LOGAN
He was lying on his side, one arm bent beneath the pillow like it belonged there, like he belonged here.
His dark lashes fanned out against his cheekbones in a way that should be illegal for someone that infuriatingly male.
His lips were slightly parted. He had no idea what was going on inside my head right now at full sarcasm mode.
God, how had I managed to turn last night into a melodramatic episode of Save The Pathetic Girl From Her Own Brain?
I rubbed a hand down my face, feeling the ghost of tears I didn’t even remember shedding. Typical, classic Isabella.
Spend years building walls so high even an emotional earthquake wouldn’t be able to knock them down... only to shatter like glass because a nightmare decided it would be amusing to throw me back into hell, and worse? Lo
