Page 37 of Sticks & Serpents

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button. The phone rang, and I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he’d pick up. Maybe I could talk to him, distract myself from all the chaos that threatened to swallow me whole.

But then came the familiar sound—the dreaded voicemail tone.

Hey, it’s Logan. Leave a message.

The beep echoed in the silence of my room, and panic surged through me. I hesitated, swallowed hard, and finally blurted out his name.

“Logan, it’s Holly. Please call me back.” My voice cracked at the end, betraying the turmoil swirling inside me. “I just wanted to check on you.”

I hung up and dropped my phone onto the bed with a heavy thud. The emptiness in my chest expanded until it felt like a gaping wound. He wasn’t going to answer; he probably couldn’t even use his hands right now. Damien had made sure of that.

My stomach churned at the thought. Damien hurt him because of me—because I smiled at Logan and tried to pretend everything was fine when deep down, nothing ever was. My skin prickled with shame, and bile rose in my throat as realization crashed over me: here I was, kissing the man who had put Logan in the hospital.

Desire twisted uncomfortably with guilt inside me like a sick joke that wouldn’t stop playing on repeat. How could I have let it happen? How could I crave Damien so fiercely after what he’d done? It felt wrong on every level.

I lay back against my pillows, feeling the walls close in around me as if they were closing ranks on all the decisions I'd made since coming back to Crestwood. The world outside blurred into nothingness; all that remained was this crushing weight in my chest.

With every passing second that ticked by without Logan’s reply, anxiety gripped tighter around my heart like a vice—tightening until it became hard to breathe.

What kind of person was I?

I pushed myself off the bed and trudged downstairs, my stomach rumbling. I glanced around when I reached the bottom step. He was still gone, probably buried in meetings or preparing for the upcoming year. The Team USA tryouts, the alumni game, the scrimmage with Canada—his calendar was always packed. I understood that he had a lot on his plate, but it didn’t ease my anger about how much control Damien seemed to have over my life.

As I rummaged through the fridge, grabbing ingredients to whip up something simple for dinner, I tried to remind myself why I had left Damien behind. The violence lingered in my thoughts—his unpredictable temper and possessiveness that had spiraled out of control.

Not that he ever hurt me physically.

Well… not the kind of hurt meant to inspire fear.

There was a strange pleasure that came with Damien did to me, fingers wrapped around my throat, hips bruised, pelvis sore…

I stopped. I couldn't think of things like that.

Those memories tangled together with good ones that crept in like unwelcome shadows. I could still feel the warmth of his arms around me during high school, how he’d stand by me like a shield against anyone who dared to cross my path. He protected me fiercely then, treating me like I was his whole world.

I shook my head as if trying to dislodge those thoughts. The way he looked at me—it was all-consuming. Those stormy blue eyes had once burned into me with an intensity that made everything else fade away. In those moments, I was everything to him; it felt like nothing else mattered but our connection.

But now? Now that feeling felt like a trap—a noose tightening around my heart.

I took a deep breath as I chopped vegetables, trying to focus on the rhythm of the knife against the cutting board rather than the turmoil inside me. But even as I did, memories flooded back.

In those moments when he was gentle and attentive, I had believed in that kind of love completely. It was intoxicating and safe yet terrifying all at once.

But now? All I could see were echoes of danger lurking behind every fond memory.

Chopping vegetables felt like a futile attempt to distract myself from the storm brewing inside. Each slice echoed with my rising anxiety, a rhythm that barely masked the chaos in my mind. I forced my focus onto the task, but thoughts of Damien kept creeping back, taunting me with every chop.

That’s what made him so dangerous. He lingered in the shadows of my thoughts, an insistent reminder of everything I tried to escape. My heart twisted as I thought about his smirk, that glint in his eyes that promised both exhilaration and destruction. Part of me still wanted to be his world—the center of his universe—no matter how twisted it felt.

I stopped mid-slice, breath hitching as tears threatened to spill over. This was more than just fear; it was a deeper betrayal to myself. I felt weak for even considering how good it had felt to be desired by him again. I swallowed hard against the tightness in my throat.

It was all so complicated—his destructive love had once wrapped around me like a warm blanket, but now it felt like a noose tightening with every memory I recalled. The way he had looked at me earlier—the mix of possessiveness and longing—was enough to send my heart racing even now. The thought sickened me, yet another part craved that connection again.

The knife slipped from my grip and clattered against the counter as sobs escaped me unbidden. It wasn’t just fear that broke through; it was shame and confusion swirling together until they choked me from the inside out. I pressed my palms against my cheeks, feeling the heat of shame rush through me.

I knew the truth—I was already losing ground in this battle against him. Each moment spent wrestling with memories pulled me further into his orbit, erasing the hard-fought distance I'd established since leaving high school behind. Damien was relentless; he always had been.

And somewhere deep within, a dark part of me relished being pulled back in, like moth to flame—a wicked thrill igniting as if he could somehow burn away all my insecurities and fears. My stomach twisted at the realization that I might welcome that fire once again.

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