His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 133: Warmth In The Cold

Chapter 133– Warmth In The Cold

Tyler's POV

I was too weak to protest.

My lips didn't move. My arms didn't lift.

So I let him.

I let Logan raise me up from the cold, wet ground like I was nothing more than a sack of bones.

Like I wasn't the same boy who used to scream and fight and refuse help from anyone.

He moved slowly. Carefully.

His hand found mine and gently placed it over his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and held me close, steadying me as he guided me to the car.

The rain was still falling.

Hard.

Angry.

It didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon.

Logan opened the car door and helped me inside.

He didn't just throw me in—he made sure I was comfortable, even though I was soaked and shivering like a leaf in the wind.

Then he shut the door gently and rushed back out to pick my clothes from the floor.

I turned my head slowly and peeked through the window.

My vision was blurry, but I could see him—bending down, picking up my small pile of clothes and the bag.

It was barely ten pieces.

My whole life in ten soaked, muddy pieces.

He tried to carry them.

But they were heavy with mud and rain.

His hands dropped them.

And instead of struggling, he just... stood there.

Staring at them.

Then he left them there.

He walked away, back toward the car.

Leaving my clothes in the mud.

He got in and closed the door with a deep sigh.

This time, his own clothes were soaked too—dripping and clinging to his skin.

He turned on the engine and immediately switched on the heater.

Warm air started filling the car.

I could hear it.

Feel it brushing against my frozen fingers.

But my body was still shaking uncontrollably.

Still numb.

He glanced at me.

And then asked, "Are you okay?"

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

My teeth were still kissing each other like they were madly in love.

My body kept shaking like it was trying to shake the shame out of me.

He hissed.

"If only you had listened to me," he muttered.

"If only you got in the car earlier, it wouldn't have gotten this bad."

I didn't argue.

Because he was right.

And I had no strength left to lie.

No excuse to make.

"You need to hold on for me, okay?" he said, eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't have any clothes for you to wear right now. Not in the car.

I would've given you my shirt, but it's soaked too... so there's nothing I can do until we get home."

He kept driving.

Fast.

My eyes stayed closed.

I was tired.

So tired.

After some minutes, I found the strength to ask, "Where are we going?"

My voice barely came out.

He didn't even hesitate.

"Your house, of course. Where else would we be going?"

My eyes flew open in panic.

"No... no," I whispered.

He chuckled softly.

"I'm kidding," he said quickly.

"We're not going back to your house. I knew you didn't want to return.

If you did, you wouldn't have taken all your clothes and sat in the damn rain waiting to freeze to death."

I swallowed hard.

So he did understand.

"We're going to my place," he added.

That made me pause.

My heart started racing again—not from the cold, but from fear.

"What about your father?" I asked weakly.

"Wouldn't he... wouldn't he say something?"

Logan's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

"He won't say anything." he said firmly.

Just like that.

No doubt. No hesitation.

I stared at him for a moment longer.

His jaw was clenched.

His eyes, focused.

"Wouldn't he ask you how I got here?" I asked again, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Wouldn't he call my father and tell him I'm in your house?"

The questions slipped out of my mouth too fast, one after the other. I didn't even wait for Logan to answer. My mind was racing even though my body was barely holding on.

Logan sighed, eyes still fixed on the road as he kept driving. He was going faster now, like he couldn't wait to get me home.

"Yeah," he said calmly, "he would've asked those questions. And he would've done all those things..."

He paused. Then added, "If only he was home."

That made me open my eyes slightly. "He's not?"

"Nope. He's out of town for the weekend," Logan replied. "So don't stress yourself. You won't be seeing him. You won't be hearing from him. You're safe."

I let out a weak breath. Maybe it was relief. Or maybe I just didn't have the energy to panic anymore.

Logan glanced at me briefly, then said, "Now, if you don't mind, save the rest of your strength until we get to the house. You're still cold, and you look like you could pass out any second."

He wasn't wrong.

"If you ask any more questions, I swear I won't answer you," he added, his voice low and a little teasing. "Don't waste your last drops of energy asking stuff that'll get no reply."

I didn't argue. I didn't even nod.

My eyes were shut again, and even that felt like the only thing I could still control.

The ride felt endless.

Like time had stopped.

The hum of the engine, the soft blow of the heater, the sound of rain hitting the windows—it all blended into one dull noise in my head.

Then the car came to a stop.

I felt it before I heard anything.

We'd finally arrived.

Logan took the keys out, got out, and came around to my side.

He opened the door and reached for me gently, his hands strong but careful.

"Come on," he whispered.

He helped me up, supporting me as we walked together through the garage and into the house. At least in the garage, there was no rain. No cold wind. Just quiet.

Once inside, the warmth of the house hit me immediately.

It smelled like clean linen and something soft—maybe his cologne, or just the way his house felt.

Can't believe u was in his place earlier today but i was stronger when i was there listening to gossips

He bent down and removed my shoes himself. I wanted to stop him, tell him I could do it... but I couldn't.

I didn't even try.

Then he helped me up the stairs. My eyes were closed, but I could feel every step, every turn.

We entered his bedroom, and he laid me gently on the edge of the bed.

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He moved quickly, turning on the heater and letting it warm up the space even more.

"You're going to be okay," he said, meeting my eyes for a second.

Then he straightened up and looked toward the wardrobe.

"I'll excuse you so you can change out of those wet clothes," he said. "Take anything you want from my wardrobe. You'll find sweatpants, shirts, hoodies—whatever works. Dump the wet stuff in the laundry basket over there."

He pointed.

I nodded slowly. "Thank you..." I said quietly. "I didn't know you were this kind."

He didn't smile.

He didn't say anything.

Just nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The room was warm. So warm.

The heater was doing its job perfectly, and for the first time in hours, I felt like my body was slowly remembering how to feel again.

I stripped out of the cold, damp clothes.

Every movement made me shiver, but the heat in the room fought back.

I found a soft black sweatpant and a grey oversized T-shirt in his wardrobe and wore them quickly. They were too big, but I didn't care. They felt like a hug.

I lay down again, pulling the comforter over myself, eyes closed.

Still shivering, but less now.

I was almost asleep when I heard a soft knock at the door.

I opened my eyes, and there he was again.

Logan.

"Sorry to disturb you," he said. "I just brought you this."

He held out a mug.

"Hot chocolate. Thought it might help warm you up."

I sat up slowly, took the mug from him with trembling hands, and whispered, "Thank you."

He didn't leave. He just sat on the chair near the bed, watching me silently as I drank.

It was warm. Sweet. Comforting.

It felt like medicine and love at the same time.

After I finished, I handed the mug back to him.

"Thanks again," I said, looking him in the eyes this time. "Really."

He nodded and stood up, turning toward the door.

But something inside me stopped him.

"Wait," I said quickly.

He froze.

I hesitated. My cheeks were already flushed, not from fever, but from what I was about to ask.

"Could you... please cuddle me?" I whispered.

"I'm still really cold."