Page 128 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

“Was it?” I asked, my voice sharper now, cutting through her defenses. “Because the way you talk about him—it doesn’t sound like you had much of a choice at all. Sounds to me like he groomed you for it.”

Her jaw clenched and she looked away, her breath coming faster. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“Don’t I?” I took a step closer, trying to keep my voice steady, calm, even though my anger was clawing at me. Not at her—at him. “Think about it, Sloane. Eighteen isn’t exactly the age of sound decision-making. And you had someone whispering in your ear, dangling luxury and comfort in front of you like a carrot. Scaring you about what would happen if you didn’t go along with what he was offering you. He made you think it was your idea, didn’t he?”

She stared at the floor, and I could see her hands trembling. “You don’t understand,” she murmured. “It’s too late, Logan. I’ve been this person for too long. It’s who I am.”

“No.” I stepped closer, making sure she couldn’t look away. “It’s who you were made tothinkyou are. That’s not the same thing.”

She shook her head, her voice shaky. “I can never be anything else.”

“You’re wrong,” I said, my voice firm. She finally looked up at me, and the rawness in her eyes nearly broke me. “What would you tell another girl, Sloane? Someone you met randomly who was eighteen, and she was telling you she sold herself at an auction…because her guardian encouraged her. Would you tell her she was horrible? Would you tell her she was a whore, that she deserved everything she had coming to her?”

She blinked, her breath hitching, and I could see the cracks forming in the walls she’d built around herself. She shook her head. “What? I—no! Of course, not.”

“Well, then why would you say that to yourself?” I said, stepping even closer. “Why are you different?”

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no words came out. For the first time, she looked unsure. And that, to me, was a win. Small, but a win.

CHAPTER33

LOGAN

Sloane had continued to pull away from me ever since our conversation about how she’d become an escort. I’d been doing everything I could to hold her close. But lately, it felt like I was clinging to sand—no matter how tightly I tried to grasp her, she was slipping right through my fingers.

She’d made me stay at her condo every night this week. I wouldn’t have minded, not before that talk, but now her place carried the lingering feeling of him—her uncle. It was like his presence was burned into the walls, and every time I stayed there, it felt like I was stepping into the devil’s lair.

More often than not, I’d wake up alone in her bed, the sheets cold and rumpled on her side. I’d find her in the studio down the hall, hunched over a canvas, dark circles carved under her eyes. She’d look at me like she hadn’t slept in years, but when I’d try to convince her to come back to bed, she’d just shake her head and keep painting.

“It helps,” she’d say, even though I could see the toll it was taking on her.

It was killing me to see her like this.

So, I decided it was time for us to move in together.

Even if she wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.

It was clear this place was haunting her. And since money was still being taken out of my account on a weekly basis, her uncle was still haunting her too.

What she really needed was to leave this place behind. And if she wasn’t going to make that decision on her own, I’d just have to give her a littlepush.

I probably needed some help, though, I thought as I stared at her pretending to read on the couch next to me. Grabbing my phone, I sent the guys a text.

Me: Remember how vague Hero was about the dogs? How do we feel about rats?

Camden: What was vague? They were literally just dogs.

Ari: Were they, though? Because I remember a lot more happening that night. Like the loss of my big toe.

Lincoln: You didn’t literally lose your big toe.

Ari: How do you know?

Lincoln: …

Lincoln: Because you’re sitting in my living room right now with flip-flops on. Definitely seeing two big toes.

Ari: Knew you had a foot fetish, Golden Boy.

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