Logan's POV
Noah insists on driving me to training even though I could've just taken Rowan's car. Not that I mind being his passenger princess, but I can tell he's tense. His grip on the steering wheel is a little too tight, adjusting his rear view mirror more times than necessary, his jaw working like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say.
I, on the other hand, am in a fucking fantastic mood for once. The sun's out, the windows are down, and for the first time in weeks, I'm finally out of the estate, not hunched over security footage or trying to teach grown wolves how to throw a proper punch. The sky is clear, the air is warm, the wind whips through my hair, carrying the scent of cut grass and asphalt. Summer smells.
For the first time in days, I feel like myself. Or at least, a version of myself I recognize.
