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I swallow, fighting the urge to retreat into the elevator and press every button just to get away from him.
“Not for you,” I mutter, catching the way Taylor frowns in my peripheral.
Devon’s lips twitch, but there’s no smile there. Just a flick of ash onto the pavement. “Didn’t think it was.”
Tay steps forward, sensing the growing animosity like a storm brewing. “Okay, let’s family bond later. Logan still needs to get home and pack.”
Salem nods, wary eyes bouncing between me and Dev.
Hesitantly, I move toward the RV, heart pounding. My pulse rushes loud in my ears, adrenaline surging through my veins like I just stepped into a cage with a lion—a hungry one.
Devon doesn’t move. He just watches, a taunting smirk curling the edge of his pierced lips. When I open the door and climb inside, his voice chases me, low enough to reach only my ears: “This is gonna be real fucking fun.”
Chapter
Four
Salem
This is the worst trip of my life.
The highway stretches ahead endlessly as I tighten my grip on the wheel of the RV. Elle King blasts through the speakers, my best gal pal is beside me and Utah's far behind. You'd think I’d feel more free at this moment, but I don’t.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, my gaze once again lands on Logan. He’s sitting in a window seat, stiff as hell with his head resting on his arms. Totally ignoring his uncle across from him, who seems to be giving him the same treatment. They both look like they'd rather be anywhere else.
Which, honestly? Same, dudes. Same.
Arya yawns, stretching her bare legs out on the dash, purple toenails sparkling in the evening sun. We’re nearly seven hours into the drive, and in another hour or so, she'll take over for me while I sleep. Tay and Christian are driving Tay's truck behind us, towing a trailer with their bikes and equipment.
It had been a huge fight to decide who drove the RV first. Nobody wanted to do it, and ultimately, it came down to either being a passenger princess for one of the boys or Arya. I chose Arya.
She catches me the next time my eyes drift to the mirror, large sunglasses slipping down her nose when she levels me with a blue-eyed smirk “This is weird, huh?”
A snort leaves my nostrils. “That's one word for it.”
Who in their right fucking mind agrees to go on a road trip with not one, not two or three, but four exes? Me, apparently:
Taylor, my former on-again-off-again boyfriend.
Christian, a one-night stand—years ago.
Devon, my ex-fuckbuddy-slash-drug dealer.
And…Logan. My soon-to-be-ex-husband who refuses to sign the divorce papers. Which I rescued from underneath a stack of trash when we stopped by his apartment to get his shit.
I am clinically insane.
“Could be worse,” Arya muses, twirling a bleach-blonde curl around her manicured finger.
I squint at her sideways. “Yeah? How?”
“You could be in love with one of them.”
Rolling my eyes, I ignore the painful thump in my chest and return my attention to the road. “I hate you.”
Her giggle fills the RV, but she doesn’t respond, pulling out her phone to doomscroll instead.
The music shifts to something softer—Familiar Taste of Poison by Halestorm—and before I can stop myself, my gaze flicks to Logan again. His golden eyes meet mine, fingers playing with that wedding ring he kept, and fuck, I hate that I notice he's overthinking.
