Martha clapped her hands once. "Alright, lovebirds and drama queens… dinner's almost ready. I made enough to feed a small army, and no one's leaving until Jean finishes two servings. Doctor's orders. And by doctor, I mean me."
Jean raised a brow. "What if I'm not hungry?"
Martha narrowed her eyes. "Then Logan can feed you. Bite by bite."
Jean blinked. Hannah howled in excitement. Logan? He just smirked.
"I'm okay with that."
Jean rolled her eyes, but warmth bloomed in her chest.
Maybe she wasn't fully healed. Maybe the chaos wasn't over.
But at that moment… with stew warming in the kitchen, laughter bouncing off the walls, and Logan's hand resting gently on the small of her back… Jean felt something unfamiliar.
Safe.
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The dining room was filled with warmth… the golden clinking of cutlery, the faint aroma of garlic and herbs, and Martha humming some old tune as she set the table.
