"Was it Alex?" Logan asked quietly, carefully watching her expression.
The question hung heavy in the air.
He remembered it all too well… how violently Alex had grabbed her on their wedding day. How Jean had gone rigid, but hadn't screamed. Like she'd learned long ago that screaming didn't help.
Jean didn't respond.
But her silence spoke volumes.
Except... something didn't fit. There was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Not the wary disdain she had for Alex. No, this was something colder.
More broken.
Not Alex.
Logan's voice dropped. "Then who?"
Still, she said nothing.
Her fingers curled around the bedsheet tightly. Her jaw locked.
And suddenly, Logan knew… she wasn't going to tell him.
Not because she couldn't. But because she wouldn't.
Whatever name haunted her dreams… she didn't trust him enough to say it.
Logan sat back on his heels, his mind racing. Whoever it was, they weren't just a memory. They were a scar still bleeding beneath her skin.
