Unwanted (The Unlucky Ones, #1)

by Marley Valentine

What was worse is, I was certain I hadn’t yet learned how to unlove him either.

He just continues to stare at me, his hazel-colored eyes full of longing. Full of yearning. Full of desire. For me. It hits me harder and cuts me deeper than any indifference and disappointment ever could. Because he’s looking at me the way he always has. Like time hasn’t passed. Like nothing has changed. Like he needs me. Like he loves me.

It’s always been an unspoken rule: you are who you are and you love who you love; you never need to explain that.

It’s hard to admit, but the quicker you realize perfection isn’t what you’re striving for, the easier recovery is to process.

And even after all this time, that connection was reignited the second I laid eyes on him. It didn’t matter that we’d done and said unforgivable things. I knew down to the marrow of my bones that he was mine and I was his. But just because it felt like we were meant to be, it didn’t automatically mean we could work it all out; it didn’t mean there was ever a possibility we would last. This was our life now. Strangers connected by history and circumstance. Strangers who could maybe start from scratch and try to be friends. Start fresh. Start something different, something new. But just like my recovery, maybe we could do it. One conversation at a time. One foot in front of the other. One moment at a time.

Now, with every part of me touching him, I was certain it didn’t matter who it was or what gender they identified as, I would never be able to see anyone but him.