Page 76 of Burn the Wild

Respectfully,

H.M. Cline

A hard lump forms in my throat. It’s all so unfair. Gavin’s behind this. Somehow.

A text pops up, obscuring my email.

I freeze when I see the preview:You fucking whore.

Perfect. It’s like the cherry on the shit sundae that is my life.

Movement at my side makes me jump, and I scramble to hide the phone. But I’m too late and Ford sees.

“Who the fuck is that?” he says gruffly.

“No one.”

“I’m serious, Reese.” Before I know it, my phone is in his large hand. He stares at the screen, his knuckles so white I’m afraid he’ll crack the screen.

I tug on his arm. “If you break it, I can’t afford a new phone, Country Boy.”

There’s a long moment of silence, then, with fire in his eyes, he hands it back to me. “Open it.”

I shove a finger in his face. “It’s none of your business.”

When he continues to stare at me, I cave first. Sighing, I open my text thread.

You fucking ruined everything, Reese. You stupid little bitch. I’m walking away like you want. I’m off the tour. It’s all your fucking fault.

Ford stiffens, moving a little closer to me.

I sigh. “It’s okay.”

His face is stone. “It’s not okay. No one should talk to you like that.”

“I get these three times a day. Luckily, I have terrible cell service at the chalet, so they only make an appearance when I’m here.” I roll my eyes. “He’s a real wordsmith, this one.”

“Wait.” Now he looks like he wants to punch something. “You’ve been getting these the entire time you’ve been here?”

As if to goad Ford further, another text pops up.

I’m done with you, bitch. Biiitch.

His eyebrows gather. “Okay, who the hell is this clown?”

“Kyler.”

“Kyler? What kind of name is that?”

I roll my eyes. “Says the guy who’s named after a car.”

“And you dated this asshole?” Contempt fills his voice.

“I told you that we dated for optics.”

“Let me guess. He takes you out downtown to do some lines before passing out.”

I arch a challenging brow, curious now. “And you could do better?”

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