Page 51 of Pucking Fake

It's like I just can't escape my father. No matter what I do, I'll always be an affair baby. I'll always be the kid he created but didn't want. I'll never be good enough.

I'm so damn tired of it.

And now, they're dragging Logan into it too. It's not me they're laughing at this time. It's him. They expect me to be a horrible person. My mom slept with a married man. As far as the world is concerned, being worthless is encoded in my DNA. But Logan doesn't deserve to be dragged down with me.

And I don't deserve their crap, either. I've never done anything to deserve it. I can't help the way I was born. The only one responsible for cheating on his wife is the one they continue to give a free pass. It's infuriating!

"Baby?" Logan calls from the doorway.

I sniffle, leaping to my feet. "It isn't true!"

He must notice the tears on my face because he curses and strides toward me, his expression downright lethal. "What happened?"

"I… They…" I groan, burying my face in his throat. "It isn't true, Logan. I wasn't cheating on you."

"What the fuck?" he mutters, tipping my head back. His gaze runs across my face, nothing but concern written there. "Who the fuck said you were cheating on me?"

"The waitress at the restaurant called Celebrity Teatime," I whisper. "Some photographer showed up when I was leaving. He started snapping photos. I tripped into a guy. I nearly knocked us both over, but he kept us on our feet and made sure I was okay. Then the freaking photographer started asking me if you knew I was meeting up with him behind your back. I guess he was Austin Hawkes."

Logan growls softly.

"I didn't even know who he was until the stupid photographer started shouting his name," I mutter. "But they're already publishing stories, saying I'm just like my dad." My bottom lip quivers. "They think you're an i-idiot for being with me."

"Fuck them," he snarls, scooping me up into his arms. He strides toward the bed before settling against the headboard with me against his chest. "I've never given a flying fuck what they had to say about me before, do you think I care now?"

"You should," I whisper. "They're never going to stop pointing out that I don't deserve you."

He cranes my head back, forcing me to look at him. "Do you really believe that bullshit?"

"I…" I swallow nervously. "I don't know."

"Well, I do." He presses his lips to mine, his kiss firm and unyielding. "You're worthy exactly as you are. You aren't your father. They don't get to judge you because of his sins, baby. Fuck that noise. If they want to judge someone, they can walk their ignorant asses over to Capital Hill and judge that prick. He's the motherfucker who got your mom pregnant and then abandoned both of you. And he's the one who let you suffer in foster care instead of stepping up when you needed him most."

"I wish it worked that way."

"Why can't it?" he asks me. "Have you ever told the world what a piece of shit he really is?"

"I…" I shake my head.

"Didn't think so. You just kept quiet and let them lob all that bullshit at you because they were too goddamn cowardly to lob it at the person who deserved it."

"What else was I supposed to do?" I whisper. "I was just a kid, Logan. I didn't even really understand what was happening until my mom died. And then they tossed me into a group home. I think that's the first time I really understood just how fuckedup the whole situation was. The kids there…" I swallow. "What happened to my mom was all over the news. They made my life hell because I had this rich father who didn't want me."

"Jesus," Logan grunts, pulling me closer.

"I got myself kicked out of there pretty quickly. But the second home wasn't any better than the first. So they sent me to a family. I guess once the family realized my father wasn't going to change his mind and swoop in with a big check, they didn't have any use for me anymore either, so it was on to the next." I rest my head against his chest, sighing. "I got good at getting myself booted out of places before they decided they didn't want me. It was easier that way. As soon as I turned eighteen, I took my little stipend and my scholarship and raced off to college."

"It's time to stop running, angel," he murmurs, stroking his hand down my back. "And it's time to let yourself believe that there is a place for you. There are people for you. It's right fucking here.I'mright here. I'm not going anywhere. I don't give a flying fuck what they say. None of it fucking matters. This matters." He cups the back of my head, tilting it until I'm forced to look up at him. "We matter, Peyton."

"I…" I lick my lips and then nod.

"You going to tell them to fuck off and go harass the prick who actually cheated next time they bother you?" he asks, arching a brow at me.

"Maybe."

He grins. "Wanna get married and give them something else to talk about instead?"

I gape at him, my eyes wide. "What? No. We can't get married!"

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