Chapter 51 Chapter 50
Logan POV
She’s staring at me like she’s waiting for me to finally tell the truth.
I don’t.
I tell her something safer.
“I’m not built for relationships,” I say. “You know that.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. “Funny. You seemed pretty built for what happened in your bed.”
The memory hits like a body check.
Her skin under my hands.
The way she said my name like it meant something dangerous.
The way she looked at me afterward, like she was already bracing for impact.
I swallow. “That was… different.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “That’s the problem. You keep saying that like it makes it better.”
“I’m not saying it didn’t matter.”
“Then what are you saying?” she asks.
I hesitate.
Too long.
Her eyes sharpen. “You’re saying you don’t want it to matter.”
“That’s not—”
“Logan.” Her voice drops. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to let someone touch you the way I let you touch me?”
My chest tightens.
“I didn’t plan for it,” she continues. “I didn’t wake up thinking, you know what sounds like a great way to ruin my emotional stability? Sleeping with you.”
“Hey—”
“But I did. And I don’t regret it.” Her voice wobbles, just a little. “What I regret is thinking you might actually… stay.”
That word lands heavier than it should.
Stay.
I step closer before I think better of it. “Harper…”
She doesn’t step back.
That’s a mistake.
We’re standing too close. Close enough that I can see the faint shadows under her eyes. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo. Close enough that my body remembers exactly what it felt like to have her under me, breathing my name like it was a confession.
Her eyes flick to my mouth.
Then back to my eyes.
The air between us goes tight.
“This is what you do,” she says quietly. “You stand too close. You look at me like that. And then you act like I’m imagining things.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“Yes, you are,” she says. “You’re trying to have it both ways. You want me, but you don’t want what comes with wanting me.”
I clench my jaw. “You’re not my type.”
There it is.
The shield.
The excuse.
Her face changes. Not shock. Not hurt.
Something colder.
“Neither is emotional honesty,” she says. “Yet here we are.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant,” she says. “You’ve always liked girls who look a certain way. You’ve always made that very clear.”
I look away.
She steps closer.
“You don’t get to sleep with me like it meant something,” she says softly, “and then pretend I’m some kind of… detour.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. “I’m just trying to keep things simple.”
“There is nothing simple about the way you kissed me,” she says.
I look at her.
Really look at her.
Her eyes are bright. Not with tears. With something sharper. Something braver.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” she asks. “It changed things for me. And I can tell you’re trying to pretend it didn’t for you.”
It did.
That’s the problem.
I step back.
She notices.
Of course she does.
“There it is,” she says. “That’s the distance.”
“I’m not running.”
“You always are.”
I exhale hard. “What do you want from me?”
She hesitates.
Then says, “I wanted you to not treat me like I was just… a moment.”
The word hits.
A moment.
That’s what I’ve been trying to turn it into.
Something small.
Something manageable.
Something that doesn’t rearrange my entire life.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit finally.
She nods. “That part? I believe.”
Silence stretches.
People pass by.
The world keeps going like we didn’t just crack something open.
“I’m not going to chase you,” she says. “I’ve done that in my head for years. I’m done doing it in real life.”
I look at her. “So what, you’re just… done?”
She shrugs. “I’m done letting you decide what I’m worth.”
That stings more than it should.
She turns toward the door.
“Harper.”
She pauses, but doesn’t look back.
“I didn’t use you.”
She finally turns. “Maybe not. But you’re acting like you’re trying to.”
She leaves.
And for the first time, I realize something terrifying:
I didn’t lose control that night.
I lost control after.
And that might be worse.