Love Me (WITSEC #3)(40)



I squeezed his hand this time—a silent way to tell him I was here.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad person for failing to step up because you were suffering, too—”

Logan slammed his hands down on the counter. “I did the best I could!”

“And what about now?!” Keelan yelled back. “Are you doing your best for her now? Or what’s best for yourself?” Fuming, Keelan continued before Logan could speak. “Tell me this: If you got your way right now and you relocated her, how long before you abandoned her again to satisfy your need for revenge?”

Logan glared at Keelan with venomous rage and Keelan stared right back at him, calm and looking unimpressed.

“You don’t want to relocate her because you think my brothers and I will compromise her safety,” Keelan said. “You want to do it because it’s an easier and faster solution than dealing with the sheriff. But Shiloh won’t leave because of me and my brothers. So that’s where you’re focusing most of your attention. You’re grasping at fucking straws trying to tear us apart so you can get what you want. It’s why you brought up her PTSD.”

“I was trying to get you to understand the hardships you’ll face by being with my niece,” Logan ground out.

“No. You weren’t,” Keelan seethed. “You were using Shiloh’s PTSD to manipulate me into leaving her. And that tells me that the deal you made with me didn’t mean a thing. It wasn’t a test to see if I could protect Shiloh. You made that deal with me because you didn’t think I could beat you.”

He was talking about the fight between them. Logan had said I could stay if Keelan could beat him, and Keelan had beaten him.

“Everyone handles grief differently, which is why I understand your need to hunt down X no matter what. At the same time, you’re hurting Shiloh, and that’s not okay. Your actions cause ripples,” Keelan explained. “Did you know that anytime we try to help or be there for Shiloh, she thinks of herself as a burden? After hearing you refer to PTSD as inconvenient and hard, I now know why she thinks that way.”

Logan straightened his stance. And just by looking at him, I knew Keelan’s words had fallen on deaf ears. “You don’t get to sit there and lecture me, boy. You have no idea the danger you and your brothers are inserting yourselves into. And for what? Pussy? You’d be better off finding a nice, normal girl. Better yet, you could find one you don’t have to share.”

All I could do was gape at Logan. I had no words. Just feelings. The hurt and betrayed kind. And even if I did say something at that moment, to him it wouldn’t matter. He’d only listen to respond, not listen to understand. Logan was so consumed with desperation—the desperation to keep me safe and the desperation to hunt down Mr. X. And right now, one interfered with the other.

Slowly, Keelan pushed back his chair and stood. “Let’s go,” he said, staring down at me.

Nothing was said as we walked around the table or as we passed Logan until Keelan paused just before exiting the room. He glanced back at my uncle. “To answer your question, we know about the PTSD. We’ve witnessed it.” He seemed like he was going to part ways with that, but the muscle in his jaw clenched. “If you ever make my girlfriend’s trauma seem like a burden again or refer to her as just pussy, you won’t walk out of the hospital next time we spar. I’ll make sure you have to be wheeled out.”

For a split second, I thought I saw guilt flicker in Logan’s eyes before he looked away.





Keelan helped me carry the groceries that had been forgotten on my coffee table over to his house and then helped me unpack and put them away. Right away, I tried to lose myself in the task of preparing reheatable meals I’d planned for Keelan and a hearty dinner for tonight. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. My mind raced as I collected ingredients, then began chopping vegetables and herbs. What had happened with Logan had been too shocking—too ugly to ignore.

Keelan sat at the island, quietly watching my every move. “I’m here when you’re ready,” he said with a gentleness that nearly shattered my fragile will to stay strong.

I paused in my chopping, knife mid-slice through an onion. “I could take the awful things Logan said to heart. I could let it feed into my already-heavy guilt. But I’m not going to.” I continued chopping. “Grief can be a catastrophic thing. You can let it destroy either you or those around you. I know I’m making it sound like a choice. It is and it’s not. Like all things in life, how grief is handled is based on choices. What no one prepares you for is how cruel and manipulative a bastard grief can be or how it uses your pain to beat you down again and again. Grief clouds the roads laid before you and it’s so easy to get lost.”

With a heavy sigh, I set down my knife. My eyes kept blurring and I didn’t want to chop off a finger. I glanced up at the ceiling to regain my composure. “I can choose to be mad and hurt right now or I can set those feelings aside and understand that Logan is lost in his grief. I knew he was hurting. I just…I just didn’t know how badly until today.”

“Grief doesn’t excuse hurting others,” he said. “And you’re allowed to feel hurt by him, because he will hurt you again and again, and every time he will rationalize doing so.”

“Because he’s desperate to get back to hunting Mr. X.”

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