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28
Willow
“Hey, Willow, I should, uh, sort of tell you. Camdyn thinks you’re . . .” Conflict ribbons across Tatum’s face. Her voice trails off. I look to where her dark, almond eyes have landed.
Jamie.Mops of hair are pulled into a messy, tiny bun on top of his head. He’s got one hand shoved into the pocket of his blue jeans, and a faded black jean jacket rounds off his look.
He’s really cute, the thought pops into my mind, like a hot outcast. He also looks like he doesn’t belong still. I feel the same, though. Me, Camdyn, Tatum, and the fighter boy could’ve meshed better at a laidback party.
Breathtaking blue-green eyes land on mine, and he migrates through the crowd toward us.
“Hi, Jamie.” Tatum’s tone softens like she’s greeting an invalid at an old folks’ home. I’m exaggerating, but she’s coddling him.
“Hey.” His voice hardly reaches either of us. A frown furrows his brow as he removes the solo cup from my hand, sniffs it, and tosses it into a trash bin.
I snort. “Well, hello to you too.”
A deep, genuine warmth flickers in Jamie’s eyes. “Willow, let’s go.”
“I’m having fun.” Sort of. Tatum mixed gin and juice and was telling me about Camdyn and River’s daredevil days. She humanized him, causing me to realize my uncertain feelings for him aren’t warranted.
He frowns. “You’re seventeen, drinking.”
“Eighteen in a few hours. Everyone’s drinking.” I turn toward Tatum, eyebrow lifted. “Hey, you were just mentioning something about Cam?”
“Uh, slipped my mind. Tomorrow’s your birthday?” Tatum tosses me a look that transitions through a quick cycle of curious emotions. “Oh, happy birthday, boo!” Her enthusiasm sounds forced.
“Thanks,” I edge out. “You sure? Should I ask Cam—”
“Tomorrow’s your birthday?” Jamie’s tender fingertips press against my cheek. He asks, “What have you always wanted to do on your birthday, Willow?”
Sincerity resonates through Jamie as he utters my name. It’s nice to hear. He’s not a topsy-turvy rollercoaster of emotions like Camdyn. After a couple of beats, I realize Jamie’s warm hand still cups my cheek. As I pull away, I hear Tatum.
“Are you—” Tatum’s narrowed eyes transition into slits. “You’re screwing both the MacKenzies!”
“I’m—” Caught off guard by Jamie’s warmth and his lingering touch, I feel like I missed something. There’s been a sudden shift in Tatum’s demeanor.
“She’s not, Tatum,” Jamie sneers. “Why is everything about sex with you people?”
The little bully retorts, “Ask your—”
The music fades, replaced with Camdyn’s booming voice. “Are you motherfeckers ready for our main event? The one before the other main event.”
Jamie’s pulling firmly at my bicep as I turn toward the cage. Over my shoulder, crowds wild out.
“Tonight, for your viewing pleasure, you get me . . . and my bràthair, Jamie MacKenzie. Two motherfecking MacKenzies for the price of one. This shite will never ever occur again in a hunner fecking years.”
“What’s going on with you and your brother?” I snap my arm away from Jamie.
Face blanched, he says, “Drugs. Who knows?”
Tatum snaps, “You should know.”
“Yes.” I second her statement, assuming it was for Jamie. When she leers at me, I snap back, “Well, fuck you, too!”
“Call that motherfecker up here, lassies and gents!” Camdyn snarls, voice booming through the speakers.
“Jamie! Jamie! Jamieee!”
