Page 37 of Make Me Want it Too

Wood scoops his arm around me, shuttering me away from Spencer. “Fuck, I didn’t know you got seasick. We should have skipped this.”

I still can’t talk.

Spencer scoffs.

Bex and Jake are way ahead of us. Zayne and Dane are behind us, taking pictures at the end of the dock, living their best lives. And Margot is hovering just ahead of Spencer as we walk down the dock toward land. Sweet, sweet, non-moving land.

Spencer’s gaze keeps latching onto Wood’s arm around me. “Admit I was the better choice, Woodall. I’m a leader. And a better rower.”

Wood lets out a hard chuckle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer snaps.

“Take it however you want.”

My stomach churns audibly.

“I could beat you in a race right here, right now.” Spencer gestures to the canoes tied to the dock on the far side of the property.

Wood tilts his head. “I’m not going to race you, bro.”

“Chickening out because you know you’ll lose?”

“I do not give a flying fuck. Can’t you see Macy isn’t feeling well?”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Please. Now you’re just making excuses.”

I’m too hot. I’m sweating. My stomach tightens and lurches as I dry heave. I just need the ground to stop moving for, like, two minutes. Please don’t let me puke again. Not in front of everyone.

“Holy shit, Mace. Are you going to be sick?”

As soon as we reach the grass I drop to all fours and the remainder of what’s left in my stomach and half a bottle of expensive champagne spew out across the Hayes’s manicured lawn.

CHAPTER 8

WOOD

“Don’t look at me!” More dry heaving. “I’m fine. Go away,” she says with tears streaking down her cheeks.

No fucking way.

I rub Macy’s back lightly, having already ordered everyone else away. They’re still hanging around the back of the house, watching, but at least Macy can feel like she has a little bit of privacy.

“Here, let me take you to the room.”

Macy sits up, slumped, eyes watery. “I ruined the pretty grass.”

“Fuck the grass. Don’t worry about the grass.” I put her arm over my shoulder and lift her up into my arms. She’s light.

“Put me down. I can walk.”

“Okay.”

She sways and stumbles, latching onto my arm with both hands. “I just need a minute.”

I lean down, sliding my arm around her waist to keep her steady. “I know you can do it by yourself. But I’m here. Let me help you.”

She gives me the cutest little scowl I’ve ever seen but reluctantly hooks her elbow around my neck and doesn’t protest when I sweep her up into my arms again, careful to keep her skirt from flying up.

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