⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆✼♡✽⋆∘∙⊱⋅•
I sat there, feeling sheepish as he continued to scold the living hell outta me, fingers twisting in the hem of my damp shirt, the plush couch cushions doing nothing to ease the guilt tightening inside me with every word he spoke.
"I'm...sorry? I know I'm dumb as hell, I thought I could handle it all on my own. But I think I just made shit worse."
My inner voice chimed in with its usual chaotic commentary, a tired, self-deprecating snort escaping me: How did my casual hook-up turn into a lovesick rock star protector while I'm fake-mated to my boss and running from the mafia?
I desperately need a new life plan, one without emotional landmines and furious exes. Rowan's protectiveness only made the guilt sharper; here he was, offering safety and concern after I had just shattered his confession earlier that day, and all I could do was sit there like a fool who somehow collected two genuinely caring men while my world was ready to implode.
