Page 78 of In Your Wake

I pause, my eyes widening. “Oh, no. Fuck, no, no, no. Fucking hell.”

“My, my. Such a potty mouth,” he tsks, then holds up the tent, exposing the very obvious hole in its roof. He smirks, clearly loving every second of this. “That’s not good.”

“Shhhhiiiitttt.” I drop my head into my hands.

“Is this your tent or…?”

“Hunter’s.”

He hisses through clenched teeth, letting the tent fall. “He’s gonna have your ass for this.”

“Well, obviously you’re giving me your tent,” I state, crossing my arms.

“And why the hell would I do that?”

I point to the heap of blue canvas on the ground. “Um, because this was your fault.”

“This wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes, it was. You were arguing with me and pissed me off and—”

“Oh, please!” he interrupts, laughing. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle your anger.”

“My anger? Seriously, Mitch. Let me have your tent.”

“Umm, no.”

“You could sleep in your big man-car,” I suggest.

“Again, no.” He crouches and studies the tent. “Does anyone have a needle and thread? Or tent patches?” he calls out over his shoulder, but everyone shakes their heads. With a slight wince, Mitchell stands up and crosses his arms. “I guess you can sleep in mine.”

“I can?” I pause for a beat, my mind struggling to catch up. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shakes his head with a smirk. “I’ll do my best to ignore your snoring.”

“I thought you were letting me have it.”

He holds a hand up. “We’re sharing my tent. Unless you want to sleep in my car. You’re welcome to.” He winks, then walks toward the fire pit. Everyone is recovering from our two-hour hike Hunter took us on after lunch.

I shoot daggers at Mitch’s wide back, but follow and overhear him explaining what happened to the others.

“You ripped my tent?” Hunter whines.

“I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new one,” I reply. “But for real, is anyone willing to let me bunk with them tonight?”

The awkward glances the two couples share tell me their answer.

Spencer wraps his arm around Bethany. “We’ll pass.”

Bethany’s eyes crinkle at the corners, mouthing a silent “sorry”.

“I’m sticking with my roommate tonight,” Hunter says, but I’m sure he’s just pissed that I broke the tent he’s had for over twenty years.

“We can’t let her sleep in the car,” Celia insists, but I immediately feel bad. Hunter and Celia’s relationship is brand new, and she so rarely gets a weekend without her daughter, I wouldn’t dream of letting her give up a free night with him.

“It’s okay. I get it. Don’t worry, the car will be fine,” I say with a pout.

Everyone’s gazes land on Mitch, who, after a few seconds of being silently judged, drops his shoulders.