I hated him.
I hated that twin with every cell in my body because he leaned forward, smirk deepening, eyes locked on my face like he was searching for every ounce of embarrassment he could wring out of me before Damon snapped and strangled him in front of everyone.
“What did you call him?” he asked casually, like this was a completely normal breakfast conversation. “Daddy, right? Yeah, we all heard it.”
I almost choked to death right there.
I slapped both hands over my face because my brain couldn’t handle it. I was eighteen. I was literally just eighteen. I wasn’t built for this level of public humiliation before my second cup of coffee.
“Oh my God,” I mumbled into my palms, rocking slightly like I was comforting my own soul. “Oh my actual God, I’m going to die. I’m not even going to
