Chapter Twelve
Mackenzie
What you want from me is unrealistic
But I run around in circles, tryna fix it
You tell me I'm wrong and I listen
Convince me that I should be different
Yeah, I love you and I wish I didn't
‘Critic’ - Avery Anna
The sunlight streaming through the windows wakes me up, sharp and intrusive, the kind that makes it impossible to pretend you can fall back asleep. It slips across the bed in warm stripes, highlighting the tangled mess of sheets around me.
My body aches in ways that are both pleasant and maddening, a soreness that keeps my mind replaying flashes of last night whether I want it to or not. Every movement is a reminder my muscles stretching, my thighs tight, my skin still faintly smelling like his.
I roll over, instinctively reaching for the solid warmth that should be next to me, but my fingers brush only cool sheets. The space beside me is empty. Too empty. The impression of his body in the mattress is already fading.
A heavy breath leaves me as I push myself upright.
My gaze lands on the dresser, and without thinking, I cross the room.
My hands move on autopilot, pulling a t-shirt from the top of the stack.
It is soft from years of wear, the fabric clinging faintly with the scent of his skin, soap, leather, and that something that is just him.
I tug it over my head, and for a moment, I close my eyes, letting myself breathe him in.
My lips even twitch with a smile before reality slams back into me.
I step into the living room and the sight hits me like a blow.
My clothes from last night are draped over the couch in a careless pile, and sitting on top of them is a single piece of paper.
My stomach dips low, dread curling there before I even move closer.
I glance toward the window, and the absence of his bike in the driveway is confirmation enough that something is wrong.
The paper is small, plain. I pick it up, my pulse already racing.
There are only two words on it.
I’m sorry.
“No.”
The word slips from my lips before I realize I’ve spoken.
It’s not enough, not even close. My eyes drop, and that’s when I notice my phone sitting on top of the pile, neatly plugged in like some kind of cruel courtesy.
I snatch it from the charger with shaking hands, flipping it over and opening my messages.
My thumbs move faster than my brain.
You are a fucking coward and a piece of shit. I hate you. Forget that you ever knew me.
The words are venomous, and I mean every one, even though I can barely see the screen through the tears streaming hot and fast down my face. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, trying to keep it together, but the lump in my throat is too thick.
I shove my legs into my shorts, each motion jerky and rushed, just wanting to get out of here. My fingers close around my shirt from last night, but when I see the fabric is torn, I drop it back onto the couch. Fine. He can lose the shirt I am wearing. It’s the absolute least he owes me.
Grabbing my bag, I step outside. The air feels sharper than it should, cool against my flushed cheeks.
I can’t stay in his house for another minute.
My phone is at least alive enough to call an Uber, but when I open the app, I realize I have no idea what address to put in.
I glance back at the house for the number, feeling ridiculous and raw and painfully aware of how I must look—bare legs, borrowed shirt, hair a tangled mess. Every inch of me screams walk of shame.
“Mac?”
The sound makes me freeze. My head jerks up to see Shaina leaning out the window of her car, parked just a few feet away.
Great.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, brows pulling together in confusion. Her gaze flicks from me to the house, and I see the exact second the pieces fall into place. Her mouth forms a silent oh.
“My brother around?” she asks, voice cooler now.
I shake my head, trying to keep it together, but my chest feels tight. Before I can stop it, the tears spill over again, unstoppable.
“Shit. Get in,” she says, leaning over to push open the passenger door.
I slide into the seat, the scent of her perfume filling the small space.
“Where are you staying?” she asks once I’m buckled.
“I moved back in with my parents,” I admit, swiping at my cheeks, “but I can’t show up like this.”
“Got it. Say less.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and she pulls the car into gear, merging smoothly onto the road. She doesn’t push me for details during the drive, and I’m grateful. Silence feels like the only thing keeping me from falling apart entirely.
When we pull into the parking lot of one of the sleek new apartment complexes in town, I blink in confusion. Jena told me these were impossible to get into, reserved for the kind of people who actually had their lives together.
Shaina throws the car into park. “You’re staying with me. I have a three-bedroom and it’s just me. Perk of selling most of the units. I could use some company, and you look like you could too.” She’s already out of the car before I can muster a response.
I follow her to the front doors, my feet dragging. Halfway there, I reach out and catch her arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
She turns her head, giving me that trademark side-eye of hers. “We both know I don’t do shit I don’t want to.”
The elevator ride is quiet but fast, the air smelling faintly of lemon cleaner. Fifteenth floor. She unlocks her door and gives me a quick tour it’s got high ceilings, big windows, tastefully mismatched furniture that makes the place feel lived in without being messy.
We settle on the couch, my body sinking deep into the cushions.
“I appreciate you letting me stay here, but I can’t afford it,” I say, twisting my hands in my lap. “And honestly, I think I’ll be leaving town soon anyway.” I can’t keep running into him. I can’t live with this constant whiplash.
“Fuck, no. He doesn’t get to run you out of town a second time.” She shifts to face me fully, crossing her legs. “Alright, I just have to say… you are way too goddamn hot to let my idiot brother keep you tied in knots.”
“It’s not that easy,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “It hurts too much.” The tears come again, quiet and angry, and I hate myself for it. For letting him still have this much power.
“I don’t know what the hell his problem is,” she says, shaking her head. “He never told any of us. But that’s his problem, not yours. There are a million guys who would fight like hell to be with you.”
The problem is, I don’t want any of them. Not even a little. Last night, I thought we were finally back together. And then, just like before, he pulled the rug out from under me.
“Here’s the plan.” Shaina leans in, her grin turning wicked.
“Logan is either going to get his shit together, or he isn’t.
You don’t let him touch you again unless his ass is claiming you.
And while you wait, you make it so damn miserable for him to be at the club that he’ll either get his shit together or stay the hell away. ”
It’s a plan that’s equal parts petty and self-preserving, and I can’t deny that I like it.
I take a deep breath, feeling some of the ache in my chest start to shift. She’s right. Completely right.
Logan will regret the day he ever decided to screw with me.