Before she could protest, his hand found hers… warm, steady, unhurried. He led her down a short service hallway, past a staff door, and up a narrow flight of stairs she hadn't even noticed before.
The door at the top creaked open, spilling them onto the rooftop terrace.
And there, above the city skyline, the night bloomed into color.
Fireworks cracked open the darkness… brilliant blossoms of red, gold, and silver, each reflection mirrored in the glass towers around them.
Jean's breath caught. "Logan…?"
"Father arranged it," he murmured beside her. "To celebrate tonight. But I thought…" He trailed off, words unfinished. His gaze turned to her instead of the sky. "I thought you'd rather see it up here. Away from everyone else."
Jean swallowed, her heart tightening. "And you?"
"I'd rather see it like this, too," he confessed, voice lower, raw and real.
