I snorted a half sob, half chuckle. “Oh, right, now you don’t want me anymore—now that I’m damaged goods, now that you broke my heart and sent me off to get run down!” I poked my finger at his chest. “You should have stopped me from driving! Stopped me from leaving! Stopped me from ever falling in love with you!”

I slapped my hand over my mouth, breathless, speechless. Love? I gasped, staring dumbly at the ground, tears prickling my eyes.

“No.” It spilled in a tiny whisper from my lips. No no no. I ached to take it back—not my confession to him, but from my own ears. I never loved him, did I? My head was spinning, and before I could figure it out, his rough, broken voice penetrated the silence.

“Cassandra.”

I lifted my head slowly, meeting his glossy eyes that held so much tenderness I had to force myself to look away. It brought forth too many memories of the last few months I’d spent with him. I sucked in a chilly breath of air and released it again and again.

My hands trembled as I held them up to stop him from coming any closer when I heard his footsteps in the snow.

“No.” I wiped away a stray tear. I needed to stay strong. I took another breath and met his gaze. “You don’t get to be all nice now. You don’t get to waltz back into my life as though nothing happened. I’m tired of this—tired of you playing games with me.” My chin quivered, my teeth catching my bottom lip to calm it. I took another breath, closing my eyes as it refilled my lungs.

“You drive me insane. Do you understand that? Do you realize what you’ve done to me?” My hands flew up, gripping the sides of my head, pulling at my hair. “You made me feel all those things. Why?” My voice grew louder as the war raged inside me, and my arms dropped to my sides. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you make you me care about you? Why? Answer me!”

He said nothing.

Unable to control myself any longer, I barreled forward and smacked him hard against the chest. “Answer me, God damn it!”

It felt good, but I knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t me. I didn’t know who I was anymore.

Logan didn’t even stumble back. His strong body took each blow with ease as he let me unload on him.

“Why? Please, tell me why!” I screamed, shoving him again and again. “I wanted you, all of you, and it was just a game! Why? Do you like seeing me suffering—dying inside every time you’re near? Because even after what you did, what you said to me, I still feel you there, in my broken heart. You’re a part of me, and I hate you for that! So tell me why! Please!” I continued, tears raining down my face, my palms banging against his chest over and over until my head dropped forward and rested there.

“I thought you were different, but it was all a game,” I finished, panting.

My voice was not my own. Defeated, my knees gave out, causing me to slump down. He caught me before I hit the ground and pulled me up, cradling me in his arms, where I cried. It hurt everywhere as he carried me inside.

Blood pounded in my ears and nausea settled over me as my anger washed away, and I was left with my raw, vulnerable pain, laid out for him to see. With my head buried in his neck, tears covering my face, I let it all out in a shattered whisper.

“You terrify me. I fight so…so hard to keep my guard up, to push you away… even if that means you’ll hate me. Everyone can hate me for pushing you away…but they don’t know. They don’t feel it. It hurts. Everything hurts, ‘cause I miss you. I miss us.” I shook my head violently. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“Shhh, you need rest right now.” We were in my bedroom, and he laid me down on the mattress gently.

“I know what you’re doing, and I know that it’s working. But I can’t…I can’t, Logan, please…” My eyelids were heavy, a fog setting in as they drifted shut. I wasn’t sure whether I said it aloud, but I longed for him to hear me as I repeated “Don’t hurt me” until I was taken away into the darkness.

Chapter Ten

Naked

Bright, glaring light assaulted my eyelids, causing my face to scrunch, squeezing them tightly. With a zombie-like groan, I pulled away from my liquor-fueled slumber. In one swift motion, I whipped my pounding head around, burying it under my pillow. The movement was too quick and my head too heavy; nausea hit instantly. I choked down the rising bile and grabbed my head.

“Oh, God,” I croaked.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

My eyes flew open, my body painfully rigid.

What is he doing here?

“On the side table. Drink all of it.”

I lifted my head, hair wild around my face, just enough to see the tall glass of water with two oval pills sitting beside it. As much as I wanted to tell him to get the hell out, my throat was too parched.

First things first: with a trembling hand, I lifted the water slowly and savored the coolness breaking through, hydrating me back to the living. I popped the pills a second later, then lay back with a sigh, twisting around to stare at the ceiling. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him right then, and the memory of the previous night was still nothing but a blur.

A sharp burn tore through my stomach, followed by a low growl. Definitely should’ve eaten more last night. I rubbed my hand over my abs under the blanket and froze.

What the hell!?

With my heart rate picking up as my thought process jolted back to life, blood rushed to my cheeks, pushing me faster through the fog. I sat up on my elbows, clutching the blanket to my chest, and narrowed my eyes at the infuriatingly beautiful man staring back at me, unaffected.

“Where the hell are my clothes!?”

Logan sat in the armchair across from my bed, his leg slung over his knee, giving nothing away in his expression.

“You were soaked to the bone.”

“So you stripped me down?”

“To be honest, you did most of the work for me.”

What? What happened last night?

Unable to support myself any longer, I fell back onto the pillows and closed my eyes, begging the memories to return. Logan remained silent, as if waiting for it all to come back to me. It wasn’t long before I was watching a slow-moving picture in my foggy mind, reliving the events of the past night. It was all there: the memory of me screaming at him, telling him to screw me, and then attacking him until I could stand no longer. I had no clear recollection what all I’d said to him, only remembering the image of him standing there, stoic, taking each blow I delivered to his hard chest.

I groaned for at least the third time that morning, holding my head and rolling to my side, feeling worse about myself.

“Can you leave now, please?” My voice was hollow, and nothing more than a defeated whisper. I was too tired to fight with him.

“Not yet. We need to talk first.”

“I have nothing to say.” I couldn’t look at him now. I hated even talking to him—not because I was angry about New Year’s or embarrassed by my actions; no, it was worse. I couldn’t bear to be around him because seeing him there for that one small moment in my bedroom, so gorgeous in a plain white tee and black pajama pants, caused my entire existence to still call out to him.

“I have plenty to say, and I need for you to listen. Understand?” His voice grew darker, and my anger brewed.