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Realtors? Squatters? Burglars?
But then I clear the trees and—
No.
Hell, no.
I pull to a stop, dread pooling in my gut. I know exactly who this asshole unfolding from the front step is.
Leo. My ex.
Chapter Nine
CAM
If there were a touch pad sensor on the floating swim dock in front of Trevor’s, I’m pretty confident today would be my personal best time yet. And even without the timer, the fact that I beat him says I was blazing.
Either that, or maybe he liked the look of the bottle I sent and started without me? Ever the optimist— at least since Trevor pulled back into town three and a half weeks ago —I swim to shore and then start up to the cabin.
Halfway there, I hear it— “I love you, T.” —and I trip over my next step.
Suddenly, it feels like I swallowed a gallon of lake water. Like it’s in my lungs, choking me. In my legs, weighing me down. In my gut, making me sick.
I climb faster.
“Leo… you love me?”
The sound of Trevor’s stunned laugh filters around the house, muted to the point that I can’t read the emotion in it. Joy or disgust, I have no idea. All I know is that I need to be there. I need to see this motherfucker who broke my boyfriend’s heart… and I need to see what Trevor looks like when he looks at him.
Because suddenly the only thing I can think about is Neil and Judy and Harvey. And I’m realizing that if Trevor goes back to this jerk, I’m going to usurp Neil as Captain of the SIMP squad and be everything I begged my buddy to stop being. The friend. The rebound. Anything I can get.
I hear the door from the truck slam and gravel crushing underfoot as Trevor’s voice carries to me loud and clear. “I don’t think you know what that word means.”
Rounding the side of the house, I play like I’m not about to die inside. Like I don’t have a single thing to worry about.
Raising a hand, I push my mouth into a slanted smile, barely sparing a glance at the built dickhead standing in front of my boyfriend with a look of confusion and heartbreak in his eyes.
“Hey, babe. That was some workout.” I toss my goggles by the front stoop, striding into Trevor’s space, dripping wet and acting like the possessive dickhead I’ve become in the last two minutes.
I lean down and kiss him on the mouth. Not jamming my tongue down his throat, but for a lingering beat… like he’s fucking mine.
It ought to be enough. But in for a penny, in for a pound. So I add, “Almost as good as the one you gave me last night.”
He coughs, blue eyes going wide as they search mine like they’re wondering who the hell took over my body.
From behind me, I hear the ex mutter a curse. And then, “Jesus Christ, you’re… the goddamn swimmer?”
Huh?
Surprise more than anything turns me around. The prick is staring at me, sizing me up. Whatever. Crossing my arms, I step in beside Trevor… who’s also still watching me, the slightest hitch at the corner of his mouth.
Gonna take that as a good sign. I turn back to the ex. “Guess so. Cam Dorsey.”
“Yeah. Leo.” He shifts uncomfortably, but then gives it up. “Leo Rossi. I’m uhh… Trevor’s roommate. We play for the same team.”
And now I get why even when Trevor was telling me about this relationship, he was so careful with the details. Nothing to indicate who this man was. No dots to connect.
This dick has no idea the respect Trevor has given his privacy.
