evan shifted on his feet, unsure of what else to say. The silence felt heavier this time, though it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Logan didn’t seem to mind it—he looked perfectly at ease, standing there with his mug in one hand and his gaze fixed on the storm outside.

“Sorry if I... interrupted anything,” Evan said after a moment. “I didn’t realize anyone would be here.”

Logan shrugged, setting his mug down on the counter. “Doesn’t matter. You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” Evan pressed, “I don’t want to—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Logan interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re here now. Storm’s not going to let up anytime soon, so you might as well get comfortable.”

Evan nodded, though the thought of “getting comfortable” in a stranger’s cabin felt easier said than done. He looked down at his mug, running his thumb along the edge. “Thanks,” he said again, quieter this time.

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned against the counter, studying Evan with those sharp, unreadable eyes. There was something almost unnerving about the way he looked at him—like he was trying to figure him out, to understand something about him that Evan couldn’t quite grasp himself.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” Logan said finally, his voice low.

Evan blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Used to what?”

Logan gestured vaguely around the cabin. “This. Being out here. Away from... everything.”

Evan hesitated, unsure how to answer. “Not really,” he admitted. “I’ve lived in the same town my whole life. This is... new.”

Logan nodded, as though he’d expected that response. “You’ll get used to it,” he said simply.

Evan wanted to ask what Logan meant by that, but before he could, Logan straightened, moving toward the fireplace. He grabbed the poker and adjusted the logs, the fire flaring briefly before settling again. His movements were slow, deliberate, and Evan found himself watching without meaning to.

“Where’d you come from?” Logan asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Evan blinked, startled by the question. “What?”

“You said your friend sent you here,” Logan said, glancing over his shoulder. “Where’s home?”

“Oh.” Evan shifted awkwardly. “Just... a small town a couple hours from here. Nothing special.”

Logan nodded, turning back to the fire. “Figured as much.”

Evan frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he set the poker down and leaned one arm on the mantle, his gaze fixed on the flames. “You don’t seem like the type to do this kind of thing voluntarily,” he said finally. “Driving up to the mountains alone in the middle of winter.”

Evan felt his cheeks heat, though he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or frustration. “Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. “Connor practically shoved me out the door.”

Logan glanced at him again, his expression softening slightly. “Good friend.”

“Yeah,” Evan muttered, looking down at his mug. “He is.”

Logan gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before turning back to the fire. The light from the flames cast warm shadows across his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. For a moment, Evan allowed himself to study him—Logan’s quiet intensity, the way he carried himself with a kind of effortless confidence that Evan couldn’t quite understand.

Logan didn’t seem like the type of guy who smiled often, and yet there was something strangely calming about his presence. Aloof but not hostile. Cold but not entirely unwelcoming.

“So,” Evan said after a long pause, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Do you spend a lot of time up here?”

Logan glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much I need to get away,” Logan replied simply. He straightened from where he’d been leaning against the mantle and walked back toward the kitchen. The way he moved was deliberate, purposeful, like every step was measured.

Evan watched him pour more tea into his mug, noticing the slight crease between Logan’s brows as though his thoughts were elsewhere. “What about you?” Logan asked, not looking up. “Why’d your friend send you all the way out here?”

Evan hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share, especially with someone who barely looked at him when they talked. “I guess he thought I needed a break,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “It’s been a... rough couple of months.”

Logan nodded, but he didn’t press. He took another sip of tea and leaned back against the counter, his sharp eyes briefly meeting Evan’s. “Sometimes a break’s what you need,” he said, his tone softer than before.

Evan offered a small, tight smile, though he wasn’t sure Logan could see it from where he stood. The quiet returned, stretching between them like a thin thread.

“Do you—” Evan started, then stopped, unsure if he should finish the question.

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Do you ever get sick of it?” Evan asked, motioning toward the window. “The quiet. The isolation.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, considering the question. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But it’s better than the alternative.”

Evan frowned. “What’s the alternative?”

Logan’s gaze flicked to him, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. “Noise,” he said simply. “Distractions. People who don’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

Evan couldn’t help but smile faintly at that, though he quickly hid it behind his mug. “Guess I’m lucky you didn’t slam the door in my face, then.”

Logan’s lips twitched—just barely—as though he was fighting back a smirk. “Guess you are.”

For the first time since Evan arrived, the tension between them seemed to ease, if only slightly. Logan didn’t say anything else, and Evan didn’t push. They finished their tea in relative silence, the crackle of the fire and the howling wind outside filling the gaps.
______

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[WrittenMuseum]

A Night Alone

By the time the storm began to settle, night had fallen. The cabin was warm and quiet, the fire casting a soft orange glow that reached into the corners of the room. Logan had disappeared into his own space a while ago, leaving Evan to explore the cabin on his own.

The bookshelves in the living room caught his attention first. They were filled with an eclectic mix of titles—everything from weathered classics to glossy coffee table books on wilderness survival. A few framed photos were scattered among them, though Evan didn’t linger on those.

He eventually settled on the couch, pulling the quilt from the backrest over his lap. He tried to focus on the poetry book he’d brought, but the words blurred together, his mind too restless to concentrate. His thoughts kept circling back to Logan—the way he’d spoken so matter-of-factly about isolation, as though it was something he craved rather than endured.

Evan couldn’t understand it. He’d spent the past two months drowning in his own thoughts, desperate for distraction, for company. The idea of willingly choosing solitude was foreign to him, and yet... Logan didn’t seem unhappy. Lonely, maybe, but not unhappy.

The faint creak of a floorboard pulled Evan from his thoughts. He looked up just as Logan appeared in the doorway, his broad frame backlit by the soft glow of a light behind him. He was holding a stack of folded blankets, which he set down on the armchair nearest the fire.

“Figured you’d need these,” Logan said, his tone as clipped as ever.

Evan nodded, setting the book aside. “Thanks.”

Logan didn’t respond, but he lingered near the fireplace, adjusting one of the logs with the poker. The silence between them stretched again, though this time it felt less heavy, more... familiar.

“You know,” Evan said suddenly, surprising himself. “You’re not as grumpy as you seem.”

Logan stilled, the poker pausing mid-air before he set it down with a quiet clink. He turned to face Evan, one brow raised. “Grumpy?”

Evan shrugged, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “A little. But not in a bad way.”

Logan stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Evan’s surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Logan said dryly.

Evan chuckled softly, pulling the quilt tighter around himself. “It was meant to be.”

Logan didn’t reply, but he didn’t leave, either. He leaned one arm against the mantle, his gaze drifting back to the fire. For a while, they stayed like that—neither speaking, neither needing to. The warmth of the cabin and the steady crackle of the flames wrapped around them like a cocoon, and for the first time in weeks, Evan felt his chest loosen, the ache in his heart easing just a little.

Evan stirred early the next morning, the faint light of dawn slipping through the window of the spare room. The storm had calmed overnight, leaving the world outside coated in a thick, undisturbed layer of white. He stretched beneath the heavy quilt, his body reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed.

For a moment, he just lay there, listening to the quiet. It was a different kind of silence than he was used to—not the emptiness of his apartment, but something softer, more peaceful. The faint creak of the cabin settling, the distant rustle of the trees outside—it all felt strangely grounding.

When he finally got up, the floorboards were cold beneath his socks, and he quickly pulled on the thick sweater he’d packed. He ran a hand through his messy hair, glancing at the small mirror above the dresser. His reflection stared back at him, a little pale, a little tired, but not as hollow as he’d felt the night before.

The smell of coffee drew him into the main room, where Logan was already up, standing near the counter with a steaming mug in his hand. He was dressed much the same as he had been the day before—flannel shirt, jeans, the sleeves rolled up slightly to reveal strong forearms. His hair was still slightly tousled, and there was a faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.

Evan hesitated in the doorway, unsure if he should say anything. Logan glanced up, his sharp blue eyes flicking to him briefly before he nodded toward the coffee pot on the counter. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Evan said quietly, moving toward the kitchen. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a cup, the rich aroma filling the air. He took a cautious sip, letting the warmth spread through him, before leaning back against the counter.

Logan was quiet, his attention focused on the window, where the early morning light filtered through the frost-covered glass. Evan followed his gaze, his eyes tracing the outline of the snow-covered trees outside.

“It’s beautiful,” Evan said softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his expression shifted slightly. “Yeah,” he said eventually, his tone thoughtful. “It is.”

They stood there in silence for a while, the shared quiet somehow less awkward than it had been the day before. Logan seemed more at ease in the mornings, his usual guardedness softened by the stillness of the cabin.

“You sleep okay?” Logan asked finally, breaking the silence.

Evan nodded, surprised by the question. “Yeah. Better than I expected.”

Logan smirked faintly. “That spare bed’s older than I am. Thought it might give you trouble.”

Evan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It was fine. Comfortable enough.”

Logan sipped his coffee, his gaze flicking back to the window. “Storm’s cleared up,” he said, almost to himself. “Roads’ll still be bad, though.”

Evan hesitated, unsure if that was a hint. “Do you need me to head out?”

Logan glanced at him, his brow furrowing slightly. “Not in this,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’d end up in a ditch before you got halfway down the mountain.”

Evan nodded, relief and awkwardness mingling in his chest. “Guess I’m sticking around a little longer, then.”

“Looks that way,” Logan said simply, finishing his coffee and setting the mug down on the counter. “There’s more wood to split if you want to help later.”

Evan blinked, caught off guard. “You mean... like chopping wood?”

Logan’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Yeah. That’s usually how it’s done.”

Evan couldn’t help but laugh lightly, though the idea of swinging an axe in the freezing cold wasn’t exactly appealing. Still, there was something oddly reassuring about the way Logan said it—like it was a normal part of the day, something steady and productive to focus on.

“Sure,” Evan said finally, setting his mug down. “Why not?”



Out in the Cold

The air outside was sharp and biting, the kind of cold that seemed to sink straight into your bones. Evan wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, watching as Logan grabbed the axe from the woodpile. The man moved with the same quiet efficiency he’d shown inside, his motions steady and purposeful.

“You ever done this before?” Logan asked, glancing at Evan over his shoulder.

Evan shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Not exactly a regular part of life in town.”

Logan smirked faintly, handing him a pair of thick gloves. “Figured. Watch first.”

Evan nodded, stepping back as Logan positioned a thick log on the chopping block. He gripped the axe firmly, raising it with practiced ease before bringing it down in a smooth, powerful motion. The log split cleanly, the sharp crack echoing through the trees.

“Your turn,” Logan said, stepping aside and handing Evan the axe.

Evan hesitated, eyeing the block nervously. “What if I miss?”

“Don’t,” Logan said simply, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Evan huffed a laugh, gripping the axe as Logan had shown him. The weight of it felt unfamiliar in his hands, but he stepped forward, doing his best to mimic Logan’s stance. He swung the axe, and the blade struck the edge of the log, sending it tumbling off the block but leaving it otherwise intact.

Logan snorted softly. “Not bad for a first try.”

“Not bad?” Evan shot him a look, though he couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t even split it.”

“You didn’t hit your foot, either,” Logan said, his tone dry. “That’s a win.”

Evan laughed, shaking his head. He repositioned the log and tried again, this time managing to split it—though not as cleanly as Logan had. He stepped back, wiping his brow despite the cold, and handed the axe back.

Logan took it without a word, setting another log on the block. He worked quickly, each swing precise, until the pile of split wood had grown considerably. Evan watched him, noting the way Logan’s muscles flexed beneath his flannel, the ease with which he handled the axe. There was something almost meditative about it, the steady rhythm of work in the quiet morning.

When Logan finally set the axe aside, he turned to Evan, his breath visible in the cold air. “Not bad,” he said again, though this time there was a hint of genuine approval in his tone.

“Thanks,” Evan said, feeling a small swell of pride despite himself. “I’ll add it to my résumé.”

Logan smirked faintly, but didn’t reply. Instead, he nodded toward the cabin. “Come on. You earned yourself another cup of coffee.”

Evan followed him back inside, the warmth of the cabin hitting him like a wave as they stepped through the door. Logan moved toward the kitchen without a word, and Evan found himself smiling softly, the lingering awkwardness between them beginning to melt away like the snow on their boots.

The day passed slowly, the storm’s aftermath leaving the cabin wrapped in an almost serene silence. By late afternoon, the light streaming through the windows had softened, casting golden streaks over the wooden floors. The air outside was calm now, the blizzard’s fury replaced by the quiet beauty of a snow-covered world.

Evan sat on the couch, a book open on his lap, though he hadn’t turned a page in at least ten minutes. The warmth of the fire and the lingering fatigue from chopping wood had left him in a comfortable daze. He glanced up when he heard Logan’s footsteps, the man appearing from the hallway with his coat slung over one shoulder.

“Storm’s cleared,” Logan said, his voice low but carrying easily. “Roads are still messy, but they’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Evan nodded, unsure how to respond. He hadn’t brought up leaving yet, partly because he wasn’t sure how to. The idea of driving back down the mountain wasn’t exactly appealing, but neither was overstaying his welcome.

“You ever been to the festival in town?” Logan asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Evan blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Festival?”

Logan leaned against the arm of the couch, his blue eyes steady on Evan. “Christmas festival. Nearest town’s got one every year. Small, but decent enough.”

Evan shook his head. “No, I’ve never been. Didn’t even know it was a thing.”

Logan’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Figured as much. Want to go?”

The question hung in the air between them, surprising Evan more than it probably should have. Logan didn’t seem like the type to suggest outings, especially not something as… festive as a Christmas festival. And yet, there was an ease in the way he asked, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Sure,” Evan said after a moment, closing his book and setting it aside. “Why not?”

Logan nodded, pushing off the couch. “Dress warm. It’ll get colder when the sun goes down.”

 

[WrittenMuseum]

The Festival

The drive into town was quiet, the snow-covered trees lining the winding road like something out of a postcard. Logan didn’t talk much, his focus on navigating the icy curves, but the silence felt comfortable rather than awkward. The radio played softly in the background—a local station broadcasting a mix of holiday songs and weather updates.

When they arrived, the town square was already bustling with activity. Strings of warm lights crisscrossed above the streets, their glow reflecting off the snow and casting the scene in a golden hue. Booths lined the edges of the square, selling everything from handmade ornaments to steaming cups of cider. A tall Christmas tree stood in the center, its branches heavy with colorful decorations, and the faint sound of carolers drifted through the air.

Evan stepped out of the truck, the crisp evening air nipping at his cheeks. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, glancing around as Logan came to stand beside him.

“This is… a lot,” Evan said, his tone more curious than critical.

Logan shrugged. “Small-town tradition. Happens every year.”

“You sound thrilled,” Evan teased, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Logan shot him a look, though there was no real bite to it. “Not exactly my scene,” he admitted, starting toward the square. “But it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

Evan followed, his boots crunching in the snow. The crowd was a mix of families, couples, and groups of friends, all bundled up against the cold. The smell of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider filled the air, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of snow.

They wandered through the booths, stopping occasionally to glance at the wares on display. Logan seemed content to let Evan lead the way, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as he followed at a leisurely pace.

“Hot cider?” Evan asked, nodding toward a booth where a woman was ladling steaming liquid into paper cups.

Logan hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Evan handed the vendor a few bills and passed one of the cups to Logan. The heat seeped through the paper, warming his hands as they continued walking. The cider was sweet and tangy, with just the right amount of spice. Evan took a sip, savoring the warmth as it spread through him.

“This is good,” he said, glancing at Logan.

Logan hummed in agreement, though he didn’t say much. His gaze seemed to wander, taking in the crowd and the lights. There was a faint crease between his brows, as if he were deep in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” Evan asked, his tone light.

Logan glanced at him, one brow arching slightly. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Only when I don’t get a lot of answers,” Evan shot back, smirking.

Logan’s lips twitched, almost a smile, and he took another sip of his cider. “Not much to say,” he said finally. “Just… a lot of people.”

Evan nodded, though he couldn’t quite tell if that was an observation or a complaint. He looked around, his gaze landing on a group of kids laughing as they tried to catch snowflakes on their tongues. The scene felt strangely nostalgic, though he couldn’t quite place why.

“Over here,” Logan said suddenly, nodding toward a quieter corner of the square where a small ice-sculpture display was set up. The sculptures glittered in the light, their intricate details catching the eye.

Evan stepped closer, marveling at the craftsmanship. “These are incredible.”

Logan stood beside him, his expression softening slightly as he studied the sculptures. “Takes a lot of patience to do something like this.”

“Patience,” Evan repeated, glancing at Logan. “Not your strong suit?”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, though he didn’t reply. Instead, he nodded toward one of the sculptures—a reindeer, its antlers delicately carved and glinting with frost. “That one’s new. Don’t remember seeing it last year.”

“You’ve been here before?” Evan asked, surprised.

Logan shrugged. “Once or twice. Usually passing through.”

Evan nodded, turning his attention back to the display. The reindeer was beautiful, its eyes detailed enough to look almost lifelike. He wondered how long it had taken to create something so intricate, so fragile.

“You seem... different here,” Evan said after a moment, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Logan glanced at him, his brows furrowing slightly. “Different how?”

Evan hesitated, unsure how to explain. “I don’t know. Less... closed off, maybe.”

Logan’s expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze softened. He looked away, his attention shifting back to the sculptures. “Maybe it’s just the cider,” he said lightly, though his tone carried a hint of something deeper.

Evan smiled faintly, though he didn’t press further. They stood there for a while longer, the crowd fading into the background as the quiet between them grew less heavy, less awkward. For the first time since he’d arrived at the cabin, Evan felt like he could breathe.

The evening air was colder now, the soft hum of voices and distant laughter filling the space between Evan and Logan as they stood near the ice-sculpture display. The reindeer glistened under the lights, its delicate antlers catching the faint glow of the festival lamps. Evan wrapped his hands around his cider cup, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

Logan had fallen silent again, his attention drifting toward the crowd. He had a way of slipping into quiet observation, his sharp eyes scanning the world around him as though trying to piece something together. Evan wondered what went on in his head—what kind of thoughts lived behind that cool, reserved demeanor.

Evan reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone almost without thinking. He unlocked it with a quick swipe, his thumb hesitating over the gallery icon. Before he could stop himself, he tapped it.

The first photo in the gallery was one he’d forgotten was there—a picture of Mia, her hair catching the sunlight as she laughed at something just out of frame. It was from last summer, the two of them sitting on the grass during the town fair. She’d insisted on taking the photo, holding the phone up and snapping it before he could protest.

Evan stared at the screen, the faint ache in his chest returning. Her smile was so vivid, so full of life. It felt strange to look at her now, knowing how things had ended. The fights, the distance, the way they’d slowly unraveled until there was nothing left to hold onto.

“You good?”

Logan’s voice broke through Evan’s thoughts, and he quickly locked the screen, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah,” Evan said, his voice tight. “Just... checking the time.”

Logan didn’t look convinced, his sharp gaze lingering on Evan for a moment longer. But he didn’t push. Instead, he glanced back at the crowd, taking another sip of his cider.

Evan sighed softly, his breath visible in the cold air. He wasn’t sure why he’d pulled up the photo in the first place. It wasn’t like it made anything better. If anything, it just reminded him of everything he was trying to forget.

“You seem... distracted,” Logan said, his tone careful.

Evan hesitated, his fingers tightening around the cup. “It’s nothing,” he said after a moment, though the words felt hollow.

Logan didn’t reply right away. Instead, he leaned against the small railing near the sculptures, his posture relaxed but his eyes still sharp. “You’re not great at lying,” he said finally, his tone light but not unkind.

Evan huffed a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess not.”

They fell into silence again, the noise of the festival fading into the background. Evan stared down at his cider, the steam curling lazily into the cold air.

“Is it about her?” Logan asked, his voice softer now.

Evan glanced at him, startled. “What?”

Logan shrugged, his gaze steady but not intrusive. “Your ex. The one your friend sent you here to forget.”

Evan blinked, his chest tightening. “How did you—”

“Doesn’t take a genius,” Logan interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’ve got that look.”

Evan frowned. “What look?”

Logan’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “The one people get when they’re carrying something they don’t know how to put down.”

Evan didn’t respond right away, his fingers tightening around the cup. He wanted to argue, to brush it off, but Logan’s words struck too close to the truth.

“Yeah,” Evan said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about her.”

Logan nodded, as though he’d expected that answer. He didn’t say anything else, giving Evan the space to continue if he wanted to.

Evan hesitated, unsure if he should. But something about Logan’s presence—the quiet way he listened, the lack of judgment in his eyes—made it easier to speak.

“We were together for three years,” Evan said quietly, his gaze fixed on the ground. “I thought we had it figured out. But... we didn’t. Things started falling apart, and by the end, it was like we didn’t even know each other anymore.”

Logan nodded again, his expression unreadable. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Evan muttered, exhaling slowly. “It is.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, as though saying the words had lifted some of the weight from Evan’s chest. Logan didn’t press for more, didn’t offer platitudes or empty reassurances. He just stood there, solid and steady, his presence grounding in a way Evan hadn’t expected.

“Anyway,” Evan said, clearing his throat and straightening. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

Logan smirked faintly. “You didn’t. Just telling the truth.”

Evan smiled, a small, genuine curve of his lips. “Guess I’m not great at hiding that, either.”

“Nope,” Logan said, his tone teasing.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Evan felt a flicker of warmth that wasn’t tied to nostalgia or regret. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there—a tiny spark of something new.

Evan fell silent after his small confession, his gaze drifting toward the snow-covered town square. He hadn’t meant to open up so much—especially to someone like Logan, who seemed to keep his own emotions tightly locked away. And yet, it hadn’t felt awkward. If anything, Logan’s steady presence made it easier, like speaking to someone who wouldn’t offer empty advice or pity.

Logan shifted beside him, leaning slightly on the railing. His hands rested loosely in his coat pockets, his breath visible in soft puffs against the cold air. “You’re not the only one who needed space,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter than usual.

Evan turned toward him, startled by the unexpected admission. “What do you mean?”

Logan’s gaze stayed fixed on the sculptures for a long moment, his sharp features cast in soft shadows by the glow of the festival lights. When he finally spoke, his tone was calm, matter-of-fact, but there was a weight to his words that hadn’t been there before.

“I grew up not far from here,” Logan said. “Small town. Tight-knit. One of those places where everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

Evan nodded slowly, not wanting to interrupt.

“My dad built the cabin,” Logan continued. “Used to bring us up here during the summers. Fishing, hiking, all that. It was... simpler then.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as though he were sifting through a memory he wasn’t sure he wanted to share. “Things got complicated after he died.”

Evan’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Logan shrugged, though the motion lacked its usual nonchalance. “It was a long time ago. But when he was gone... it was just me and my mom. She worked two jobs to keep things going, but no matter how hard she tried, people couldn’t help but stick their noses where they didn’t belong.”

Evan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Logan glanced at him, his expression guarded. “Small towns have long memories. People love to gossip. My dad... wasn’t exactly a saint.”

Evan waited, sensing there was more to the story. Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening briefly before he continued.

“He had a temper,” Logan said finally, his voice low. “A bad one. It wasn’t a secret. And when he was gone, people started talking about it more—whispering, judging. Like my mom wasn’t already carrying enough.”

Evan swallowed, unsure what to say. He couldn’t imagine growing up under that kind of scrutiny, especially with the added weight of grief.

“That’s why I like it up here,” Logan said, his tone softening. “It’s quiet. No one to look at you like they know your life better than you do.”

Evan nodded, his chest aching at the faint vulnerability in Logan’s voice. “It sounds... peaceful,” he said quietly.

Logan’s lips twitched faintly, almost a smile. “It is. But it gets lonely sometimes.”

The admission caught Evan off guard. Logan didn’t seem like the type to acknowledge loneliness, let alone admit to it out loud. But there it was—simple, unembellished, and honest.

Evan hesitated, then said, “I guess we’re both figuring it out, huh?”

Logan glanced at him, his sharp blue eyes softening slightly. “Guess so.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the quiet between them more comfortable now. Evan’s mind drifted back to what Logan had said earlier—that he came to the cabin when he needed space. He could see why. There was something about this place, about the snow and the stillness, that made it easier to breathe.

“Thanks,” Evan said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For listening,” Evan said, meeting Logan’s gaze. “And for... sharing. You didn’t have to.”

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, though it wasn’t unkind. “Don’t get used to it.”

Evan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Noted.”

The sound of laughter and music from the festival floated toward them, mingling with the crisp night air. Logan straightened from the railing, finishing the last of his cider and tossing the cup into a nearby bin.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the booths. “There’s a stand over there that does fire-roasted marshmallows. You’ll want to try them.”

Evan smiled, following Logan as they made their way back toward the heart of the festival. The warmth of the lights and the lively energy of the crowd surrounded them, but for the first time in a long while, Evan didn’t feel out of place.

He glanced at Logan as they walked, taking in the man’s easy stride and the way his sharp features softened slightly in the glow of the Christmas lights. There was still so much he didn’t know about Logan, so much left unspoken. But for now, it was enough.

The festival seemed to glow brighter as the evening wore on, the small town square bustling with activity. Families laughed together as they posed for photos near the towering Christmas tree, and children darted between booths with candy canes in hand, their cheeks flushed from the cold. The air was filled with the mingling scents of roasting chestnuts, hot cocoa, and pine, creating an atmosphere that felt almost magical.

Evan followed Logan through the crowd, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he took in the sights. Despite himself, he felt a small smile tugging at his lips. There was something oddly comforting about being here, surrounded by the hum of life and warmth.

Logan, walking a step ahead, seemed more relaxed than Evan had seen him so far. He moved with the same quiet confidence, but his usual guardedness had softened. He paused occasionally to glance at a booth or nod in acknowledgment to a passing vendor, his sharp blue eyes taking in everything without giving too much away.

Evan watched him, surprised by how quickly his perception of Logan had shifted. The man was still something of a mystery—cool and distant, with a past he only hinted at—but there was a steadiness to him that Evan found grounding. It was hard to believe they’d only met the day before.

They stopped near a booth selling handmade ornaments, the delicate glass baubles catching the light in a way that made them shimmer like tiny stars. Logan picked one up—a simple, clear sphere etched with the silhouette of a reindeer—and turned it over in his hand, studying it with quiet interest.

“You picking that up for someone?” Evan asked, his tone teasing.

Logan smirked faintly but didn’t look away from the ornament. “Maybe.”

“Let me guess,” Evan continued. “Big soft spot for Christmas, but you don’t want anyone to know.”

Logan finally glanced at him, one brow arching slightly. “You’re pretty cocky for someone who barely knows me.”

Evan shrugged, grinning. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Logan shook his head, setting the ornament back on the display. “Not a fan of Christmas, actually.”

“Really?” Evan said, surprised. “What’s not to like? Lights, food, awkward family gatherings…”

“Exactly,” Logan said dryly. “The last one ruins it.”

Evan chuckled, though he couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity about what Logan wasn’t saying. He wanted to ask, to press just a little further, but before he could, Logan nodded toward another booth.

“Come on,” he said. “You’ve got to see this.”

_____
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[WrittenMuseum]

The Lanterns

They walked toward the far side of the square, where a small crowd had gathered near a row of tables. The booths here were simpler, less about selling things and more about participating in something. Evan frowned as they approached, watching as people wrote on small slips of paper and handed them to a vendor who tied them to what looked like floating lanterns.

“What’s this?” Evan asked, glancing at Logan.

“Lantern release,” Logan said simply. “You write a wish or a thought—whatever you want—and let it go.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “That sounds... symbolic.”

Logan smirked faintly. “It’s a tradition. Small-town thing.”

Evan hesitated, glancing at the table where stacks of paper and pens were laid out. “Do you do this every year?”

Logan shook his head. “Haven’t been in years. But it’s worth seeing.”

Evan wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he followed Logan to the table anyway. The woman running the booth—a cheerful older lady with a bright scarf wrapped around her neck—smiled warmly at them.

“First-timers?” she asked, handing them each a slip of paper.

“Something like that,” Logan said.

Evan took the paper, running his fingers over its smooth surface. It was small, barely the size of his palm, and blank except for a faint outline of stars along the edges. A pen sat nearby, and he picked it up, staring at the page as his mind raced.

“What do you even write on these?” he asked, glancing at Logan.

“Whatever’s on your mind,” Logan said. His tone was even, but there was something almost... distant about it.

Evan nodded slowly, his gaze dropping back to the paper. He thought of Mia, of the tangled mess of emotions he’d been carrying since they broke up. He thought of Connor, always pushing him to move forward. And then, surprisingly, he thought of Logan—his quiet steadiness, the way he seemed both distant and present at the same time.

He wrote quickly, not giving himself time to second-guess, and handed the slip to the woman at the booth. She tied it carefully to the string of a lantern and passed it back to him with a smile.

Logan did the same, though his movements were slower, more deliberate. His expression gave nothing away as he handed the slip over, and Evan couldn’t help but wonder what he’d written.

They stepped back into the crowd, holding their lanterns as the others around them did the same. A bell chimed softly, signaling the start of the release, and the first lanterns began to rise into the sky.

Evan tilted his head back, watching as the glowing lights floated upward, their warm glow stark against the deep blue of the night. It was beautiful, the kind of moment that felt fleeting and timeless all at once.

“Impressive, huh?” Logan said, his voice low.

Evan glanced at him, surprised to see a faint softness in his expression. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It really is.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, their eyes fixed on the lanterns as they rose higher and higher. Evan felt a strange mix of emotions—a lingering sadness for what he’d lost, but also a faint, unfamiliar warmth.

He looked at Logan again, the man’s face illuminated by the golden light of the lanterns. There was something unguarded about him now, something that made Evan’s chest tighten in a way he didn’t fully understand.

“It’s weird,” Evan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Logan glanced at him, his brow furrowing slightly. “What is?”

“That I’ve only known you for a day,” Evan admitted, “but I feel like... I don’t know. Like I get you.”

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks, though his eyes held something deeper. “Guess you’re not as bad at reading people as I thought.”

Evan laughed softly, his breath visible in the cold air. “Guess not.”

They stood there for a while longer, the lanterns drifting higher until they were little more than specks of light against the dark sky. For the first time in weeks, Evan felt like he wasn’t weighed down by the past—like he could just exist, in this moment, with someone who didn’t expect anything from him.

The glow of the lanterns faded into the distance, leaving the two of them standing together in the quiet aftermath of the moment. The square was still alive with activity—children laughing, couples huddling close, the faint melody of Christmas carols floating through the air—but for Evan, the noise seemed to blur into the background. His focus was on Logan, on the quiet man who seemed to command his attention without even trying.

Logan shifted slightly, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as he glanced at Evan. “You good?”

The question was simple, but the way Logan asked it felt different—less like idle small talk and more like he actually cared about the answer.

“Yeah,” Evan said softly. “I’m good.”

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back toward the booths. The faint light from the festival lamps cast warm shadows across his features, softening the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. He seemed more at ease now, the usual tension in his shoulders gone.

Evan hesitated, then took a step closer. “You know,” he said, his voice light, “you’re not as grumpy as you like to pretend.”

Logan’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “And you’re not as quiet as you look.”

Evan laughed, the sound escaping before he could stop it. “Touché.”

They began walking again, weaving through the crowd with no real destination. The air between them felt lighter now, the earlier awkwardness replaced by something easier, more natural. Evan found himself glancing at Logan more often, watching the way his eyes flicked toward the lights, the way his lips quirked slightly whenever he passed something that seemed to amuse him.

At one point, they stopped near a small booth selling hot chocolate, and Logan handed over a couple of bills without a word, passing one of the steaming cups to Evan.

“Thanks,” Evan said, taking it with a small smile.

Logan shrugged, taking a sip from his own cup. “Figured you’d need it. You look like you’re freezing.”

Evan chuckled, though he couldn’t deny the warmth was a welcome relief. They found a quiet spot near the edge of the square, where a bench sat partially covered in snow. Logan brushed off a section with his glove and sat down, nodding for Evan to do the same.

The view from here was beautiful. The entire square stretched out before them, the Christmas tree at the center glowing brightly against the night sky. The crowd moved like a living painting, vibrant and full of life, but their little corner felt peaceful, almost private.

“This is nice,” Evan said after a moment, his voice soft.

Logan glanced at him, one brow raising slightly. “The festival?”

“The whole thing,” Evan said, gesturing vaguely. “Being here. The quiet. You.”

Logan froze briefly, his gaze locking on Evan. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his sharp blue eyes searching Evan’s face as though trying to read something there.

Evan felt his cheeks heat, but he didn’t look away. He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to say it, but now that the words were out, he didn’t regret them.

Logan finally smirked, though it was softer this time. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Evan laughed, shaking his head. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since I got here.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Logan said, though his tone was teasing.

The quiet between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Evan sipped his hot chocolate, his thoughts swirling. He’d only known Logan for a day—barely that—but something about him felt... steady. Like the storm outside, the chaos of his own mind, didn’t matter when Logan was around.

“You don’t let people in easily, do you?” Evan asked suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Logan glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “What makes you say that?”

Evan shrugged, his fingers tightening slightly around the cup. “Just a feeling. You’re... careful. About everything.”

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared out at the square, his jaw tightening slightly. “Careful’s not a bad thing,” he said finally, his voice low.

“I didn’t say it was,” Evan said quickly. “I just... I get it. It’s easier to keep people at arm’s length. Safer.”

Logan’s eyes flicked back to him, sharp but not unkind. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Evan huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, the faint sound of carolers drifting toward them. The air was cold, but the warmth of Logan’s presence made it bearable. Evan found himself leaning slightly closer, drawn in by something he couldn’t quite name.

“You’re a good guy, Logan,” he said softly, the words barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips curved into the faintest smile, but he didn’t look at Evan. “You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not,” Evan admitted. “But I think I’m starting to.”

Logan finally turned toward him, his gaze steady. The space between them felt smaller now, the noise of the festival fading into the background. For a moment, it was just the two of them, the air thick with something unspoken.

“You’re not what I expected,” Logan said quietly, his voice almost a murmur.

Evan tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together. “What did you expect?”

Logan’s lips twitched, not quite a smirk but close. “Someone who wouldn’t last a day up here.”

Evan laughed softly, though his heart felt like it was beating just a little faster. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

“Guess you are,” Logan said, his tone almost... fond.

The tension between them lingered, not heavy but electric, like the spark of something just beginning. Evan felt his pulse quicken, but he didn’t move, didn’t look away.

The carolers’ voices swelled in the background, their song drifting through the crisp night air. Logan’s gaze held steady, and for the first time in a long while, Evan didn’t feel out of place—he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The drive back to the cabin was quieter than the journey to the festival, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. The snow had stopped completely, leaving the world outside glittering under the pale light of the moon. Logan drove with his usual focus, his hands steady on the wheel, while Evan sat beside him, his thoughts still tangled in the moments they’d shared at the festival.

Evan caught himself stealing glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye. There was something calming about the man’s presence—something that made the lingering ache in Evan’s chest feel just a little less sharp. He shifted in his seat, the warmth of the truck’s heater seeping into his skin as they turned onto the winding road that led back to the cabin.

When they arrived, Logan parked the truck in the small driveway, the crunch of tires on snow breaking the stillness of the night. They stepped out into the crisp air, their boots crunching softly as they made their way inside. The cabin was just as warm and inviting as they’d left it, the faint scent of wood smoke lingering in the air.

Logan shrugged off his coat, hanging it by the door before glancing at Evan. “I’m gonna hit the shower,” he said simply, his voice low and even.

Evan nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned toward the couch. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

Logan disappeared down the hall, his footsteps fading as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

 

[Tiddles62]

Hope we get to read some more of this...

 

[Tphilatl]

I hope you post the whole story on here.

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Hope we get to read some more of this...

I can ensure you i will gradually post here more! and this series gonna be long series and unfold! Thanks for support! (But if you wanna support me and read full vol1 now you can support me on amazon kdp haha) Btw, thank you so much for reading and im very happy you enjoy this!

 

[WrittenMuseum]

I hope you post the whole story on here.

Thank you for reading! love! Im very appreciate it and i will post it here gradually too!

 

[WrittenMuseum]

full volumn 1 book : this volumn 1 ! link
more on Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Hope we get to read some more of this...

The Shower



The bathroom was warm and steamy, the faint hum of the water heater filling the air as Logan turned the faucet, letting the hot water run. He pulled his flannel shirt over his head, tossing it onto the counter before kicking off his boots. His jeans followed, leaving him in nothing but his briefs as he caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror above the sink.

His reflection stared back at him, sharp blue eyes shadowed slightly by the dim light. His body was lean and strong, the product of years spent working outdoors, but there was a tightness in his chest he couldn’t seem to shake—a lingering warmth that had followed him home from the festival.

With a sigh, Logan hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, sliding them down and stepping out of them. His semi-hard cock swayed slightly as he moved, brushing briefly against his thigh. He ignored it, stepping into the shower and letting the hot water pour over him, the steam wrapping around his body.

Evan’s face flashed in his mind almost immediately—his laugh, the way his eyes softened during the lantern release, the playful lilt in his voice when he teased Logan. Logan exhaled sharply, leaning forward to brace his hands against the cool tile wall. The water cascaded over his shoulders and back, but it did little to quiet his thoughts.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered, though his voice was swallowed by the steady stream of water.

His mind betrayed him, lingering on every detail of Evan—the curve of his smile, the way he carried himself with a mix of vulnerability and confidence that Logan couldn’t quite figure out. Heat stirred in his chest, trailing downward, and Logan clenched his jaw as his cock responded, swelling further.

He glanced down, his breath hitching as he saw the length of it—thicker now, the head flushed a deeper shade as it hung heavily between his thighs. His stomach tightened, and he forced himself upright, running a hand through his wet hair.

“This isn’t happening,” Logan muttered, his voice rough. But his body didn’t seem to care about the denial, the faint ache in his cock growing as the thoughts persisted.

He grabbed the soap, lathering it quickly in his hands and running it over his chest, arms, and abs in an attempt to focus on something—anything—else. The slickness of the water and the heat of the shower only seemed to heighten his awareness of himself, his hand brushing against his cock as he washed, sending an unwelcome jolt of sensation through him.

Logan cursed under his breath, stepping directly under the stream to rinse off. His cock twitched again, half-hard and hanging thickly, the faint throbbing a frustrating reminder of how his thoughts had betrayed him. He turned the water hotter, letting it sting against his skin in an effort to clear his head.

Evan’s voice echoed faintly in his mind, unbidden but clear, and Logan gritted his teeth. The softness in the way Evan had said his name, the quiet connection in his eyes—it clung to Logan, refusing to be ignored.

When he finally turned off the water, his cock was still semi-erect, a dull ache lingering as he wrapped a towel firmly around his waist. Steam clung to his skin, curling around him as he faced the mirror. His reflection stared back, droplets of water sliding down his chest and over the sharp line of his jaw.

“Get it together,” he said, his voice steady but low, though the words did little to dispel the pull in his chest. He grabbed his clothes from the counter and stepped out of the bathroom, his damp hair falling messily across his forehead.

Even as he moved through the quiet cabin, the warmth from the shower lingering on his skin, Logan couldn’t shake the thought of Evan’s face—or the quiet heat it brought with it.

Logan stood in the dim hallway, the soft creak of the cabin’s wooden floor beneath his feet breaking the heavy silence. The towel was slung over his shoulder now, his body freshly dried from the heat of the shower, but his mind remained tangled in unwelcome thoughts. He’d pulled on a clean pair of flannel pajama pants, the soft fabric resting low on his hips, but they did little to disguise the persistent ache and fullness between his legs.

He leaned back against the wall, raking a hand through his damp hair, and glanced downward with a glare that was more exasperated than angry. His cock was still stubbornly half-hard, the weight of it pressing against the fabric in a way that made his discomfort impossible to ignore.

“Seriously?” Logan muttered under his breath, his voice rough and edged with frustration. “You’re done, okay? Get down.”

The absurdity of talking to his own dick wasn’t lost on him, but the heat in his chest—and lower—refused to fade. His mind replayed flashes of the evening, unbidden: Evan’s easy smile under the golden glow of the lanterns, the way he’d looked at Logan with that mix of curiosity and quiet admiration. Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head as though the motion could dislodge the images.

“This isn’t happening,” he muttered, his voice low and firm. “You’re not gay. You’re not... whatever the hell this is.”

The words felt hollow even as he said them. He wasn’t used to questioning himself like this, wasn’t used to the way his body seemed to rebel against him. His cock twitched again, and Logan bit back a curse, his jaw tightening as he fought the unfamiliar tension twisting in his gut.

He pushed off the wall, pacing a few steps down the hallway before stopping again, his hand bracing against the doorframe. The cool air of the cabin brushed against his skin, a sharp contrast to the lingering heat in his chest.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he muttered. “It’s just... been a while. That’s all. Anyone would—”

But the words caught in his throat, his own excuses sounding ridiculous even to him. The truth was harder to ignore than he wanted to admit: there was something about Evan—something that tugged at Logan in a way that felt both foreign and frustratingly natural.

With a final shake of his head, Logan forced himself to straighten, his shoulders tense as he adjusted the waistband of his pajama pants. His cock was still heavy against his thigh, but he ignored it, pushing the door open and stepping back into the main room of the cabin.

—————
Thanks again for reading!!

full volumn 1 book : this volumn 1 ! link
more on Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum

—-—————

Love this type of erotica and want to support my work?
You can find my full collection on Amazon and enjoy more stories like this. Visit my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum


My novel that already published on KDP
- OMG F*cking life journey vol.1 (long seires, 100+ pages) full book on my KDP!
- Bare to the Bone
- The New Collection : Brandon’s Shame full book (100+pages) on my KDP too! (E-Book)
- The Christmas Spark (New!)

 

[CamBarr]

honestly perfect so far

 

[Red-wood natural]

I can ensure you i will gradually post here more! and this series gonna be long series and unfold! Thanks for support! (But if you wanna support me and read full vol1 now you can support me on amazon kdp haha) Btw, thank you so much for reading and im very happy you enjoy this!

I was so engrossed in the story I wasn't commenting... This story is amazing, longing...

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Thank you so much for reading and your comment! It’s really made my day. Im very appreciate it! Thank you loving this story & Logan & Evan!

 

[WrittenMuseum]

The Main Room

Evan was sprawled on the couch, his long legs stretched out and his back propped up against the armrest. He’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, the soft material clinging to his frame in a way that drew Logan’s eye more than it should have. A steaming mug of cocoa rested on the table beside him, and he glanced up as Logan entered, a faint smile curving his lips.

“Hey,” Evan said easily. “You were in there a while. Thought you fell asleep standing up.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his usual composure slipping into place as he crossed the room. “Takes more than a long shower to knock me out,” he said, his voice steady despite the lingering heat in his chest.

Evan grinned, shifting to sit up straighter as he gestured toward the second mug on the table. “Made you some cocoa. Figured it’d warm you up after all that chopping wood this morning. You know, in case your tough-guy act didn’t keep you warm enough.”

Logan smirked faintly, though he didn’t take the bait. He picked up the mug, the warmth seeping into his hands as he took a sip. The rich, slightly sweet taste filled his mouth, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

“Not bad,” Logan said, nodding toward the mug.

“Not bad?” Evan echoed, feigning offense. “That’s gourmet hot chocolate, I’ll have you know. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head as he leaned against the edge of the table. His sharp blue eyes flicked to Evan briefly, catching the way the younger man’s expression softened as he watched Logan.

Evan tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”

The question caught Logan off guard, his fingers tightening slightly around the mug. “Yeah. Why?”

Evan shrugged, his gaze steady. “You just... seem different. Quieter than usual.”

Logan huffed a laugh, though it lacked its usual edge. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Maybe,” Evan said, though his tone suggested he didn’t entirely believe it.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space between them. Logan stared into his mug, his thoughts still tangled despite his best efforts to push them aside. He could feel Evan’s presence beside him, the quiet warmth of the younger man’s attention both grounding and unsettling in ways Logan couldn’t explain.

Evan leaned back against the couch, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice soft, “you’re not as hard to figure out as you think.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Oh, yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Evan grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just that you’ve got layers. Tough guy on the outside, but underneath...”

“Underneath what?” Logan asked, his tone challenging but not unkind.

Evan’s smile softened, his gaze meeting Logan’s. “Underneath, you’re not so bad.”

Logan stared at him for a moment, his chest tightening as the words sank in. He could feel the tension in the room shift, subtle but unmistakable, the air between them charged with something unspoken.

For the first time in a long while, Logan didn’t know what to say.

The quiet crackle of the fire filled the cabin, mingling with the faint sound of the wind brushing against the windows. Logan had settled into the armchair near the fireplace, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the flames as he nursed the last of his cocoa. The warmth of the room wrapped around them, creating a cocoon of calm that was a welcome contrast to the chill outside.

Evan was on the couch, his legs curled beneath him as he stared at his phone. He wasn’t expecting any messages—most people who cared enough to check on him already knew he’d gone off the grid—but the sudden vibration in his hand made him startle slightly. The screen lit up, and the name Connor flashed across it.

He frowned, glancing at Logan. “I should take this,” he said, his voice low. “It’s my friend. Won’t be long.”

Logan nodded without looking up, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in the chair.

Evan pushed himself off the couch, walking toward the hallway for a semblance of privacy. He answered the call just before it went to voicemail, his tone slightly exasperated. “Connor.”

“Hey, man!” Connor’s cheerful voice boomed through the speaker. “How’s the cabin? Perfect, right? You’re welcome.”

Evan let out a sharp breath, rubbing his temple. “Connor, you didn’t book me a resort or a hotel or whatever you think you did. This is... someone’s family cabin.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Connor laughed, the sound full of disbelief. “What? That’s not possible. I booked it on one of those travel apps—rustic charm, secluded vibe, all that. Looked legit.”

“Well, it’s not,” Evan said firmly, pacing slightly. “It’s private. Like, someone actually lives here. Or at least uses it. The guy who owns it? He’s staying here too.”

Connor’s laugh trailed off into a confused hum. “Wait, wait. Back up. You’re telling me you’re staying in some random guy’s cabin? Who is this guy?”

“His name’s Logan,” Evan said, lowering his voice slightly as he glanced toward the main room. Logan hadn’t moved, still staring at the fire, but Evan couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was listening anyway. “He’s... a person who owns the cabin. He’s letting me stay because of the storm.”

Connor let out a low whistle. “And you’re still there? Jesus, Evan, what if he’s some psycho or—”

“He’s not,” Evan interrupted, his tone firmer than he’d intended. “He’s fine. Quiet. Kind of grumpy, but fine.”

Connor snorted. “Grumpy, huh? Sounds like a real people person.”

Evan couldn’t help but smile faintly, though he shook his head. “He’s not like that. I mean, yeah, he’s a little... reserved. But he’s been decent. He even drove me to town today for the Christmas festival.”

“Festival?” Connor said, his voice laced with surprise. “So, what, you two are best buds now?”

“It’s not like that,” Evan said quickly, though the words felt strange in his mouth. He hesitated, his mind drifting back to Logan—the quiet way he’d listened when Evan had talked about Mia, the sharp but thoughtful glint in his eyes when he’d teased Evan at the festival. “He’s just... I don’t know. Different.”

Connor hummed thoughtfully. “Different how?”

Evan frowned, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know. He’s hard to explain. Keeps to himself a lot, but he’s... solid, I guess? Like, he doesn’t try to fill the silence with useless noise.”

“Wow,” Connor said dryly. “He sounds like a barrel of laughs.”

Evan rolled his eyes, though there was no real heat in it. “He’s not bad, Connor. I mean it. He even let me stay after I told him about your booking mistake. Didn’t have to.”

Connor was quiet for a moment, his voice softer when he finally spoke. “Okay. If you say he’s good, I’ll trust you. But seriously, man, if anything feels off—”

“It’s fine,” Evan said quickly, cutting him off. “Really.”

Connor sighed heavily. “Alright. Fine. But you’ve got to admit, this whole thing’s pretty wild. You’re supposed to be relaxing, and instead you’re... what? Rooming with a grumpy woodsman?”

Evan snorted, unable to help himself. “Something like that.”

“Just don’t let him chop you up and hide you in the woods, alright?” Connor joked, though his tone was only half-playful.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evan said, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

“Good. And hey, if you get bored—or start to lose your mind out there—just call me. We can laugh about it together.”

Evan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Thanks, Connor. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Alright, man. Stay safe. Merry early Christmas, or whatever.”

“You too,” Evan said, ending the call with a small sigh. He stared at his phone for a moment longer before tucking it back into his pocket.

____

—————
Thanks again for reading!!

full volumn 1 book : this volumn 1 ! link
more on Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum

—-—————

Love this type of erotica and want to support my work?
You can find my full collection on Amazon and enjoy more stories like this. Visit my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum
My novel that already published on KDP
- OMG F*cking life journey vol.1 (long seires, 100+ pages) full book on my KDP!
- Bare to the Bone
- The New Collection : Brandon’s Shame full book (100+pages) on my KDP too! (E-Book)
- The Christmas Spark (New!)
- Dick-covery (military camp erotica! New!)

 

[Kimfu]

Well, I read straight through without a break. What a delightful story and the way you weave the imagery throughout makes the story. Just little subtle phrases are so “folksy” in the way you describe actions. I grew up in cooler weather so when you describe the lanterns rising in the air, I had the immediate flash of how that scene really played out. Donned in heavy clothing, gloves, muffler, cap or hoodie up, you must bend your body back in order to look up and watch the lanterns lift skyward. Those few lines captured the reality of the scene perfectly. The entire work is just one captured image after another.

There’s something about Logan. You can sense it from the moment he is introduced. You can’t put your finger on it at first but as his character develops you begin to get subtle hints that he is beginning to blossom. I’m sure you will hit us with it, but only in your drip, drip of hints here and there. Your unique writing style that we have come to appreciate.

Another great piece of writing. Thank you so much for sharing.

 

[WrittenMuseum]

Well, I read straight through without a break. What a delightful story and the way you weave the imagery throughout makes the story. Just little subtle phrases are so “folksy” in the way you describe actions. I grew up in cooler weather so when you describe the lanterns rising in the air, I had the immediate flash of how that scene really played out. Donned in heavy clothing, gloves, muffler, cap or hoodie up, you must bend your body back in order to look up and watch the lanterns lift skyward. Those few lines captured the reality of the scene perfectly. The entire work is just one captured image after another.

There’s something about Logan. You can sense it from the moment he is introduced. You can’t put your finger on it at first but as his character develops you begin to get subtle hints that he is beginning to blossom. I’m sure you will hit us with it, but only in your drip, drip of hints here and there. Your unique writing style that we have come to appreciate.

Another great piece of writing. Thank you so much for sharing.

Thank you!!!

 

[S.lewis2029]

This story caught my attention!! I need to read more ‍

 

[WrittenMuseum]

This story caught my attention!! I need to read more ‍

Thanks! I will gradually up here , btw the full vol1 book already published on KDP! Thanks again for reading and i’m so happy you enjoy it!

 

[Eissua22]

G

The Main Room

Evan was sprawled on the couch, his long legs stretched out and his back propped up against the armrest. He’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, the soft material clinging to his frame in a way that drew Logan’s eye more than it should have. A steaming mug of cocoa rested on the table beside him, and he glanced up as Logan entered, a faint smile curving his lips.

“Hey,” Evan said easily. “You were in there a while. Thought you fell asleep standing up.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his usual composure slipping into place as he crossed the room. “Takes more than a long shower to knock me out,” he said, his voice steady despite the lingering heat in his chest.

Evan grinned, shifting to sit up straighter as he gestured toward the second mug on the table. “Made you some cocoa. Figured it’d warm you up after all that chopping wood this morning. You know, in case your tough-guy act didn’t keep you warm enough.”

Logan smirked faintly, though he didn’t take the bait. He picked up the mug, the warmth seeping into his hands as he took a sip. The rich, slightly sweet taste filled his mouth, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

“Not bad,” Logan said, nodding toward the mug.

“Not bad?” Evan echoed, feigning offense. “That’s gourmet hot chocolate, I’ll have you know. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head as he leaned against the edge of the table. His sharp blue eyes flicked to Evan briefly, catching the way the younger man’s expression softened as he watched Logan.

Evan tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”

The question caught Logan off guard, his fingers tightening slightly around the mug. “Yeah. Why?”

Evan shrugged, his gaze steady. “You just... seem different. Quieter than usual.”

Logan huffed a laugh, though it lacked its usual edge. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Maybe,” Evan said, though his tone suggested he didn’t entirely believe it.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space between them. Logan stared into his mug, his thoughts still tangled despite his best efforts to push them aside. He could feel Evan’s presence beside him, the quiet warmth of the younger man’s attention both grounding and unsettling in ways Logan couldn’t explain.

Evan leaned back against the couch, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice soft, “you’re not as hard to figure out as you think.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Oh, yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Evan grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just that you’ve got layers. Tough guy on the outside, but underneath...”

“Underneath what?” Logan asked, his tone challenging but not unkind.

Evan’s smile softened, his gaze meeting Logan’s. “Underneath, you’re not so bad.”

Logan stared at him for a moment, his chest tightening as the words sank in. He could feel the tension in the room shift, subtle but unmistakable, the air between them charged with something unspoken.

For the first time in a long while, Logan didn’t know what to say.

The quiet crackle of the fire filled the cabin, mingling with the faint sound of the wind brushing against the windows. Logan had settled into the armchair near the fireplace, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the flames as he nursed the last of his cocoa. The warmth of the room wrapped around them, creating a cocoon of calm that was a welcome contrast to the chill outside.

Evan was on the couch, his legs curled beneath him as he stared at his phone. He wasn’t expecting any messages—most people who cared enough to check on him already knew he’d gone off the grid—but the sudden vibration in his hand made him startle slightly. The screen lit up, and the name Connor flashed across it.

He frowned, glancing at Logan. “I should take this,” he said, his voice low. “It’s my friend. Won’t be long.”

Logan nodded without looking up, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in the chair.

Evan pushed himself off the couch, walking toward the hallway for a semblance of privacy. He answered the call just before it went to voicemail, his tone slightly exasperated. “Connor.”

“Hey, man!” Connor’s cheerful voice boomed through the speaker. “How’s the cabin? Perfect, right? You’re welcome.”

Evan let out a sharp breath, rubbing his temple. “Connor, you didn’t book me a resort or a hotel or whatever you think you did. This is... someone’s family cabin.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Connor laughed, the sound full of disbelief. “What? That’s not possible. I booked it on one of those travel apps—rustic charm, secluded vibe, all that. Looked legit.”

“Well, it’s not,” Evan said firmly, pacing slightly. “It’s private. Like, someone actually lives here. Or at least uses it. The guy who owns it? He’s staying here too.”

Connor’s laugh trailed off into a confused hum. “Wait, wait. Back up. You’re telling me you’re staying in some random guy’s cabin? Who is this guy?”

“His name’s Logan,” Evan said, lowering his voice slightly as he glanced toward the main room. Logan hadn’t moved, still staring at the fire, but Evan couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was listening anyway. “He’s... a person who owns the cabin. He’s letting me stay because of the storm.”

Connor let out a low whistle. “And you’re still there? Jesus, Evan, what if he’s some psycho or—”

“He’s not,” Evan interrupted, his tone firmer than he’d intended. “He’s fine. Quiet. Kind of grumpy, but fine.”

Connor snorted. “Grumpy, huh? Sounds like a real people person.”

Evan couldn’t help but smile faintly, though he shook his head. “He’s not like that. I mean, yeah, he’s a little... reserved. But he’s been decent. He even drove me to town today for the Christmas festival.”

“Festival?” Connor said, his voice laced with surprise. “So, what, you two are best buds now?”

“It’s not like that,” Evan said quickly, though the words felt strange in his mouth. He hesitated, his mind drifting back to Logan—the quiet way he’d listened when Evan had talked about Mia, the sharp but thoughtful glint in his eyes when he’d teased Evan at the festival. “He’s just... I don’t know. Different.”

Connor hummed thoughtfully. “Different how?”

Evan frowned, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know. He’s hard to explain. Keeps to himself a lot, but he’s... solid, I guess? Like, he doesn’t try to fill the silence with useless noise.”

“Wow,” Connor said dryly. “He sounds like a barrel of laughs.”

Evan rolled his eyes, though there was no real heat in it. “He’s not bad, Connor. I mean it. He even let me stay after I told him about your booking mistake. Didn’t have to.”

Connor was quiet for a moment, his voice softer when he finally spoke. “Okay. If you say he’s good, I’ll trust you. But seriously, man, if anything feels off—”

“It’s fine,” Evan said quickly, cutting him off. “Really.”

Connor sighed heavily. “Alright. Fine. But you’ve got to admit, this whole thing’s pretty wild. You’re supposed to be relaxing, and instead you’re... what? Rooming with a grumpy woodsman?”

Evan snorted, unable to help himself. “Something like that.”

“Just don’t let him chop you up and hide you in the woods, alright?” Connor joked, though his tone was only half-playful.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evan said, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

“Good. And hey, if you get bored—or start to lose your mind out there—just call me. We can laugh about it together.”

Evan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Thanks, Connor. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Alright, man. Stay safe. Merry early Christmas, or whatever.”

“You too,” Evan said, ending the call with a small sigh. He stared at his phone for a moment longer before tucking it back into his pocket.

____

—————
Thanks again for reading!!

full volumn 1 book : this volumn 1 ! link
more on Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum

—-—————

Love this type of erotica and want to support my work?
You can find my full collection on Amazon and enjoy more stories like this. Visit my Amazon author page : WrittenMuseum
My novel that already published on KDP
- OMG F*cking life journey vol.1 (long seires, 100+ pages) full book on my KDP!
- Bare to the Bone
- The New Collection : Brandon’s Shame full book (100+pages) on my KDP too! (E-Book)
- The Christmas Spark (New!)
- Dick-covery (military camp erotica! New!)
Great

great writing !!!