Gage
I didn’t need to know Bree well to figure out she was pissed—it was evident every time her eyes cut across the space between us. And not just pissed. No, the fury was laced with something else, something that hollowed me out worse than any glare could: hurt. Her blue eyes shone with it, a kind of betrayal that twisted my gut until it was nothing but knots. They glistened with the sting of backstabbing, and I knew damn well I had been the one to put it there.
“Bree,” I tried, my voice low as I followed her out of Rachel’s cabin, trailing after her like some desperate shadow. She was heading straight for ours, her pace quick, but it didn’t matter—my legs devoured the distance in a heartbeat. “Bree, please.”
“Not right now, Gage,” she seethed, the words slicing sharp enough to sting.
