Chapter 3
Landon and Logan Holt.
Identical faces. Same chiseled jawlines and steel-gray eyes.
But they couldn’t have been more different.
Landon was ice—buttoned-up, unreadable, always carrying some quiet storm.
Logan was fire—loud, arrogant, impulsive as hell.
But right now?
Both of them were staring at me like I was gum stuck to their designer shoes.
I could barely breathe.
Grace touched my arm gently. “Savvy? You ready to pick?”
“Let’s gooo—rock bottom, incoming!”
“She’s gonna pick both, isn’t she? Typical.”
“She picked Landon in the OG version. Spoiler alert: he iced her out like a dead fish.”
“She thought he was being gentle ‘cause she was sickly. Nah, girl. He was railing the heroine behind your back.”
“Honk honk, the clown has entered the building!”
That last comment hit like a slap.
Landon—my perfect, protective, painfully polite Landon… was screwing someone else?
And Logan?
“With Big Bro busy playing fake-husband, Baby Bro gets the girl.”
“Heroine still cries in her sleep, tho. Misses her first love.”
“Logan even pretends to be Landon sometimes—just so she doesn’t cry alone at night.”
I stared blankly, brain short-circuiting.
Logan, the wild one, the one who hated being compared to Landon his whole life, was okay with being the substitute?
That kind of love was… pathetic.
Painful.
Terrifying.
