Still smiling, Leisel placed her hand on Joshua’s arm. “Did I hear you mention that it might rain tonight—maybe Logan could help you hang the tarps over the unfinished cabins?”
I stared at Leisel, stone-faced. There wasn’t a single person at this table that thought it might rain tonight. Most people hadn’t survived this long without forming an up close and personal relationship with Mother Nature.
Joshua coughed into his hand. “You know what, I think that’s a good idea—Logan, would you mind giving me a hand?”
“Happy to,” I bit out. Leaving my untouched food, I was out of my seat and across the room before Joshua had even stood. Outside, I didn’t bother waiting for him, seeing as there wasn’t actually any rain to be concerned about. Forgoing the path, I cut straight through the grass center of camp, headed toward the water.
Marching myself across the rocky beach and onto the boat dock, I folded my arm across my chest and peered into the water beyond, watching it ripple softly toward the shore, gently rocking the docked boats in time with the waves… leaving me wondering how long it would be before Lucas was gently rocking inside of Willow.
Violent, ugly things welled up inside me; slapping the palms of my hands over my eyes, I spun away from the water with an angry growl.
“Hey, watch it!”
Dropping my hands, I found Ella stumbling backward over the dock. Holding her flask in hand, there was wet splashed over the front of her shirt.
“Sorry,” I muttered, backing away.
“Oh, it’syou,” she slurred. “I guess I can forgiveyou, what with your brother coming back from the dead and taking his girlfriend back an’ all.” She let out a nasty laugh. “I mean, I’m assuming they’re back together, right—that’s what that big, ridiculous scene at the gate was all about? And that’s why you’re out here pouting?”
I went still, scowling at her. “Do you ever think about not speaking, and maybe shutting the fuck up for once?”
“Nope,” she said, shrugging as she staggered. “Hey—you want some?” She shook her flask at me. “You look like you need it.”
I stared at the flask, swallowing hard. At this point, what did it matter? What else did I have to lose? I’d already lost the only good thing I’d ever had—the only person who’d ever made me feel… somewhat normal.
“You know what—fuck it.” Snatching the flask from her hand, I brought it to my mouth. As the liquor burned a hot path down my throat, leaving me sputtering and coughing. Ella started to laugh. “Aw, Logan’s a lightweight,” she mocked in a singsong voice.
Glaring at her, I proceeded to down the remaining liquid, breathing fire through my next several breaths. It hit me quickly—a warm rush down the center of me that left me wanting more. I shook the empty flask. “Where’s the rest?”
Ella’s lips split into an impish smile as her fingers beckoned me. “Follow me.”
“He’s my… brother,” I muttered. “Of course I love him.”
Seated around a small metal folding table inside Ella’s cabin, Ell and I passed a half empty bottle of scotch between us.
“But you love Willow more, right?” Slumping forward, Ella drunkenly wagged her finger at me. “It’ssss okay, you can tell me. I will not tell a single, solitary person.”
I tried to glare at her, managing only more or less a blurry-eyed squint. “I’m not telling… you… jack… fucking… shit.”
“I knew these guys who were like brothers,” she said, grabbing hold of the bottle and slouching back in her seat. “Oliver and Anthony…” Taking a swig of scotch, she continued. “Oli and Ant…” She took another swig. “I loved Oli and Ant loved me and everything got… messy. Hey, that rhymed.” Snorting, Ella continued to drink until scotch was dribbling down her chin.
“Ant?” I frowned at her. “Ant… from Everdeen?” I’d spoken to Lucas’s new friend only long enough to thank him for helping my brother. We’d been otherwise occupied evacuating their camp after that.
“That’ssss him,” Ella said, again pointing her finger at me. “Dark eyes, dark hair, kinda looks like a bargain-basement Jason Momoa. You should stay away from him—he’s a bad guy.”
“Huh.” I leaned back in my chair, gazing up at the ceiling, feeling warm and numb and without a care in the world. No wonder my father loved to drink—a couple of swigs and you could forget how to feel.
Feeling a weight drop down over my legs, I startled upright. Ella was straddling my lap, pressing the bottle to my lips. “Drink up,” she laughed, pouring aimlessly and spilling it down the front of my shirt. “Oopsy-daisy.”
Grabbing the bottle from her, I leaned my head back, taking a long swallow while Ella began wriggling on top of me. “Stop,” I growled, grabbing her hip and holding her still.
“Why?” She giggled, grinding herself over my growing erection. “There’s no more girlfriend to worry about, right? And you obviously like it.”
I did like it… sort of. In my warm, numbed state of existence, it certainly felt good. Only, the more aroused my body grew, the more my thoughts turned to Willow. Willow and…Lucas. Cursing, I resumed drinking until Ella snatched the bottle away and began guzzling what was left. Coughing through her laughter, she sent the empty bottle rolling across the table. “And that’s the last of the good stuff.” She turned back to me. “Now where were we?”
Bleary-eyed and feeling sluggish, I blinked at her as her mouth came crashing against mine, kissing me with cold, thin lips that felt nothing like Willow’s. She continued to rock over my lap as her hands slipped beneath my shirt.
“Mmmm,” she moaned. “You’re as hard as you look.”
