Nadine

Nadine
Nadine
Shawn is still drowsy, I gently lower him back onto his bed. I press a soft kiss to his forehead as if I can somehow make up for all the time I lost.
I watch him, unable to look away. His tiny chest rises and falls, his soft curls slightly messy from sleep.
My fingers trace his cheek lightly, committing every detail of his face to memory.
I know that just standing here, staring at him, won’t ease the pain of being apart for so long.
It won’t fix the nights he must have cried for me, or the moments I missed. But at least I’m here now. At least I got out of Daniel’s hell alive. That has to mean something.
Slowly, Shawn drifts back into a deep sleep, his breathing evening out. I take a step back, my heart is still heavy but a little steadier now.
And then I feel it.
Logan’s eyes were on me.
I turn, and sure enough, he’s standing there, watching me like I’m made of glass, like if he blinks, I’ll shatter into a million pieces. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his gaze.
He parts his lips to speak, but before he can, I lift my hand, cutting him off. "Don’t," I whisper sharply.
He presses his lips together, his jaw tightening as if he’s forcing himself to stay silent.
But his eyes… they don’t waver.
They hold mine like they’re searching for something like they’re trying to break through the walls I’ve put up.
Well, tough luck.
Because of those walls? They’re made of steel now. Reinforced by pain, betrayal, and everything that has happened.
Nothing is breaking them down.
Not his presence. Not his words. Not the way he looks at me like I’m still the woman he once knew.
I’m not that woman anymore.
And I never will be again.
But damn it, just standing here, staring at him, makes me feel weak in a way I hate.
Because I can’t reconcile the man I saw back there—the one who stood in the middle of chaos, calm and ruthless—with the man standing in front of me now, looking at me with so many emotions in his eyes that it makes my chest tighten.
"We need to talk," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
That seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in.
I roll my eyes like I give a damn about what’s going on in his head. I don’t. Not anymore.
Without waiting for a response, I push past him, feeling his presence right behind me as I make my way to the living room. His footsteps are steady and controlled, just like him.
By the time I reach the couch, every part of my body still aches from everything I’ve been through, but I force myself to stay upright.
The moment I sink onto the couch, a sharp pain shoots through my side, making me wince.
And of course, Logan notices.
I see the concern flash across his face, his body tensing like he wants to do something about it.
But the cold, dead glare I shoot his way stops him before he even tries.
Good.
I’ve been a fool.
A fool for Daniel. A fool for Jake. A fool for Logan.
And then a fool for Daniel all over again.
But no more.
I won’t be that gullible, naive woman who keeps getting tangled up in men and their bullshit.
I refuse to keep losing pieces of myself every time I tie my life to someone else’s.
I will take charge of my own damn life.
And that decision?
It’s final.
I take a deep breath, "We need to set some ground rules, Logan. And that starts with the fact that I’ll be moving out first thing tomorrow."
His jaw tightens, and I can see the protest forming on his lips, but I lift my hand, stopping him before he can speak.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his entire posture locked with tension.
"I can’t live in the same house with someone I thought I knew, We’re strangers now. And I don’t want us crossing paths in the wrong way."
Logan says nothing, but his grip on his knees tightens, his knuckles turning white.
"And as for Shawn," I continue, ignoring the emotions storming in his eyes, "we need to figure out a schedule. He’ll stay with me during the week since he’s starting school soon. You’ll have him on weekends."
His fingers flex, but still, he didn't say a word.
"Whatever we both thought we had, it ends now," I say, each word sharp and final. "And for Shawn’s sake, let’s at least try to be civil."
This time, I want him to say something. To argue, to fight back—anything. But he didn’t.
He just stares at me, his eyes locked onto mine, overflowing with emotions I don’t want to see.
I refuse to be vulnerable to those eyes.
"If that’s all, I’d like to call it a night," I mutter, pushing myself up from the couch. My body still aches, but I don’t let it show.
I make my way toward my room but my stomach churns when I realize I have to pass right by him.
And just like I feared, the second I do, his hand shoots out, catching mine.
A spark erupts, that same damn tingling sensation that always comes when he’s near, when he touches me when he looks at me like that.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. No. Not this time.
"Leave me the fuck alone," I say through gritted teeth, my tone leaving no room for argument.
His grip tightens for a fraction of a second just enough to make my pulse spike before he lets go.
I can’t wait to see the look on his face.
I just walk away.
"Nothing changes what I feel for you. I love you so damn much, and it hurts me to see us apart like this." He says quietly enough for me to hear.
My heart tightens at his confession, and yet, something in me feels like it might just break free. It’s like my heart is both aching and pounding, trying to push me toward him, but I won’t let it.
I force a smile, one that doesn’t even touch my eyes but my heart. It betrays me. The pain it’s causing is unbearable. Still, I push it down, the smile more like a mask than anything else.
I lean close to him, bringing my lips to his ear, and whisper, "Tell that to the wind, but you know what? I don’t fucking care."
With that, I yank my hand out of his grip, feeling the coolness of the space between us. I turn sharply and make my way toward my room, my heart racing, pounding against my ribcage with every step.
When I entered the room, I noticed it was the same as when I left it. Nothing has changed.
I move to the drawer, open it, and see an old book I had kept. Slowly, I pull it out, along with a pen, and begin writing down everything I need.
I won’t be going back to that house.
It’s time to start over.
I need a new apartment, or maybe I’ll buy a new house entirely. I still have the money Logan gave me, part of the deal for the contract.
And I’ve never wanted to touch it. But now, I’m taking that money and making it mine.
A new house. A new car. I’m changing everything starting with myself.
I won’t be hiding in the shadows anymore. I won’t be subtle. I’ll make heads turn when I walk by. I’ll be a new me—strong, untouchable.
With that thought in mind, I settle into my bed. But as I closed my eyes, sleep didn’t bring me peace. Instead, my dreams are jagged, full of images I don’t want to remember. It’s as if everything I’ve tried to bury is coming back to haunt me.