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“You already did,” she snaps, her lashes leaving wet marks on her cheeks. “And I was so fucking stupid to give you another chance. Get out.”

Before I can respond, she enters the bathroom again, leaving me alone in silence.

Numbly, I gather up my things, unseeing, unfeeling.

The door clicks softly shut behind me, but the sound is deafening. As I walk down the hall toward the RV, divorce papers clutched in one hand and the echo of her voice still ringing in my head, I realize the worst part isn’t that I lost her again.

It’s that I deserved to.

Chapter

Twenty-One

Salem

By the time I exit the bathroom, Logan’s gone.

I stare at the cheap motel door, barely breathing. Get the fuck out, I'd said.

And he did.

My chest caves, crumpling in on itself like a paper bag as I stumble backward until I hit the edge of my bed. The wine is still sitting on the nightstand, half-empty. I snatch it and take a long gulp straight from the bottle as my music switches to Killpop by Slipknot.

The liquor burns, but not nearly enough.

I press the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to swallow the scream rising in my throat.

He lied. He fucking lied to me. And I let him touch me. Let him inside me.

My stomach churns, disgust crawling over my skin like ants. I claw at my hair like that’ll protect me from the memory of his hands on me, his mouth. The look in his eyes when he told me he’d been with no one else—the way he’d hesitated. Should have known.

I take another swig and wipe my chin on my sleeve. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.

Flopping back onto the bed, I stare at the aged popcorn ceiling, trying to blink back the sting in my eyes. My mom’s voice creeps into my head.

“No wonder you can’t keep a man. Pretty on the outside, but rotten within.”

“Yeah, and what’s your excuse?” I’d lobbed back at her on one of many nights we’d squared off in the living room. I was in high school by that point, and had begun standing up for myself.

“You are!” She spit viciously. “I gave up everything for you. You ruined my body, my life. I wish I’d never fucking kept you.”

The wine sloshes as I tip the bottle again, drinking until it stops hurting. Or… at least until I can’t tell the difference anymore.

The bed shifts under my weight when I curl in on myself, skin still sore from where I tried to scrub his scent from it. Maybe my mother was right. Maybe I’m just wired wrong.

But I’ll never give Logan the chance to lie to me again.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Logan

The last thing I want to do is be surrounded by people, especially after last night.

But Christian insisted, muttering something about “team morale” and “If one more person mopes in the RV, I’m driving it off a cliff.”

So, here we are: at some pop-up night market in downtown Indy where every corner of the place smells like roasted corn and fried sugar. String lights hang from overhead canopies while a live band plays some folky cover of Devils & Angels by Royal Bliss in the middle of the square