#Chapter 72: Regrets

Logan The door clicked shut behind her, soft as a feather, but it might as well have slammed. The air still carried her scent and it kept me frozen in the middle of the room, heart thudding against my ribs like it hadn’t figured out she was gone. I’d kissed her like a man losing his grip. Like a man who didn’t trust words to hold her. And she hadn’t pulled away. But that didn’t make it right. I sank into the nearest chair, elbows braced on my knees, hands dragging over my face like pressure might slow the thoughts stampeding through my skull. I didn’t regret the kiss. Not the press of her lips, not the way she’d leaned into me like she needed it too. That part was branded into me now. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel her fingers clutching my shirt. What I regretted—what hollowed out my chest now—was the desperation behind it. I’d kissed her like I was afraid. Like I needed proof she hadn’t already chosen someone else. And maybe I did. Because seeing her wi