Page 82 of Second Chance Vacation

I’m still not sure why we’re moving Savannah’s bed in, but she is set that she is not getting rid of it. It will either replace the extra guest bed or find a long-term new home in the garage, where it will undoubtedly become riddled with rust.

“Three.”

Wes, Liam, Gabe, and I all lift the heaping pile of metal in unison. Surprisingly, it’s not as heavy as I expect. We manage to get it off the ground with ease. Maneuvering it up the stairs, however, is an entirely different feat.

The front door opens and closes with a quiet slam. Footsteps creak against the loose floorboard in the entryway. My stomach knots, but there isn’t much I can do about it as I stand in the middle of the grand staircase, a fourth of a bed frame resting against my chest.

“Can we get moving?” I ask, attempting to hold my heavy breathing as Wes stops us, adjusting his hold on the metal.

“Yeah—sorry.”

Despite having to maneuver it through multiple tight squeezes, we find the bed frame’s new temporary home in the guest room. Luckily, the room is rather large, so it fits snugly between the existing frame and the one we just brought up.

The moment we make our way back downstairs, her eyes meet mine.

Her glistening chocolate gaze nearly drops me to my knees. Even so, I attempt to play it cool. I’ve sent at least half a dozen text messages over the past few weeks since we returned home, and she hasn’t responded to a single one.

“Hey,” Gen speaks softly as I approach.

“Phone break?”

She pauses in place, taking a second to catch up to what I had said.

“Oh, uh…no. My phone is fine.”

I scoff. “Thought so.”

Pushing past her, I make my way to the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. I nod toward the guys, grabbing them each their own and tossing them to them one by one. Gen stands to the side, her eyes fixed on me. I, however, make a point not to look at her. If she can ignore me for weeks, I can ignore her now.

“Can we talk?”

Is she serious right now?

She ignores me for weeks, refuses to talk to me, strings me alongagain, and expects to be welcomed with open arms.

“Busy.”

I push past once more, grabbing a box off the floor. Unsure of its contents, I make it about as far as the dining room before plopping it down on the hardwood. Escaping to my room seems like the obvious choice, and it takes me no time to get out of sight.

Sweat pools under my T-shirt. I pull it over my head and toss it in a wad against the wall. The door clicks shut behind, but no greeting follows.

“I didn’t want to talk to you downstairs. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

I turn to face her, my harshness tempering as I meet her gaze. It doesn’t matter how angry I am. She still manages to have me by the balls. Well, not today. I’m not doing this, not anymore.

“Jackson…”

“Why are you here, Viv?”

A moment of silence passes before she speaks again.

“Savannah’s my best friend. She asked me to help.”

“My room, Viv. Why are you inmy room.”

The wheels turn in her head as she appears to be searching for a response that’s fitting. She doesn’t find one. Gen just stands there, staring at me. Her bottom lip is caught below her front teeth as she gazes up at me, resembling a broken fawn. No, not today. I’m not doing this today.

But God, what I’d give to be the one biting that lip.

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