Chapter 28 You’ve Ruined Me #2
“I think I should go.”
He jackknifes off the bed. “Please don’t go.”
“I think it’s for the best if I do.” My voice cracks, but I force it steady.
With one arm clutched across my chest I bend to snatch my bra off the floor, and I slip the straps over my shoulders with fumbling fingers.
Next, I find my jeans and sweater. What was I thinking?
He’s not over her. How could he be? She was his wife.
The mother of his child. Every time he looks at Josie, he sees her.
I’m not competing with a ghost—I’m not competing, period.
Logan yanks the blanket away and crawls to the end of the bed. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and he spins me around. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Please. Understand.” The words are a frantic plea, tumbling over each other. “Brie—”
The sound of my name, ragged on his lips, almost undoes me.
Almost. My chest aches as I inhale, shaky and hollow.
I had reservations about Logan for many reasons, and this is what happens when you don’t trust your gut.
“I’ve taken second place in a lot of things in my life, but I won’t be second place in someone’s heart. ”
His eyes flash, desperate, pleading. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean it. Please—”
“I get it.” I blink back the tears. “She was your wife. Your everything. You don’t just get over that.
And I’m not asking you to. But I can’t be second choice.
This was fun.” I wave a hand between us.
“Maybe I’ll see you around.” Before he can answer, I wrench free and bolt, practically flying down the stairs.
I did the right thing, right? He called me another woman’s name.
By the time I jam my feet into my boots, there’s a loud thump upstairs, followed by frantic footsteps. I fumble with the deadbolt, swing open the door—just as Logan barrels down the stairs, bare-chested, boxer briefs, all muscle and regret.
“Brie! Wait!”
I slam the door before he can reach me. My SUV beeps open, and I dive inside, shoving it into reverse without a warm-up. Out the windshield, Logan stands on his porch, shoulders sagging, heartbreak etched across every line of him.
Two blocks down the road, I veer my SUV toward the curb, and with shaky hands throw it into park.
The adrenaline crashes, leaving nothing but ache and angry tears streaking down my cheeks.
What the hell was I thinking? Why did I not see this earlier?
Why did I even get involved? Why? I was fooling myself to think there could be something between Logan and me.
I deserve more. I deserve first place. Not a consolation prize.
Not a placeholder. I won’t settle. Not with this.
In my gut, I knew I should have stayed away.
Logan Crawford is nothing but trouble. Sexy, caring, kind, compassionate, a great kisser, even-better-in-bed kind of trouble.
It’s even worse when he holds my heart in his hands and won’t let go.
Back at my house, I’m sprawled out on my living room floor, staring up at a twinkling pink ornament spinning on my Christmas tree.
He said his wife’s name. Honestly, I don’t even know if it would sting less if he’d said some random ex’s name…
or even a celebrity crush. At least then it wouldn’t mean so much.
But his wife? The woman he built a life with, the mother of his child.
That’s a whole different kind of pain. Was he thinking of her the entire time we were together?
Every kiss. Every touch. Every laugh. I’ve never had someone call me the wrong name before, especially while in bed together.
It’s a little disorienting. One thing is clear.
He’s not over her. How could he be? He was with her for fourteen years.
Then one day—gone. Not coming back. I can understand.
But that doesn’t make it easier. And I don’t want to be someone’s second choice.
Been there, done that, collected all the silver medals along the way.
I want to be someone’s first. Not a warm body to pass the time.
I want gold. I want first place in someone’s heart.
I want to be chosen. And I won’t settle for anything less.
As much as I’ve come to enjoy Logan’s company—his smile, his laugh, the way he makes me feel—I can’t keep pretending it’s enough. Because it isn’t.
My phone chimes with an incoming message, jerking me out of my spiral. My heart lurches. Logan? I pull it from my pocket and glance at the screen and frown. Instead, it’s a message from Willa.
Willa
Where are you? It’s Christmas ham bingo night.
Brie
Sorry. I’m not feeling the best. I’m going to stay home.
Her reply pings back instantly, but I don’t look.
Wallowing is the only thing I want to do tonight.
I nudge the ornament with one finger, watching my fractured reflection warp and spin along with the room.
It feels fitting—my life, spinning in circles.
A month ago, I was on track to land my dream promotion.
My favorite Christmas blogger was in town.
I was on the verge of falling in love. And now?
I’m lying on the living room floor, poking at an ornament while everything unravels.
My promotion is slipping through my fingers.
I practically stalked a woman for an interview that turned into an exposé on my personal life.
I couldn’t get the Santa my boss really wanted and instead had to settle for a second-rate Santa.
And the man I let myself fall for is still not over his deceased wife.
This is what I get for losing sight of my priorities.
I should have focused on the festival, not Logan. Merry freaking Christmas to me.