𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 ━━━ ❄

“Sweetheart, I can talk my way out of anything,” she drawled back to him, flashing a confident grin to add to her statement. And it was true. She had a way of fabricating truths to her own advantage, otherwise known as lying, and Logan knew exactly how to work people into giving her what she wanted. Was she proud of it? No. Never. However, living by scraps and handouts often made one fall into desperate measures. She had sunk so low that even clambering back to the surface was far more difficult than staying in place, slowly drowning. It was easier in her world of deceit.

Hearing the word kinky come out of Nick’s mouth was the event that snapped Logan out of her self wallowing, quickly whipping her head towards him with an arched brow and wide eyes. Kinky and Nick Kerrigan were not cohesive -- or so she thought. Maybe it was the chinos or the way his hair never seemed to be out of place. But, she then noticed his daunting smirk and the mischievous glint in his eye. Oh, he was joking with her. She cocked her head to the side, dragging her stare away from him as she sat at the table, suppressing a smirk. However, as he claimed that he was only finishing the meal on his own accord, she let her smile unfold. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m a great cook. You just distracted me, that’s all.” Another lie.

As he cooked, they mostly stayed silent. Sure, she would peer over his shoulder every now and then, attempting to learn what cooking was all about, or she would roll her eyes at the absurd amount of vegetables he had sauteed. He had finished cooking rather quickly and as Nick set a plate of steaming food in front of her, Logan was positive that she had moaned out of relief. She wouldn’t apologize for that absurdity, either.

And then her face fell as she saw the number of vegetables he had given her. Like a damn child. The pout that had unfolded across her face could have put toddlers to shame. She let Nick see the full extent of it, too. Still, Logan’s stomach rumbled and she sighed and grabbed her fork, digging into the food.

She hated that it tasted so damn good.

Nick was a decent cook, she would give him that. She wasn’t used to eating homemade meals made from scratch, her mother never cooked for them and when Logan did cook, it was always something with directions on the back like mac and cheese or something as simple as sandwiches. Envy flashed before her, hating herself that she was jealous of a man who didn’t know her, or her story due to her own fabrications. She dug herself into her own grave, now she had to lie in it. So, she ate silently, finishing most of the pasta and even a couple of the vegetables, although that was a desperate attempt. She still crinkled her nose when eating them, unfortunately. She enjoyed the zucchini and that was about it.

Throughout dinner, when night slowly started to fall across their small cabin, Logan found herself grower colder with every passing second. First, it was just a chill every now and then, as if a breeze flew through the door. However, it eventually became constant shivering and she wrapped her arms around her chest, sinking into herself to preserve any bit of warmth while also not wanting to give Nick the satisfaction of seeing her struggle.

She was surprised to see him grab the firewood, though, and attempt to get a fire going. Even without any pestering from her. And he did finish dinner for them both…

No, the dick locked her outside of the cabin with a damned bear. He was the spawn of Satan and Logan wouldn’t think otherwise. Couldn’t think otherwise. Her hatred for Nick was all the leverage she had here, she wasn’t going to toss it after one night. She was a hurricane and he was the steady calm of a storm. They would never align.

Even with the fire blazing, her bones felt as if they had turned to icicles. She hated Alaska. She hated Nick Kerrigan.

Hearing his voice over the roaring in her ears, Logan shifted her eyes to him, pressing her lips together to keep her teeth from chattering. And there was that stupid nickname again. Shortstack. “N-no, I’m f-fine, you i-idiot.” Yeah, a real solid attempt at being threatening there. Nice one, Logan. “I’m j-just going to h-head to b-bed, okay?” She pushed herself away from the table, bringing her plate to the sink and trying her best to control her shaking hands. With gritted teeth, she turned towards their shared bedroom, throwing on a knitted cardigan as well as another pair of socks. She climbed into the large bed and quickly dissolved underneath the many blankets the cabin offered. They smelled of mothballs and campfire. Nothing like the scent of the city, how the rain would cover the world in a thick, earthy scent. How the smell of the pizza shop down the corner would sometimes make its way into Logan’s room.

Even though it wasn’t much, she missed home. She was worried about her mother, but mostly her siblings.

Footsteps sounded outside of the door and Logan, with a swarm of blankets up to her chin, growled at the impending doom of her fiance. “No,” she started, trying her best to not stutter with the ravaging chills that ransacked her body. “S-stay o-out you o-oaf.”

Of course, he did no such thing. Nick listening to her demands was about as rare as her eating a vegetable.