Page 41 of Wild and Bright

I look away from him, not wanting him to see the turmoil of my emotions. “God,” I say in an effort at levity. “Who even plays the fucking banjo? He’s going to run through all the banjoists in the world.”

He chuckles, and I’m grateful for the sound of it. “So we’re back to making fun of folk music. Even though you’ve basically become a River of Sight groupie.”

I lift my head, smiling primly. “I’m a River of Sight live-in girlfriend. And even though folk rock isn’t my cup of tea, I love it because you make it.”

“Right.” His smile widens. “Spoken like a mother who thinks her ugly child is beautiful.”

“Exactly.” I wink.

His smile grows tender as he walks in my direction. After he disappears behind my chair, I feel the pressure of his hands kneading my shoulders. “If there’s one good thing about this canceled tour, it’s getting to be around you all the time. I really think it’s good for me.” He presses a hard kiss against my cheek.

“What’s going on?”

I jerk back into my chair at the deep sound of Cam’s voice.

Camden

He’s touching her.

He’s kissing her.

It takes all my willpower not to march over to the kitchen table and shove him away. He’s been coming over here at least once a week since she moved in—always when I’m out of the house. As much as I want to rush home every time I see his phone location next to hers, I tell myself a mature, non-control freak wouldn’t intervene in what they’ve both always insisted is only a close friendship.

Of course, the one day I let my jealousy get the better of me and end my meeting with my agent early, I come home and find them like this. They touch and kiss all the time. I know this. It’s a lovey-dovey friendship typical of affectionate people with poor boundaries, and I’ve been forced to witness it almost my entire life, even as it nauseated me.

But now that she’s mine—or feels like she is—I don’t think I can stand it.

“Hunter, I don’t want you coming over when I’m not here.”

“Excuse me?”

Surprisingly, it’s Lauren’s voice.

When I glance in her direction, those big green eyes are blazing.

My jaw clenches. “I don’t think that’s unreasonable. Not given our history.”

Her nostrils flare as she places both hands on her hips. “Are you ready to talk about our history? Now seems like a good time.”

I avert my gaze, wishing I hadn’t brought up the subject. “No, there’s no need—”

“There is a need.” She’s nearly shouting. “You’ve been blaming me for years for something that isn’t all my fault.” I hear her footsteps approaching me, but I can’t bring myself to look up. Her voice lowers to a melodic hum. “Do you remember what you said to me right after we had sex?”

A cold sickness settles in my stomach. Of course I remember. Those words still have the power to make me wince. I’ve worked hard to push them away, but sometimes they rise to the surface when I least expect it, and the memory is so vivid, I can even hear the petulant lilt of my stupid twenty-year-old voice.

“Why don’t you go find Hunter so you can fuck two brothers in the same night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” My words are rapid.

“I think you should, Cam,” Hunter says.

My eyes snap open, and I glare at him. “You don’t even remember any of it.”

In his face, I see the same thinly veiled contempt that’s been characteristic of all of our interactions in these last forty-eight days he’s been sober. “Right,” he says. “My opinion doesn’t count because I’m an alcoholic.”

I roll my eyes at his typical self-pity. This is why his sobriety never sticks. He’s still not willing to own up to his mistakes.

It’s why I live in a constant state of uncertainty.

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