Page 39 of Roughing It

“No. Shut up,” she snarls, tears still running down her cheeks, eyes snapping with fire. “I am sorry, sorry you didn’t give me the chance to speak last night. Sorry you made a judgment about me. Sorry you’re still pissy and taking it out on me this morning. That’s the only apology you’re getting. If you don’t like it, too bad.”

She’s a hurricane of fury and frustration, and it’s no less than I deserve.

“It’s interesting you have a business degree. Interesting but not surprising. It’s bullshit for anyone to think you aren’t smart. I never once even implied that. You’re clearly brilliant. You know more about survival and the land than I could ever hope to understand. And you obviously have a savvy business mind despite agreeing to this,” she gestures her hand between us, “clusterfuck.”

I want to pull her into my arms and whisper my apologies into her ear. Demand she hear me. But I’m struck silent. Caught in the storm of her wrath.

Blakely plows ahead, chin high, teeth bared. “Incidentally, for all that you claim I’ve judged you, you’ve judged me plenty. And made a shit ton of assumptions. You’re the only one with acollege degree, and not because my parents could ‘only afford state school,’ as you so rudely said a few days ago. I mov?—”

She stops, cutting off whatever she plans to say next. I watch her chest rise and fall, fury brilliant on her face.

“You don’t know nearly as much about me as you think you do. You said I was fascinating. And you’d know me so well if I only dropped my shields. How about you take your own advice. Whatever chip’s on your shoulder, I’m not the one who put it there.” She throws the flint and steel at me. “Since you’ve marked me as a complete and total failure, I’m done for the day. If you need me, I’ll be drinking.”

Blakely takes three steps, then turns back. “And don’t call me Princess!”

DAY SEVEN

It’s been two days since our fight in the clearing. To say it’s been awkward as fuck is an understatement. Neither Blakely nor I have spoken more than a couple of words to each other. She still makes a shit ton of noise, talking to Kirk, doing lives, and walking around the cabin singing—terribly—but unless we’re bickering over stupid shit, she doesn’t have anything to say to me. The only smile she’s given me is that fake ass one she uses on her socials. I hate that smile.

On the plus side, we kept our lips to ourselves, so I guess that’s a win.

Yeah, huge fucking win.

Blakely sighs softly in her sleep, her face peaceful and relaxed. I think about her accusations. That I’ve judged her, made assumptions, put words into her mouth. And fuck if she isn’t right. Her admission that she doesn’t have a degree surprised me. I figured a woman like her had some fancy-ass and useless degreethat cost more than a starter home. I also think about our conversation when I told her about how Peak Adventures got its start. Up until I blew everything to pieces, she’d been listening eagerly.

Fucking shit hell. I’m an asshole.

I grab my phone and fire off a text to the group chat I have with my brothers.

I fucked up.

Gray

What’d u do

Bo

Not surprised

Made some assumptions and yelled at her

Gray

Ur an idiot

Got that. Thanks.

Bo

You’ve gotta get Paige out of your head man

Who said anything about her?

Bo

Whatever. Advice?

Gray

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