“Logan,” she says, breath catching.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not making this easy.”
“Wasn’t trying to.”
She turns to face me, her gaze falling to the ridiculous top hat in my hand. “You’re gonna look insane in that.”
I smirk. “That’s the idea.”
“Mad Hatter, huh?”
I lift the hat and set it on my head at a crooked angle. “Completely mad for you.”
She rolls her eyes but smiles—and it hits me like a shot to the chest. Because that smile? That’s the first real one I’ve seen today.
And I know she’s still healing. Still questioning. Still afraid.
But for now, we’re here. Together.
Getting dressed in a borrowed room in a house full of family, ready to step into a night that promises something new.
Maybe even magic.
Because if she’s Alice, and I’m the Mad Hatter…
Then this love—this wild, impossible, aching love we’ve found in the wreckage—is the realest kind of Wonderland there is.
I strip the shirt over my head, tossing it to the bed without a thought. I'm half-focused on digging through the costume bag when I feel her behind me—still, quiet.
When I turn, she's staring.
Not at my face.
But at the fresh ink scrawled across my chest—still a little red around the edges, the skin raised and tender where it hasn’tquite healed yet. Her name. Mackayla. Inked in bold, elegant script. Right over my heart.
The world stops turning.
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
So I do.
I step toward her slowly, like anything louder than a whisper might shatter the moment completely.
“I got it last night,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “Right after I dropped you off.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, wide and glistening, and I feel like I’ve just handed her the last piece of myself I was still holding back.
“This isn’t just ink,” I whisper, pressing her palm flat against it. “It’s you. You’re here now, carved into me. Permanent. Irrevocable.”
Tears brim at the corners of her eyes.
“I know I’ve made mistakes, angel” I murmur, curling my hand over hers. “But you… you were never one of them. Loving you is the only thing I’ve ever gotten right.”
She opens her mouth to say something—but it falters. Breaks. Her lips tremble instead.
“I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you in it, Mac. I don’t want a life where I don’t get to kiss you goodnight or hold you through the bad days or laugh with you through the good ones. I want forever. With you. Only you.”
