I was enough, damn it. I’d spent years feeling inadequate in life. I’d let Wallace make me feel so small that I believed him, let myself believe that I wasn’t the amazing woman that I was today.
Instead of worrying about what I couldn’t control in this moment, I closed my eyes and counted my breaths, feeling the movement of my chest, until I fell asleep. Knowing I needed all the strength it would take to help Logan out of the darkness trying to drag him under, like it had me.
When I woke up a few hours later, I saw a text from Tate saying that Logan was breaking and that I needed to get over there as soon as I could. As fast as I possibly could, I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and ran out the door.
Logan was sitting on the living room floor. Everything around him was torn in disaster. The coffee table had been flipped, the glass shattered on the blue carpet. Frames had been scattered around the room, like they’d been thrown in every direction.
“Oh, Logan.” I wept for him, for the hurt he was suffering from.
He didn’t turn, hearing my voice, and my gaze found his friends. Tate was sporting a new bruise under his right eye, and Callum’s hair looked like he’d been pulling at it for hours.
“Logan.” I slowly walked closer to his collapsed form on the ground.
Silence answered me.
“I’m here, baby.” I tried again. Even if he didn’t answer me, I knew he’d heard me. I just hoped it reached him beneath the quiet rage humming around him.
