“She left us,” Hazel says like it’s not a big deal and totally normal, when it isn’t. “But we have Tate now.”
That ache from earlier is back and more painful than before. If I ever meet the bitch, I am going to knock her teeth out for what she did to Hazel and Maddox.
The woman’s eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she whispers. I hope the nosy bitch chokes on her fake apology.
“It’s okay. I like Tate more,” Hazel replies to the woman, walking right by her as she says it.
“I made it,” Wylder says as he comes up behind me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I was just talking to…”
The woman doesn’t hide her sneer as she says, “Camilla.”
A stuck-up name for a stuck-up woman. Serendipity.
“I’m Wylder. Hazel’s father.”
“Credence’s mother,” she says, finally letting her bitch smile drop.
“I’m going to go say goodbye to Hazel, and then we can dip,” he says as he brushes his hand across my back. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, relishing the light touch. “I’ll chat with Camilla.”
Wylder jogs up the steps to the cabin, giving Camilla a brief chin thrust like she’s one of his buddies.
But instead of chatting, Camilla and I stare at each other, totally silent.
Thankfully, Wylder’s back outside a moment later. “She’s settling in. Ready?”
“Yep,” I snap, still holding Camilla’s gaze.
He slides his arm around my body, turning me around. “Later, Cammy,” Wylder calls as we walk away.
Damn it. I wish I could’ve seen her face. I bet her lips were puckered up like a tight asshole from the nickname. I’m sure no one has ever called her Cammy. It’s way too casual for a woman with her attitude.
“She was pleasant,” Wylder says to me as he guides me down the gravel-covered path.
“You can’t be serious,” I mutter.
“If she was wound any tighter, she’d be a knot,” he jokes, pulling me against him until our hips bump. “She reminds me of someone I know.”
I bump him back. “I hope you’re not talking about me.”
“I meant my ex.”
Camilla is exactly how I picture Katie. Neither one of them is anything like me…thank God.
“Thanks for coming with me today. It meant a lot to the girls.”
I turn my head to face him. “And you?” I ask.
“You’re so needy.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He tips his head down, brushing his lips against my forehead. “And me too.”
“Better,” I tell him, smirking at the validation and probably neediness too. “I wanted to be here for the girls.”
