I smiled in spite of myself, thinking about that as I turned down another block of houses. I didn’t notice the guy at first because I was busy realizing it hadn’t hurt as much to think about Logan this time. But then I realized he was near.

His Escalade caught my attention first. Then I saw a guy leaving a house and heading for the street. He moved toward the car, drawing closer as I did the same.

My stomach sank. It was Logan, and as my head turned, he saw me at the same time. His eyes widened before his mask slipped in place in the next instant, but I couldn’t react as quickly as him. My mind was whirling. Logan didn’t live here. Why would he… It clicked then, and I didn’t want to look, but my head moved of its own accord. I stared at the house he’d come from, and I saw a girl there, watching from the window in a skimpy tank top and barely there boy shorts. Seeing me, recognition flooded her eyes, and she disappeared from the window. Her door opened the next second, and she moved out to her front porch, her hands resting on her slim hips.

I came to a stop, not realizing it, until Logan said, “You run?”

“Huh?”

I couldn’t tear my gaze from the girl. She had no bra on. Her shirt fell low between her breasts, and they looked abnormally large on her very tiny body. Pain took my breath. God. I had heard the stories, knew he was sleeping around, but seeing it firsthand, the dam I’d had built to contain it all burst open. It flooded me, and I felt dizzy. I almost didn’t hear his next statement.

“—figures.”

“What?” I pulled out my earbuds, and the music blasted between us. It was jarring, but that went for the whole situation. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Logan didn’t even have his shirt on. It was in his hand, and his jeans rode low over his hips. When he realized I was checking him out, a hard look flashed in his eyes before a smirk appeared. He tossed the shirt over his shoulder and transformed into the cocky Logan Kade so many knew.

I saw this façade, but I also saw through it. I saw the sweet Logan. The Logan who took me to sit on top of a roller coaster so I could see one of the most beautiful views in town. I saw the Logan who’d punched my ex-boyfriend, no questions asked. I saw the Logan that liked to make food for his family, and who took me away from one party to show me what a real party was like.

I drew in a shuddering breath.

God.

I looked past the hardened smirk he wore to hurt me. This was the guy who’d brought me back to life. He’d made me feel again, and realizing all of this, tears came to my eyes.

What had I done?

Blood rushed to my face, but somehow it drained from there, too. I was a mess inside because I now knew I’d made the worst mistake of my life.

I’d let him go. Worse, I’d forced him away.

I turned to the girl. She had a smug smirk on her face, similar to Logan’s at first glance, but so different. Hers was real. She honestly thought he was hers. But he wasn’t. He was mine.

He was supposed to be mine, and I’d lost him. I shook my head. She wasn’t his. If she thought that, she was a fool. I knew, without a doubt, that he’d never date her. Screw her, yes. Date her, not in a million. But as if sensing my thoughts, her smirk grew, and she lifted her chin, daring me.

I started for her, not even thinking about it, but Logan stepped between us. He blocked my view, and once I saw his chest instead of hers—his perfectly shaped and sculpted chest—I jerked backward. I burned, and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to take everything back. I wanted him back. All this screamed inside of me, but I couldn’t do anything. Not here. Not like this. It was done.

I forced myself to step away from him, though one step forward and I’d be against him.

“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.