The mistake, Logan told himself, was her. Clearly. She’d traded loyalty for a loser with a neck tattoo. He was better off.
Logan looked up. Ramona “Romi” Perez stood in the doorway, arms crossed, dark hair tumbling over one shoulder. She wasn’t dressed up—just Briar sweatpants and an old T-shirt—but somehow she still looked like she belonged on a magazine cover. It was annoying. She was annoying.
“What if,” he said slowly, “I stopped looking in the wrong places?” The Mistake Vk Elle Kennedy
He pulled her down onto the couch. And when he kissed her, it wasn’t desperate or needy. It was the opposite of a mistake.
Romi’s breath hitched. “Logan…”
“I’m not alone. You’re here.”
Not in the way his best friend Dean was—all swagger and sharp grins, collecting hookups like hockey trophies. No, Logan was the quiet kind of wanted. The steady boyfriend. The guy you brought home to your parents after the bad boys had their fun. The mistake, Logan told himself, was her
Until she dumped him for a guy who sold vape pens out of his Camaro.
That was his brand. And for two years, he’d been perfectly content playing that role for Grace, his high school sweetheart. He was better off
That’s what he repeated like a mantra at the start of freshman year, sitting on the worn couch in the Briar hockey house, a bottle of Jack in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling her Instagram like a masochist.
It was the first right thing he’d done all year.