"We're not—it's not just?—"
"Oh my god." Angela starts laughing. "This is perfect. You're screwing your childhood friend. Does he know you're a mess? Does he know about all the other club guys?"
"He knows everything about me."
"And hestillwants you?" Trisha's skepticism is written all over her face. "Come on, Ingrid. You really think this is going to last? You really think Gunnar's going to want to keep you around once the novelty wears off?"
The words hit like she’s slapped me in the face.
"That's not?—"
"It is," Angela interrupts. "Look, we love you, but let's be real. You have a type—club guys who make you feel special for like five minutes before they remember you're just another girl. Gunnar's probably the same."
"He's not."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"How?" Trisha demands. "Because he said so? Because he was sweet for a weekend? Please. Remember when you thought Bjorn was different too? Remember how you told us he was the one?"
I remember.
God, I remember.
"Gunnar's not Bjorn," I say, but my voice wavers.
"Right. He's just another club guy who'll fuck you until something better comes along." Angela's tone is almost pitiful. "We're just trying to protect you, babe. We've seen this pattern. You fall hard, you get hurt, you come crying to us. And we're tired of watching you do this to yourself."
"So what?" My voice rises. "You want me to stay alone forever? Never try again because I've been hurt before?"
"We want you to be realistic," Trisha says. "You're Fenrir's daughter. The VP's baby girl. Club guys are either too intimidated by that or they see you as a conquest. Either way, it never works out."
"Maybe because I kept choosing the wrong ones."
"And you think Gunnar's different? He's been watching you spiral for how long now? If he really cared, he would've made a move years ago."
The comment is meant to hurt.
And it does.
Because she's not entirely wrong—Gunnar did wait.
Did watch me fall apart and put myself back together over and over.
But he also showed up every single time I needed him.
Never judged.
Never left.
Just... stayed.
"You know what?" I set down my water bottle. "You're right. He did wait. He waited because he actually gives a shit about me. Because he wanted to make sure I was ready. Because he's not like every other asshole who just saw an easy target."
"Or," Angela says slowly, "he waited because he's playing the long game. Make you think he's different, make you fall for him, then break your heart worse than anyone else could."
The words are poison.
