“I’m sorry.” I heard my voice before I realized I’d spoken.
Logan’s hands lifted toward mine. He’d been going to touch me, but at my words, he stopped. His head cocked to the side. “Huh?”
“I’m sorry.” I gestured to the girl. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the real you, and I did this.”
His hand ran through his hair. “Taylor—” he started.
I shook my head. He wasn’t going to be himself, and I didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t.”
“You seem to be mistake—” he said anyway.
“I’m not,” I cut him off. I knew the real him. “You’re sweet. You’re kind. You want to be loved. You still miss your mom’s love. You yearn for a dad who’ll choose you over his lover. You want a girl who’ll hold your hand on top of a broken roller coaster.” I could only whisper the words as they tumbled out now. “You want a partner in crime, but also someone you can protect, and who’ll do the same for you.”
He didn’t say a word, just stared at me with a dumbfounded expression.
I pressed a hand to his stomach. “No one knows the real you, but I do.”
A stricken look passed between us, but he still didn’t speak.
“I see you.” I looked over at the girl. “That’s not you. That’s not the real you.”
He still said nothing, and I didn’t want to look up at him. I didn’t want to know whether he couldn’t talk or didn’t want to. I’d said what I needed to say. I just wanted him to know.
Keeping my head low, I stepped back again and put my earbuds in. Then I turned and kept running.
After a few paces, I found an extra bounce in my step. I’d said what I needed to say, and I realized I was okay.
My mom.
Eric.
My dad.
Jason.
Even Claire.
All of them.
I was okay, and that was because Logan had healed me. For that reason alone, I loved him.
I stopped—right there, right then—in the middle of the sidewalk. It was as if I’d hit a cement wall. I gasped for breath, feeling my insides smashed and jumbled up.
I loved Logan.
I couldn’t move.
I loved Logan…
I gasped for breath.
Holy shit.
LOGAN
I couldn’t move. Fucking hell. Somehow Taylor had just ripped me all the way to my core, and I couldn’t even fucking breathe.
“Hey—”
“Stop,” I cut the girl off. I didn’t want to hear it. She was going to cut Taylor down, and I wouldn’t have it.
“What?”
I turned and looked down the sidewalk. Taylor had kept running, but suddenly she stopped. She stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. I held my breath. I was exposed and raw, but holy fucking shit—that was what I’d been waiting for. All these damn years, that right there. Just that.
Taylor saw me. She saw through me. She saw into me. She saw me, and she claimed me.
“Logan?”
The girl touched my arm, but I moved away. I didn’t want her touch. I’d been revolted by it as soon as I woke up next to her, and I’d slipped out. I hadn’t known she was at the window until Taylor looked and saw her.
I wanted to apologize to Taylor. She caught me leaving another girl’s bed, but then she apologized. She went deep, deeper than anyone else in my life. I was so wrong. I saw her running and instantly wanted to claim her as mine again, but I fought against myself. These days I always fought against myself when it came to her. Every damn time in class I forced myself not to sink into the chair next to her. I forced myself to keep moving. I forced myself to sit with other girls, to hear their annoying come-ons.
That was all I’d been doing the past month, forcing myself to stay away from Taylor, and then she pulls this shit?
She gutted me.
I couldn’t move, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. I wanted to go after her, ask her why if she could see me she couldn’t be with me.
But I didn’t. Like every damned day this month, I didn’t. I didn’t text. I didn’t call. I did nothing, and I was starting to hate myself for it. Because I needed to go to her. It was normal to be with her, because she was mine. My insides knew it.
Because she was still mine, just like I was hers.
Fucking hell. I was in love with her.
I was in love with Taylor Bruce.
Fucking…hell…
“Logan.” The girl lifted her hand again to touch me. I saw it