Page 110 of Wicked Devotion
“Everything has changed, Logan, and I’m tired of pretending it hasn’t.”
I knew I was right. He’s going to leave.
When he yanks his arm out of my grip, it feels as if he’s building a wall between us. Brick by brick, while I can’t do anything but watch.
“If you want to talk, then go find someone else to do it with. I’m done talking. I tried, Logan, I really tried. You and Lily were all I ever wanted, but even I have to accept the truth at some point. Because sometimes, you give and give and give to a person who only knows how to take.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” I don’t want to admit what his words do to me and how much they hurt. “All bark and no bite. If I’m such a selfish piece of shit, why did youstay all this time? You could have left instead of clinging to me like a pathetic puppy, spared us all this goddamn nonsense.”
“Because I am fucking dumb, Logan. Delusional, naïve, or whatever apparently very fitting description you always throw my way,” he yells, biting back tears. “Because my worst quality is that I always believe things can change. Thatpeoplecan change, that they’ll give you back just the tiniest bit of the love you give them,” he says, his voice full of resentment.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlie ushering the rookies away from the training grounds. I should do the same. Leave, because nothing good will come out of this, but the anger rushing through my veins is already clouding my judgment.
Rain pours down on us, making it easier to tell myself that no tears are running down Max’s cheeks.
“I heard every word that night, Logan. Every. Single. Word. How can you be so open with her? How can you say these things to Lily after so little time? Don’t you think I deserve the same?”
I open my mouth to answer him, but Max yells over me.
“Lily was supposed to complete us, to make the good thing we had even better. I always told her how there is no me without you, and every goddamn night I fell asleep wishing that you’d see it too. You never did. I guess you were just looking for the right opportunity to get rid of me, but I won’t let you fucking replace me, Logan. I won’t lose you both.”
I want to snap back, to yell at him to get his damn head back on straight because there is no way on earth that someone can be so confidently wrong, but all I manage to do is what I’ve been taught.
Attack, because I’d rather kill both of us before telling Max about all the nights I lie awake next to him, saying the same things I said to Lily, and so much more. Would rather make the scars on my knuckles rip open instead of admitting thatthey are the product of all those feelings I don’t allow myself to feel, a result of the fucking confusion he causes deep inside of me.
Max blocks my hit, and I stumble back, looking from his hand to mine.
“Is it because I am a fucking guy?” he yells, as if months of repressed anger suddenly explode out of him. “Cause you don’t seem to mind when you’re balls deep in my guts.”
For a second, the complete bullshit coming out of his mouth makes my head spin. Soon, my confusion turns into pure, unbridled rage, just as thunder starts roaring in the distance.
“No, you’re just too much,” I snarl, shoving him so hard he trips. “You talk too much, love too much. You never know when to stop.”
I’m not worthy of your love.
I straddle his hips, and my knuckles begin to bleed as they catch on his teeth.
“I hate you so fucking much.”
On some days, I need your presence so badly I loathe you for making me feel this way. For making me feel at all.
40
MAX
“Oh, so I am the problem,” I force out, turning my head to the side to spit out some blood, and Logan stops his fist before it collides with my face. “I’m not too much, Logan. Maybe you’re just not enough, and someone has to compensate for your coldness. And you know what? Sometimes, I fucking hate you, too.”
Wet, trembling hands close around my throat.
“You hate me? You want this to end?” Logan’s grip tightens, and I try to control my breathing to make use of the little air I get. “Because I told you how this is going to end, Max.”
I know how Logan looks when he kills. How his eyes seem to turn a shade darker, how his finger twitches before he pulls the trigger. I know every damn microexpression, and the man staring down at me doesn’t look like the cold-blooded killer I am so familiar with.
Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, or maybe I just don’t care if he goes through with it. For months, he’d break my heart just to stitch it back together, and then, two days ago, he broke it and left it to rot away inside of me.
The edges of my vision go dark as I speak up, weak, the words cut off but still clear enough for him to hear.
“I love you, Logan. I love you so much it fucking hurts, and I don’t know if dying would be worse than continuing like this.”
