I rip two more off from her stomach and her arms.
Tears brim her eyes. “Sorry,” she apologizes, wiping the corners.
I fucking hate when she says she’s sorry for her feelings—for stupid fucking things that don’t ever need apologies. I stand up and kiss her temple, knowing my brother is consumed with his girlfriend’s wellbeing. And I hold the back of her head and whisper in her ear. “You can cry if it hurts, sweetheart. It doesn’t make you a little girl.”
She lets out a deep breath. And her arms tighten around me. She places her forehead on my chest, and I reach over her shoulder to take off the last three on her back. She flinches, and only one of them bleeds after removal this time. I rub her head before pulling off my long-sleeve gray shirt. Cold washes over my bare chest, and I realize that she must be freezing. I fit it over her head, and it falls to her thighs, the fabric soaking some of the blood.
I rub her arm, creating friction to warm her body. “We’ll clean and bandage those at the campsite,” I tell her.
She nods, and then glances over at Lo, checking to see if he’s watching her.
Fuck it.
I lift her in my arms, cradling her. She smiles, despite her tears drying in the corners of her eyes. “We’ll meet you guys at camp,” I tell them.
Lo glances at me once, clearly noticing Daisy in my arms. This isn’t the first time I’ve cradled her. Nor will it ever be the last. I stare at him with a hard, unflinching gaze.
I did nothing wrong.
I just helped someone who I love—the same fucking way Lo is taking care of Lily and Connor is taking care of Rose. I’m tired of being shit on for doing the right thing with the wrong girl. The biggest kindergarten response pops up in my head.
It’s. Not. Fucking. Fair.
And then Lo does something surprising. He nods at me, almost like an approval, not quite, but almost. He gestures with his head towards the campsite. “Go.”
I do.
I leave with Daisy in my arms.
As I’ve done so many times before.
Maybe that’s why it’s not so fucking hard for him to accept this moment. When everyone pairs off, I become the only option for her. There’s no one else but me.
That’s how this all started.
But I think about Julian. I think about all the other fucking guys she’s been with. All the other women I’ve dated.
And I’m certain that’s not how this ends.
There’s no way I’m with her out of circumstance.
We chose this because nothing else felt right.
Nothing else felt as good.
Our greatest happiness has always been with each other.
< 39 >
RYKE MEADOWS
We helped the girls clean off their wounds with soap, and we bandaged them. Now they’re in sweatshirts and baggy pants, grouped around the campfire. Lily sits on Lo’s lap, her head to his chest. She keeps dozing off, but faraway howls from the woods and rustles in the trees startle her awake.
“What was that?” she asks with wide eyes, glancing over her shoulder.
“A big bad wolf,” Daisy jokes, her legs kicked up on my lap. Before we were together, she’d playfully do this, but I wouldn’t touch her. So I can’t put my hands on her ankles or pull her closer to me. I just have my hand on the back of her camping chair, watching her pick at a hot marshmallow on a stick. “Oh wait,” Daisy gasps, “he’s right here.” She tilts her head at me.
I raise my brows at her. I can feel my brother watching, and I’m not fucking sure what’s going on in his head. His expression has been unreadable for most of the night.
She leans forward and licks gooey marshmallow off her finger. My arousal heightens as she quickly grabs my attention. Her eyes lock on me, and she whispers, “Big bad wolf, are you going to eat me?”
You’re a dirty girl, Calloway. My gaze drops to her mouth. “Until you fucking scream.”
Her lips curve upward.
“It’s dead, Rose,” Connor says. His voice pulls our gaze towards him. Rose is curled on a chair beside Connor, his hand on her thigh, her fingers intertwined with his. In her other hand, she fries a leech on the tip of a stick, her yellow-green eyes murderous.
“Not nearly enough,” she retorts. “This little bitch took my blood.”
“And here, I thought you were roasting it for dessert,” Lo banters.
Rose holds up a hand at him, as though to say silence. She squishes the blackened leech against a log, stabbing it over and over.
Lo looks around at us like what the fuck? He nods to Connor who sips a Fizz Life, a grin at the corners of his lips. He finds his wife fucking amusing—even if she’s half-crazy. “How are you not scared to bite her in bed?” Lo asks. “If you draw blood does she grab a fire poker?”