Page 10 of In Your Wake

“Bam-Bam Adams,” he interjects, extending his hand toward Mitchell. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, dude. I’m a huge fan.”

Mitchell’s gaze hardens as he reluctantly takes Tucker’s hand. I can’t help but notice that his grip is so much bigger than Tucker’s. Or how he rolls his shoulders back and pops his chest out like a stupid peacock. I roll my eyes.

“The name is Mitchell,” he corrects with ice in his words.

“Uh, right, sorry.” Tucker pulls his hand back and turns to face me, his brow creased with confusion. “I guess I’ll see you later, Maxy.”

He leans in for a soft peck, but I grip his shirt and tug him in, transforming the kiss into something messy and heated.

All too soon, Tucker breaks away, a soft blush coloring his cheeks.

“See you later, baby,” I say with a wink, my voice dripping with need and invitation.

Flustered, rubbing the back of his neck, Tucker returns to his Porsche. I wave goodbye, and Mitchell’s shadow falls over me as he stands a bit too close for comfort.

“That car screams overcompensation,” he says.

Exasperated, I glare up at him. “It makes me so glad to see that you haven’t changed a bit and you’re still a complete asshole… Bam-Bam,” I tack on.

Staring down at me, Mitchell sticks his tongue between his teeth, but then smirks and breathes out a laugh that douses me in flames I don’t like. “And it makes me so glad to see you’re still a world-class bitch… Maxy.”

I squint and let out a frustrated huff. Muttering a few curse words under my breath, I storm off and get into my car, then speed out of the driveway, nearly hitting a pedestrian on my way out.

I’m not surprised when I see Mitchell in my rearview mirror, arms folded across his wide chest, rolling with laughter.

Fucking prick.

4

Signs

Mitch

The unassuming dark red brick front of the building and black-metal framed windows draw me closer to the brewery as I cross the street in a slow jog. Hunter and Spencer are standing out front, their heads craned back as they stare up at the white sheet hanging above the door, hiding the new sign.

“You two are always fucking slacking,” I tease.

They turn around, beaming. Like long-lost siblings, we open our arms for a group hug, and I’m filled with a warmth that seeps into my being. Despite not sharing one ounce of DNA with these guys, they are my family. Going through puberty and endless summers together will do that to people.

“You made it!” Spencer smacks my back, not bothering to hide his genuine disbelief.

“Why is everyone so shocked I’ve shown up? I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”

“I never doubted you’d make it, Mitch.” Always the kindest of the group, Hunter smiles, his baby face looking more mature since I saw him a few months back in New York City. Then again, it could be the pounds of muscle he’s put on and his summer tan.

I grip his shoulder. “Jesus, Hunter. What are you at, like, zero percent body fat?”

I work out as much as he does, but my weightlifting makes me look thick, whereas the hours he spends at his yoga studio make him lean and cut.

“Not zero.” He chuckles. “I’m at two, actually,” he adds.

I blink a few times. “Two? Damn, you’re letting yourself go.”

“You should try some yoga,” he says, giving my stomach a playful tap. He’s joking, of course. This is what we do—we tease each other like brothers.

“All right, if you two have finished flirting, can we get on with this?” Spencer complains haughtily. “Some of us have plans.”

“And do these plans involve a sexy brunette?” Hunter asks, meaning Bethany, Spencer’s girlfriend.