Page 74
Fuck, I really should have stayed in Utah.
Chapter thirty-two
Imay have fucked up.
Not just by shoving Taylor but because I was supposed to pack a few tents this morning—and I’d been too drunk to do it.
They’re still sitting on Tay and Christian’s front porch, exactly where I left them when I refilled my booze.
The good news is I remembered to pack two tents. The bad news? Christian and Arya get one to themselves while the rest of us are stuck sharing. And I’m out of liquor. Fuck.
As soon as we set up the campsite, everyone else took off to ride the dirt bikes and ATV we brought, leaving Logan, Matty, Arya, and me behind. It’s awkward as hell.
“Take some pics of me for my socials, Daddy Matty,” Arya giggles, handing him her phone before striking a pose in front of the trees near the log fence marking our site.
Of course, he complies because he’s too fucking nice. My teeth grind as I watch her bend over in her sports bra, ass pressed to a tree while she sticks a finger in her mouth.
What the hell kind of picture is that? Hashtag: trees make me horny? Jesus Christ.
Rolling my eyes, I slump lower into my camping chair, grateful for the shade. Logan starts messing with the firepit for some damn reason, and I scoff.
“It’s daytime, dumbass. We don’t need a fire yet.”
His ears turn red, creeping down his neck beneath the collar of his polo, and his honey-gold eyes flash when he glances up at me. “Salem said it’d be dark by the time they get back. It might get cold.”
I snort, unable to hold back. “You’re fuckin’ whipped. She dumped you, dude. Get over it.”
“Caring about someone isn’t being whipped,” he shoots back, his voice growing colder, and I glance at him sidelong.
“It is when they don’t care back. That’s just pathetic.”
Trust me, I’d fucking know.
Logan doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening before he jumps to his feet to gather more firewood, leaving me alone with the only two people on this trip I want to avoid at all costs.
As much as I try to ignore them, I can’t—not with Arya’s grating voice and Matty’s laugh cutting me to the bone. Like a goddamn magnet, my eyes are drawn to him, helpless to look away. He’s snapping photos of her, a smile playing on lips I have no claim to anymore. His biceps bunch under the sleeves of his shirt, glistening with sweat as his silvery strands glow in the sunlight.
I hate him. Fucking hate him.
Only I don’t.
“Let’s take a few more over here, Daddy,” Arya sings, grabbing his hand to drag him toward a thicket of bushes. My jaw clenches so hard I’m sure my teeth might crack.
“Stop calling him that,” I snarl, and both of them freeze, whipping their heads toward me.
Arya tilts her head, the brightness in her expression dimming as her lips pull into a pout. “Why? That’s what he is. A total Daddy.”
A gag threatens to overtake me, but I shove it down. “He doesn’t fucking like it, that’s why.”
Matty frowns, his brows pulling together in confusion as his eyes lock on mine. “It’s just a nickname, Xed. It’s fine.”
“Fine?” I repeat flatly. Something snaps inside me, anger bubbling over as I surge to my feet, throwing my arms wide. “Fine. Fine! Everything’s just fucking fine!”
My shout ricochets off the trees, startling everyone. Logan freezes mid-step, arms full of sticks, blinking like a deer in headlights. Even the birds stop chirping, and I swear a cloud slides in front of the sun, plunging everything into shadow.
Matty gazes at me, lines appearing next to his mouth, blue eyes darkening. I know what he’s trying to do—I can feel it. He’s trying to speak to me silently, to say something on our shared connection, but that bond has been broken, and I can no longer fucking hear it.
So I turn away, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I need a walk,” I mutter, not caring if anyone hears.
