15. Logan

15

LOGAN

"Teysha? Where the hell are you going?!"

I notice her retreating form as I'm blowing out cigarette smoke. I've stepped outside the restaurant to have a moment alone.

All the noises. The lights. The people .

The damn door wouldn't stop flying open every other second.

Everybody else at the table sat laughing and chatting like nothing. They were into their stupid date like it was the time of their lives.

Mace and Cash showed their old ladies a good time. Even fucking Ozzie was all over his newest girl.

Teysha practically wilted at my side. Her hurt feelings were impossible to miss. I could feel it in the dejected little breaths she shuddered out. She wanted so badly for me to be like them. For me to grab her hand and kiss her brow and make her feel special.

I wanted that for her too.

I'm just not the person who's able to give that to her .

Something she doesn't seem to understand. I've already told her she should want better.

She deserves better.

"Teysha."

Her name rumbles out of me as I flick my cigarette butt and start after her.

What the fuck does she think she's doing?

We're on the bad side of town and it's dark out. She's wandering around in tears with a huge ass target on her back. I catch up to her halfway across the backlot, cutting off her next step.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"It's none of your business."

It damn sure is my business.

"You really think it's smart to wander off? Does that sound like it's about to end well?"

She jerks her arm back so I can't grab her. "Better than being rejected over and over again."

"How many times do I have to tell you? I can't—" I stop myself, nostrils flaring, then realize where we are. An argument in the middle of a shoddy backlot after dark isn't the kind of attention we want to be drawing to ourselves. I release a ragged breath and try again. "Back to the apartment."

My reflexes outpace hers. I grab her by the hand before she can rebuff me. As soon as we're inside my pickup truck, I shoot off a text to Mace, letting him know we're bailing.

The entire drive home is full of tense silence.

Teysha's crammed herself into the farthest little corner of the passenger seat, like she can't stand the idea that she's sitting next to me.

That's alright. She can throw as many tantrums as she wants so long as they're at home .

I'm doing what's best for her even if she doesn't like it.

The sooner we're able to get this marriage dissolved, the sooner we'll be able to move on. She'll be able to return to her real home and carve out a new life for herself. A woman like her will be scooped up fast.

Teysha walks ahead of me up to the apartment. I step over the threshold to her dark hair whipping out of view as she rounds the corner into the hall. I toss my keys, phone, and wallet on the end table and twist on the lamp. I'm stalling for time, dragging out every second.

She's hell bent on forcing issues.

I'm fine avoiding all that shit altogether.

But that's not about to happen tonight, because the energy circulating the air predicts what's to come—we're about to have it out.

There's no mistaking where this is headed.

I scrub a hand over my exhausted face, taking a moment to absorb the setting. How different the dark, quiet apartment feels to the noisy, chaotic barbecue restaurant. It eases the sensory overload I'd felt earlier, trapped on a quadruple fucking date I didn't agree to.

Then I head for the second bedroom, where the rustling noises Teysha's making are coming from. I stop in the doorway, unsurprised to find her things being crammed into her duffle bag.

"Are you gonna attempt to leave every other day? 'Cuz this charade is growing old."

"I wouldn't have to attempt it if you'd just let me." She's on her knees, her back to me. Her shoulders droop with the sigh she releases. "Logan, I'm going to call my mama and ask her to come get me."

My insides give an unexpected twist. "Call her now? After avoiding her? "

"It's the only option left. I can't… I can't stay here anymore. I can't do this."

"You're not having to do anything. We're getting it dissolved. That's why you're still here."

She chokes out a laugh that's shaky and dark. Almost like she's laughing at herself. She's the joke. "Please stop reminding me."

"Once we get it annulled?—"

"I GET IT!" she screams 'til her voice breaks. She leaps to her feet clutching her duffle bag and rushes past me out of the room, her head bowed. "I get it, okay? I understand. Don't worry."

Thrown by the outburst, I track her down the hall into the living room. "You don't get that I'm only doing what's best for you. The marriage was a mistake. It was never supposed to happen. I've told you I've got no interest in being a husband. Some kind of family man with a wife and kids. I'm too fucked up for that shit. Will you put your bag down? Didn't we already establish you're not going anywhere tonight?"

"You don't want me… but you don't want me to go either!" She throws the bag to the floor and spins around to face me. Anguish rubs her voice raw, her eyes shining enough to show my reflection. "You don't want me to go 'cuz you want to make sure it's done! The mistake's erased from ever existing. I get it!"

"You're confused!" I shout over her. My patience vanishes, my glare narrows. "You think you're supposed to be with me, but you can't see you're wrong! I'm not the kinda guy you should be married to?—"

" You are who I'm married to!" She raises her voice to match mine, unafraid as tears finally fall free. " You're the man I've exchanged vows with, but you won't take them seriously!"

"Because it wasn't a real ceremony."

"It was under God's view! It was for his eyes to see. It was real to me!"

"You don't believe in divorce, that it?" I ask. "You think 'cuz some freak cult married us off it means we're forever?"

She shakes her head, the pain fresh on her face. "You'll get what you want. You'll be rid of me. You won't ever have to be with me again."

"You'll be better off for it."

"Just let me leave. Just let me go then."

"We've been over this, it's the middle of the?—"

"Why does it matter if it is?" she screams in interruption. "You don't want me so what do you care?!"

"I want what's best for you!" I lose all restraint, my hands coming out to grip both of her arms. I've stepped closer, giving her a shake, glaring in her face. "Don't you get it? Don't you see? I want what's fucking best for you! Stop being so damn hardheaded!"

"I know what's best for me! And I know that I wanted to be with you. But you shut me out at every turn. You make it clear you want nothing to do with me. Then you won't let me leave. I have whiplash from it all!"

"It's got nothing to do with wanting you or not?—"

"It's got everything to do with it! Because if you did, you would have me! But you don't. You don't want me. So I'll find some man out there who will!"

A trigger inside me is pulled like you would a gun. It goes off with a bang from the deepest, basest part of me and sets off a chain reaction. I growl, gripping her tighter. My pulse has surged, my body crackling from the heat that rushes me .

For a wild, unpredictable moment, I want to break her. Show her how misguided and foolish she is for ever wanting me. For thinking I'm the man she belongs with.

"You want me to have you?" I grit out. "You want me to show you what I'm really like? You think you can handle it?"

"Logan, you're hurting me—" She squirms in my grip.

But I only clench harder, leaning in 'til my face hovers inches from hers. "You want me to hurt you some more? You want me to ruin you? 'Cuz that's what I'm capable of!"

Teysha whimpers as I grab her by the face and force her lips to mine in a rough kiss. I spare no time being gentle. Being considerate like she deserves.

I bite her lip and thrash my tongue against hers. I hold her still, locked within my grip, and kiss her like I'm about to ravage her.

No sweetness, no affection to be found.

Teysha's immediately overwhelmed, shrinking, tugging away. She tries to turn her head but my hand slides into her hair. My fingers twine 'til I'm clutching her strands in a fist.

"Where do you think you're going?" I ask, so close we feel each other's breath on our lips. "You wanted this, right? You wanted me to have you?"

I kiss her again. Just as hard. Just as forcefully.

Teysha makes another strangled noise that's halfway between a whimper and words. Her fingers claw at my forearms and then chest as she struggles with what to do. If she'll fight harder or she'll concede this is what she wants.

This is the lesson she wants me to teach her. The only way she'll learn.

I can taste the salt in her tears, feel the quake of her lips pressed against mine .

The temper I've lost manifests in other ways—blood pumping, adrenaline racing, muscles twitching, I'm a wild animal that can no longer be tamed. I've descended into a headspace I've been avoiding. Dark impulses that haunt me.

I'm going to have Teysha tonight, and tomorrow when the sun comes up, I'll look in the mirror, riddled with shame for the things I've done. Just like I have every other morning she's been under my roof.

For now, I'll let myself enjoy it.

Every detail about her and the moment that's been on my mind nonstop.

Her full, bow-shaped lips that I've stared at a thousand times since I've met her. The way, being so close, her flowery scent permeates the space and makes me borderline feral. How her soft body feels gripped by my calloused hands.

Teysha clenches fingers shut in my t-shirt and twists her hips as if determined to jerk away. But then I realize she's both fighting and giving in at the same time. She's holding onto me the way I'm holding onto her.

She's in tears, then she's letting out a small little moan. I've dragged my mouth from hers and dropped more rough kisses to her throat. I lick up her tears and relish the salt and shove my hand under the hem of her dress.

"Is this how you want it?" I growl into her ear, groping her pussy. "'Cuz this is the only fucking way I give it. Spread your legs."

I kick them apart and tug her panties down her hips. Another little sound comes out of her, one of shock, as she goes still. She's inexperienced, she's only ever experienced what happened in the Chosen Saints, and that's never been more apparent than in this moment .

But I keep going.

I keep giving her what she's asked for.

"I'm going to fuck you," I tell her, sucking on her throat. "See that couch? I'm going to have you with your ass in the air and your pussy clenched around my dick."

Her misty eyes widen.

"Don't look surprised now. You asked for this."

My groping hands and biting kisses are met with a sharp cry. She's got no choice but to bear it as I cage her within my arms and let primal urges take over.

Teysha Baxter is a bright, beautiful woman who probably dreamed of her future husband making love to her in some candlelit bedroom sprinkled with rose petals. She probably expected him to whisper sweet fucking nothings in her ear and hold her afterward.

Her fantasies damn sure never included losing her virginity on some cult's sacrificial altar by a guy like me, made to do it.

Every time after that was no better—performances for Abraham's sick enjoyment 'til he got bored of that and then wanted her for himself.

I failed to stop him.

As rage and lust merge into a single driving force, flashbacks flicker in and out. Images I had hoped I'd scrubbed from memory. But they live on, returning in a flood. I push two fingers into Teysha's tight heat and graze my teeth against the delicate skin of her neck. Then I'm hearing the squeak of the mattress and her sobs as I lay motionless on the floor.

I'm forced to look into her tearful eyes and urge myself to stay hard. Everybody else in the room watches, their attention rapt and unblinking. I thrust into her and feel her body quake in discomfort and pain .

My fingers sink deep in her pussy as I grip her hair and grunt about how I'm about to fuck her hard and fast. I'm going to make her sorry she ever wanted this.

But the memories won't go away. They play one after another as I push her down on the couch and drag her hips back. My hands work to free my cock that's hot, throbbing, and hard. I'm turned on by what's about to happen… while also being sickened by the roiling in my stomach.

Teysha's gone still on the couch. She's right how I positioned her, face buried in the cushions, her curvy ass lifted high in the air. Perfect for me to spear into. For me to slip into the wet heat she offers and rut away.

The animalistic lust and rage claw at me from the inside. Urge me to do it and take what I want. Just like I've done in the past.

Teysha pushed for this. She refused to stop poking the bear when I warned her I wasn't good for her. She wanted to find out the hard way, so who am I to stop now?

I'm all over the fucking place as my rough hands palm her bare ass in between stroking myself. I'm breathing raggedly, barely able to think straight. A fucking angel and demon might as well be on my shoulders the way I'm caught between what to do next.

The bruises still feel too real. Too fresh.

Her tears still shine in her eyes when I remember the recent past. What we'd gone through together and what we'd suffered.

Things that were taken from me.

Her.

A frustrated growl rumbles out of me as I rear back and stick my hands in my hair. My eyes clench shut and will the bad images to go away. All these fucking memories I wish I could forget. That I've wished every night never happened in the first place.

Teysha sniffles and then finally moves from where I've placed her. She sits up on her knees, her brows pinched close to form that soft wrinkle between them, and she reaches a cautious hand for me.

"Logan… are you…"

"Don't touch me," I snarl, heaving breaths beyond my control. "Don't… just…"

I can't even finish a damn sentence. Probably because I've got no damn clue what I want to say. What I'm even feeling in this fucked up moment of rage, lust, confusion, and trauma all rolled into one.

But the only certainty that emerges from the hazy cloud surrounding me is hatred. The sheer and utter contempt I've got for Abraham and how I want to fucking annihilate him for what he's done to us.

You'd think Teysha would take a hint. She'd take this last get-out-of-jail free card and run far away from me. Flee into the second bedroom for the night and hope for morning where she could make another escape attempt.

She doesn't do any of those things.

Instead, her gentle hand glides along my forearm in a soothing touch. I open my eyes to her wounded, misty ones. The same that had been so startled minutes ago when I'd told her I'd have my way with her.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she says. "I know you don't… I know ever since he…"

She trails off there as if she can't bear to finish what's on her mind. The sadness in her tone, the small frown on her face, her dejected body language all speak volumes. They point to the conclusion she's drawn from this confusing moment where we search for what to do .

But she's got the wrong idea and doesn't even realize she does. She couldn't be more wrong.

It's not that I don't want her. Not even close.

…if you knew how much I really wanted you…

"Bed," I husk out. "Time for bed."

I get up off the couch, frustration corded in every tense muscle. I feel her trailing in my wake as I make it to the bedroom and rip my t-shirt over my head. She ambles over to her side of the bed, head bowed, hunks of her dark chocolatey hair blocking her face from view. Though I catch the hitched breaths and quick wipes of her eyes.

She's crying. All because of me.

Fuck.

Why is this shit so complicated? Why can't it be clean and easy? Why can't I make her understand?

"It's not you," I mutter, my back turned on her. "You keep thinking it is. But it's not."

"Thanks… that makes me feel better. It's not me. There's no reason why you don't want me. It just is."

"That's not it either—why won't you drop it?" I spin around, a vexed expression clenched onto my face. "Why do you insist on making it difficult?"

"Because you haven't said an honest thing tonight. You haven't made any sense."

"What have I said that doesn't make sense?" I snap, taking a step toward her.

She holds her ground despite the tremble her jaw gives. "You don't want me staying. You want me to know the marriage will be dissolved. But when I try to leave you don't let?—"

"'Cuz you're always trying to run off when you shouldn't! At the worst fucking times," I rant, drowning her out. My pulse gathers speed, seizing the chance to expel some of the pent up energy inside of me. "And you're too damn foolish to realize I'm doing what's best for you. I'm looking out for you. Preventing you from getting hurt by?—"

Me.

My mouth clamps shut before the last word barrels out. A word that would reveal too fucking much.

Understanding dawns in her big, expressive eyes. "You think you're protecting me."

"Yeah? From who?"

"You," she says stubbornly. "That's what you really mean, right? That's why you really push me away?"

"Teysha, it's time for bed. Go to fucking bed."

She mulls over the discovery in silence, her thoughts impossible to predict. Times like this I wish I were a mind reader. Her brow's still pinched, her lips still downturned into a frown. A couple runaway tears slide down the swell of her cheeks.

"You have the right to feel how you do. But so do I," she says after the lengthy pause. The anguish has vanished from her voice, replaced by a resoluteness that's sad and earnest. "All I know is that things were taken from me against my will. Many times. More times than I can remember. My whole life changed—not for the better—and I've been left to pick up the fragments and make sense of it all.

"Every time I've… I've been with a man has been forced on me. It was never anything I asked for. But I found comfort in one of the men who I was with. The same man I was married off to," she explains with a hard swallow. "Call it twisted, call it sick, call it wrong. I can't help that I started to feel things for him. For you. And, for the first time in my life—since all of that happened to me—I wanted for it to be my choice. I wanted that with you. I hoped… you would give it to me. I'm sorry for being so foolish. "

Teysha grabs her Bible and pillow, muttering something about sleeping in the other room tonight. I've fallen quiet hearing her confession and learning what I'd never considered. That she could really want this.

Not because of her religious beliefs. Not because she wanted to play pretend.

Because she wanted something real. She wanted something that was her choice.

I catch her by the arm as she passes me up on her walk toward the door. Holding her where she is, I peer into her face, every beat of my heart harder than the one before it.

"You want me?" I repeat slowly, searching her gaze. "You really want me?"

"I want what you made me feel when you were with me," she answers. "All those times. Except… I want it to be us together because it's what we're choosing."

How the fuck did I ever miss this possibility? How hadn't I considered it before?

This isn't like before, where I was forced to have her for the entertainment of others. This is Teysha making a choice for herself.

…and she chooses me.

At least in this moment. For right now, it doesn't matter if I'm good for her or not. She wants to be with me.

I'd be a liar to say I've got enough willpower to resist.

I take a slow step toward her, eliminating what little space exists between us. Her breath quickens. Mine does too, sounding like crushed gravel. My hand comes up to cup her cheek, cautious and measured as if I'm touching a precious artifact beyond any conceivable value.

She leans into my touch so subtly, you'd think she were afraid of it being real. She's as hesitant as I am to lower her defenses .

An energy ratchets up between us. Heat from tensions boiling over, accompanied by a spine-tingling wave of familiarity.

Maybe, just maybe, we understand each other better than anyone. Nobody else has been through what we have and survived the way we have.

We stand alone on our own island, separate from the rest of humanity.

Still searching for meaning in what we went through. Still faltering for a recovery that doesn't seem to come soon enough.

My hard gaze anchors to hers, drinking in every beautiful, unique feature. Hers flicks up to mine, just as attuned. Curiosity lives in her eyes, like she's lost in a thousand questions that run through her pretty little head.

I let myself be greedy. Let my gaze dip down the short slope of her button nose 'til I've reached her lips that are full and soft and that she won't stop nibbling on. What would she think if she knew how many times I've imagined pressing mine against them?

All the times I've woken after a night she's spent in my bed and I've barely been able to contain myself. I've rushed off to the bathroom to handle business, my lust-driven fantasies full of the things I wanted to do to her…

We exist in the suspended moment for what almost feels like an eternity. Then restraint snaps like a band pulled too tight, and I can't hold myself back another second. I crush my lips to hers, kissing her like I've done only in my dreams.

Deep. Hungrily.

A man that's got no business experiencing something so soft and sweet, yet I'm claiming it for myself anyway .

The Bible and pillow she's holding onto fall away, crashing to the floor. She arches up into me as my arm curls around her waist and oxygen strangles our lungs. We find a rhythm in the fierce kisses we trade, feeding off each other, fueling the passion that's exploded.

Fire burning out of control.

We melt together, the moment blurring into quick movements toward the bed. She fusses with the buckle on my belt, her hands shaking. I drag the straps of her dress down her shoulders, exposing the swell of her breasts and then taking one peak into my mouth.

She whimpers as my tongue flicks against the hardening bud. I lick and suck away, filling my hands up with her ass and hips. I've got her dress bunched at her waist, savoring how supple and squeezable her bare flesh feels against my rough palms.

My erection hardens to the point of pain, throbbing hard against the constraints of my denim.

How could she ever think I didn't want her?

I've got the opposite problem—I want her too damn much. More than I ever should.

She's got the kind of body you want to feel against you lying in bed and the kind of sweet smile you want to wake up to in the morning.

She smells like fucking flowers and has the purest heart of anybody I've known.

All things that shouldn't be afforded to me. That I'm not good enough for.

We tug off the rest of her dress and finish unbuckling my pants.

I ease her down on the bed without breaking contact. My mouth's traveled from her breasts to her neck, a sensitive spot of hers I quickly discover. Little moans pour out of her, fingers sliding into my hair, her hips canting up toward mine.

My cock's heavy and insistent between her thighs, throbbing away like crazy. Mere inches away from the slick wet heat it craves.

The same wet heat it remembers from the last time I had her. But those times were different. I want to show her it doesn't have to be like that.

It could be good. It could be fucking fantastic. She could feel things she never imagined. Pleasure that could make her see a galaxy of stars. I could be the man who gives that to her.

We lose ourselves in more passionate kisses. Mouths wide open, tongues lash in teasing. My wide hands canvas the curves of her naked body, pausing along the way to knead and squeeze her flesh. She trembles beneath me, fighting to keep up.

Explore.

Feel the muscles that flex and bulge. Trace the tattoos inked on my skin. Take me into her soft grip as her fingers wrap around my girth and I choke out a groan.

Immediately, she goes to let go, probably thinking she's done something wrong. My hand clamps over hers, returning it to my hot, thick cock, guiding her in a slow stroke up and down its length. Showing her how I like it to be done.

Our kisses grow wilder, more urgent, as heat floods me. The primal feeling clawing away only heightens. Teysha doesn't let up, her strokes making my already stiff cock ache that much more. Up and down the silken hard flesh, the pads of her fingers tantalizing against the network of protruding veins.

I rip my mouth away from hers, breathing raggedly, peering down at her. Her lids hang halfway, long eyelashes practically kissing her cheeks. Something tells me I've got the same drunken look about me.

"You really want this?" I ask huskily. "You want to feel this cock inside you?"

Her teeth bite down on her plump bottom lip, and she gives a nod. Her body wriggles, her thighs spreading even wider.

Fuck, once I've caught the scent of her arousal, I can't talk myself out of it. I can't stop myself from gripping my cock and guiding myself to her warm, slick pussy.

We both watch in silent, panting awe as we come together. Teysha's head tips back, her brows knitting at the feel of my thick girth fitting inside. It takes a concerted effort—every cell present in my tense, muscled body—to hold off from sinking any deeper.

I stop at the head and almost go fucking cross-eyed from how good it feels. In all the times we've been together, made to perform for Abraham, I'd never let myself enjoy it. I'd barely felt anything at all, under such duress it was impossible.

But this single moment changes everything.

It's like the glass house I've erected shatters. Walls I've put up to shield not just myself but Teysha.

The vow I made to end our marriage and push her away has been destroyed—how can I ever give this up? Her up?

I pause, sliding in and out a couple more times. Soaking in the warmth of her pussy. Studying how pleasure flickers across her pretty face and she undulates her hips impatiently.

"I'm enjoying you, baby," I growl, kissing her neck. "You and this sweet fucking pussy already got me in a chokehold."

She arches her back, begging for more. Pleading with me in breathy moans.

I withdraw to rub my cock along her swollen slit, coating myself in her juices. One last moment of teasing for the both of us. Then I slam myself inside, pushing past her tight walls 'til I'm bottoming out.

We release the same strangled breath we've been holding in. The same raw cry of pleasure. Hers, sharper. Mine, grittier and deeper.

The need in me intensifies. Dark, desperate need that unleashes itself and taints my blood. It surges through me as I let go and give into the urges I've fought so damn hard against.

My skin burns hot and sweat slicks itself onto my broad, tattooed chest and arms, down my corded back. I pin Teysha's knees back 'til they're damn near on either side of her head and then natural instincts take course. My hips slip into motion, pounding away.

Her pussy's impossibly tight, fluttering around me. Her walls slick and stretchy, gripping at me to draw me further in.

An invitation I gladly accept. I come in close and capture her lips in a kiss that's feverish and untamed. My hips piston forward, in and then out and then in even deeper.

Our skin slaps, our lungs sputter, our bodies crackle.

We fall into a rhythm that's far from the slow and deliberate exploration we had earlier. We're beyond patience as I grip her knees and drill into her. Teysha touches herself—she gives me the sexiest fucking show I've ever seen as one free hand gropes a breast and the other finds her clit.

I'm afforded a firsthand demonstration as the beautiful woman beneath me explores her own body. She tweaks a nipple and rubs away at her clit, defiantly meeting my gaze, finding a way to drive me even more fucking insane.

A growl revs from my chest. I fist her hair and force her mouth to mine. I pillage her in every way possible, lapping at her mouth, groping her heaving breasts, slamming my hips into hers.

My thrusts come deep and punishing. My kiss equally bruising.

Teysha whimpers and curls her legs around my back, matching my chaotic energy. It's how we race toward the finish line.

I flip her over onto her stomach and sink back into her. More shared groans fill the space of the bedroom. More skin slapping and sweat dripping.

I grip her hips and buck into her. She keens and clenches tight around me. Her hair's a mess, a tangled, dark chocolate whirlwind that's draped across her bare shoulders. That's fallen into her face as she shudders and angles her body 'til it's tilted half upside down. She's buried herself in a pillow to silence her own screams.

Screams I use as fuel. Screams that drive me even harder.

I switch up my stroke, grinding into her, reaching under her to play with her clit. She's soaking wet, so damn swollen and slick.

"Fuck, baby," I groan, "come for me. Be my fucking good girl and come on my cock."

The dirty words do her in. They unlock the final level to her pleasure.

Teysha falls apart before my eyes. The permission I need to do the same. As she writhes underneath me, crying into the pillow, pussy fluttering around my cock, I bury myself deep. The pressure that's built up in my balls releases. I shoot my seed inside her snug, warm hole, feeling like I've fucking died and gone to heaven.

Nothing on this earth has ever felt as good as coming inside Teysha's pussy.

I collapse on top of her, barely able to catch my breath. The aftereffects from my orgasm ping through my body, making my every muscle twitch and spasm. Teysha's no different, giving a shudder underneath me.

Coming down from what just happened takes us a moment.

It leaves me in a surreal state, my mind hazy. I brush aside the damp hair from her bare back and press my lips to her shoulder blade for a kiss.

Unexpected and unplanned.

A need as innate as breathing washes over me. The need to take care of her.

I wrap my arms around her front and nuzzle my face into her. We lay still like this for a while, entangled on the bed 'til our breathing steadies out.

We're silent but acutely aware of the barrier that's been broken. The shield I've put up has crumbled and everything I was trying to keep out is slowly trickling in.

On some level, Teysha knows. Her expressive eyes gleam with hope. "I'm fucked up too."

Fuck sounds so wrong coming from her lips that I let out a chuckle. "What did you just say?"

"I'm fucked up too, like you said you are," she repeats. "I'm not like I was before. I don't know how to be that person anymore."

Though I might get what she means, she needs to know there's still hope for her .

"You're gonna get better," I offer. "You're gonna move on from what happened."

"Maybe we can together. Maybe… maybe we can heal each other."

She sounds so damn sure about it. So damn certain we can.

For the moment, I let myself believe her.