I always could.
“She’s not yours, Gunner. I’m going to take her this time,” I whisper under my breath, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Not loud.
Not enough for anyone to hear.
Just enough for me.
Just enough to remind myself what’s real.
Because that’s the thing nobody understands.
Not her.
Not him.
Not any of these idiots walking around with drinks in their hands and fake smiles on their faces.
They don’t know what we almost had.
They don’t know what she meant to me.
What she still does.
My chest tightens as I watch her laugh—head tipped back, hand still in his, her body turned toward him like he’s the center of her world.
That’s bad.
Ugly.
IT’S WRONG!
That should be me.
It should’ve always been me.
I saw her first that night. But then, he came along and poisoned it.
Stupid fuck.
He filled her head with bullshit and dragged her away from what we could’ve had.
From what we should’ve had.
“She thinks she’s safe from me,” I murmur, shaking my head slowly.
A bitter smile tugs at my mouth.
“She thinks I’m just going to let him have her.”
A laugh bubbles up—low, broken, a little too sharp—and I swallow it down.
Because no.
No, no, no.
That’s not how this works.
