Page 149 of Pucked Around and Found Out

“You deserve better.”

“Maybe,” I agree. “But better isn't what I want. I want him.”

“Even when he chooses torture over being here?”

“Even then,” I confirm, even though the admission hurts.

Harper climbs onto the bed beside me carefully, pulling me into her arms.

“Then I'll be here,” she says. “When he breaks your heart again—and he will—I'll be here to pick up the pieces.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“That's what sisters are for.”

We sit like that for a long time, me crying quietly, her holding me together while I fall apart.

Eventually, exhaustion wins.

My eyes get heavy, my body demanding rest.

“Sleep,” Harper murmurs. “I'll stay. And if that asshole shows up, I'll decide whether to wake you or kick him out.”

“Harper—”

“I'm kidding,” she says, but I'm not sure she is. “Sleep, Tor. You need it.”

As I drift off, one thought circles through my mind:

He saved my life but couldn't stay to watch me wake up.

He's torturing the woman who tried to kill me instead of being here.

And I'm going to forgive him when he finally shows up.

What does that say about me?

What does that say about us?

And I don't have an answer.

Don't know if there is one.

I just know that I'm here, alive, carrying his baby.

And he's somewhere else, covered in someone else's blood, doing what he does best.

Being a monster.

My monster.

The man I love despite everything.

The man who saves me and breaks me in equal measure.

And I don't know how to stop loving him.

Don't know if I want to.