Page 8 of Wild and Bright

I take a step in his direction. “I’ll give you head massages. Every night.” I lower my voice to a melodic hum. “Imagine laying on my lap while we watch trashy reality TV. I’ll even get acrylic nails like I had in high school. And instead of whining that I’m tired, I’ll keep going until you drift off to sleep.”

He lifts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Now you’re manipulating me.”

“Yep. I think this is an ideal situation for both of us, and I’m going to fight dirty if I have to. It keeps me from being a freeloader.”

His frown deepens. “I fucking love your head massages.”

I smile widely at the fervor in his tone. “I know you do.”

He shakes his head, his eyes growing unfocused, as if he’s mulling the whole thing over.

“Say yes,” I whisper.

He smiles faintly.

“Do it.” My tone is harder this time.

His smile grows.

“You know you want to do it. Just say yes.”

His smile vanishes, and he shoots me with a probing look. “It’s not going to be pleasant for you. You know Cam won’t like it—especially if we say you’re my wife—and he’ll take it out on you.”

Heat prickles at the back of my neck, my stomach sinking. Cam has resented my relationship with Hunter for as long as I can remember. When we were teenagers, I thought it was all for Hunter’s sake. Cam is an extremely protective older brother, and he made it clear that he didn’t approve of how young I started partying.

But on that beautiful, miserable night five years ago, I learned it was much more complicated than that. I’ll never forget the wild look in his eyes when he held my hips and sank deep inside me, or the words he whispered in my ear.

“I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember.”

I swallow to ease the tightness in my throat. “You’re talking about it like it’s a sure thing. Does this mean we have a deal?”

When his smile fades, apprehension prickles at my skin. I realize for the first time that I really, really want this.

“I’ll come over after dinner. I’ll have an answer for you then.”

THREE

Camden

Her full lips part into a wide, toothy grin as she lifts a thin black case. “This,” she says, “is what I’ve been waiting months for. I’m not kidding when I tell you this is not your mom’s contour palette.” She points to her nose. “I’ll make this big ol’ honker half its size right before your eyes. It’s literally magic.”

I snort, smiling to myself. She’s so ridiculous. How can she say shit like that with a straight face?

“Watching her videos again, I see.”

I jump back in the lawn chair and practically slam my phone on the metal table. When I glance at Hunter, a faint smile is twinging at his lips as he sucks at the black vape pen. After lowering it from his mouth, he exhales a small white cloud. “You don’t have to hide it. It’s not like I haven’t caught you doing it plenty of times. Don’t think I forget everything when I’m drunk.”

Heat creeps along my neck as I look away. “What did she have to talk to you about?”

He exhales heavily, and this time, a large cloud rises into my line of sight.

I hate that he vapes—a habit he picked up in rehab number two. It’s certainly a mild vice compared to alcohol and pills, and yet every time I see him do it, I get this irrational, skin-crawling anxiety that makes me wish I could shrink him into a little boy again, back to when we used to hide our dad’s cigars because we were afraid they’d give him cancer.

Long before all the rehabs and sponsors and Al-Anon meetings.

“It’s a long story,” he says. “And mom says dinner is ten minutes out.”

“Give me the short version.” My tone is curt.

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