Gutted.
I knew it.
I saw it in your face.
And I hated you even more that you’d made me put you through this.
If you’d only listened.
If you’d taken us far from here.
We could have hidden away together.
That’s where I’d always wanted to be—hidden away with you.
I knew the second you saw the gaudy, disgusting ring on my finger.
A shackle that maimed.
“What the fuck is that?” Your voice was so hard. Shocked and outraged.
I was outraged, too.
“I’m Jarek Urso’s wife. What did you think, you could crawl back here, and I’d just be waiting for you? How could you come here? After what you did? You stole from my father. You killed my uncle.”
How could you?
How could you?
God, you were still so beautiful out there beneath the hidden stars, even with your face contorted with disgust.
I’d wanted to go to you.
Fall on you.
Beg you to take me away from this horrible place.
I had to guard myself from your words. From the desperate pleas that fell from your mouth.
I couldn’t listen.
I couldn’t hear.
Because I’d bartered my life for yours, and I hated you for that, too, and it was now my responsibility to see to it that you never returned again. Just your standing there could have been a death sentence.
So I’d forced out the bitterness that was bottled inside me, tried to claim the lies as truth. “Don’t touch me! Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me. You were never good enough for me, and we both know it.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I would have died for you.”
Your words broke through, and my soul screamed thatI was dying for you.
“That’s good because you’re dead to me.” I’d forced myself to take a step away. “I hate you, Logan Lawson, and I don’t want to ever see you again.”
Then I’d turned and run.
And that was the night my North Star went dim.
FORTY-SEVEN