Page 9 of Puck'N Enemy
Dylan’s hands curl into fists at his sides. His face screws up in pain like someone had gut-punched him.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a shaky voice. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You’re sorry?” I shout at once. “For what, Dylan? For breaking every promise you ever made me?”
“Logan,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You betrayed me anyway,” I say bitterly.
The air is heavy with tension, thick enough to choke on.
Every muscle in my body screams at me to kick Dylan out and cut him out of my life for good but my chest still aches at the sight of him.
He’s here, my mind whispers.Dylan is alive and here for you.
I hate these feelings.
And I hate the way Dylan still looks at me, like I’m the only person in the world who matters to him.
The clash of emotions makes me reckless.
“Get out of here,” I shout, letting my anger take control of me. “I don’t ever want to see you again, so just leave!”
A choked noise escapes him as he takes a step inside the room.
But his courage fades as he meets my furious gaze again. He hesitates, giving me a glimpse of the crack in his façade. He’s dying to cross the distance between us, but he knows he can never do it.
His shoulders shake from silent sobs. Tears fill up those emerald-green eyes as he nods stiffly. Swallowing hard, he turns away and quickly walks out of the room.
Dylan disappears like he was never here.
A part of me wants to chase him and force him to answer the question that’s never stopped burning in my heart.
“Why did you betray me when you still can’t watch me in pain?” I whisper, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.
4
Logan
Two weeks later
The diner buzzes with the chatter of excited students. It’s the weekend, and my teammates have swarmed into Millie’s Diner for lunch.
I lean back in my chair, my left leg stretched out, nursing a tumbler of iced black coffee. Laughter erupts over something Mitchikov says, attracting everyone’s attention to us.
“Can I get you something else, Logan?” A familiar voice calls my name.
Looking up, I see it’s Liam. Dressed in a white shirt and a navy apron, he grins and politely gestures at the menu card before me.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “You need to be eating more than coffee to recuperate from your injury.”
“Listen to my boyfriend,” Bastian says from beside me. “He’s the smartest one among us.”
A chuckle escapes me. Even though Liam works at the diner part-time, he’s a full-time master’s student at the Physics department.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell them. “Besides, I’m meeting my family later for dinner, so I don’t want to load up on anything too heavy.”
