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That one word tears through me sharply. Wife. Of course.

“Right,” I grit out, fists curling at my sides. “Yeah. That fucking tracks.”

Logan sighs behind me. “Dev⁠—”

“No, it’s fine.” I spin to face him and flash a condescending smile I don’t mean. “Go be a husband, Logan. Play house, make up for lost time, all that shit. Should I expect a pregnancy announcement soon?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, expression crumpling.

Bitterness bleeds from my tone. “But that’s what you said. You said 'wife.' It makes sense, honestly. She's the right choice, huh?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration, the heart monitor kicking up a notch. “Jesus, Dev, I'm not… It's not like I'm making a choice. This isn’t black and white.”

“No, it’s not.” I slump against the windowsill as the anger leaves me in one swoop. “It’s gray, and messy, and fucked beyond repair. Just like me. So go play the perfect life with Salem and let me go back to being the mistake everyone regrets.”

Just like my parents. Just like Christian.

“You were never a mistake,” he says quietly.

But I’m already halfway to the door, silently daring him with every step to stop me.

He doesn’t. Why would he?

I pause with my fingers curled around the handle, just long enough to look over my shoulder. The pity in his golden eyes makes me want to light a match, soak everything in gasoline, and burn whatever the fuck was happening between us to the ground.

I can do that for him. I can give him this second chance without all my baggage weighing him down.

“You know, it’s almost poetic. You spent your whole life pretending to be someone you’re not… and now you’re running after the person who only loved that fake version of you.”

Logan pales, but I twist the knife deeper by giving him an ugly grin. “Hope she’s worth it, man.”

And with that, I flee the scene of the crime, those stars blinking after me like witnesses as I practically sprint down the hall.

Each step feels heavier than the last, but I don't turn around. There's no point.

I was put on this earth for the sole purpose of being used by others, and it's time I accept my place.

Chapter

Forty-Five

Logan

Every muscle in my body screams, but I keep going.

One more stretch. One more rep. One more chance to feel like I'm not completely wasting away again.

“I want you to hold that for ten more seconds,” my physical therapist says through my laptop screen, her voice calm and annoyingly optimistic. “You’re doing great, Logan.”

I grunt through clenched teeth, arm shaking as I balance on one leg in Taylor and Christian’s tiny ass living room. My other hand grips the arm of the couch for support, sweat dripping down my neck.

“You said that two sets ago,” I snap, irritated with how weak I am. Not that I was exactly the pinnacle of physical health before the crash, but this is ridiculous.

“Yeah, and you’re still alive, aren’t you?” she fires back with a smirk. “Ten… nine… eight…”