Logan's POV
I'm still frozen in my seat, my chest heaving as Noah looks up at Rowan and Oliver with tears in his eyes.
His hands clench into fists and pushes himself up. His touch disappears the moment he's on his feet and my heart aches and aches and aches.
"Hey Bug," Noah says. He forces on a smile but he can't keep the trembling out of his voice.
Rowan sets Oliver down and the cub squeals, little feet pounding across the carpet toward us. Noah catches him before he can crash into his legs. The movement is so smooth, so instinctive, that it's muscle memory at this point— Noah catching his cub before he can faceplant into the floor.
He scoops Oliver onto his hip, and Oliver's small hand comes up, brushing Noah's cheek. His brows pinch together in a frown that's equal parts confused and worried in that innocent, unfiltered way only toddlers can manage.
"Papa's sad?"
