“Hey,” I said quietly.
His movements stopped, but he didn’t turn around.
“I didn’t know,” I began.
Silence.
“I didn’t know how badly I’d hurt you,” I tried again. “Xander, I’m so—”
“I don’t care.” His voice was low and rough and he still didn’t turn around. “Keep your meaningless apologies to yourself. It was a long time ago, Bennett. I’m over it.”
Yeah, right.
“You never said goodbye,” I said, hating how needy I sounded. “I came to find you that night and you were gone. The cottage was completely empty. I didn’t even know where you’d gone.”
He finally turned around and narrowed his eyes at me. “Did it matter? It’s not like you gave a shit at that point anyway. You’d made that perfectly clear during your little pool party with your friends.”
Pain shot through my gut at the mention of the night when everything had changed between us forever. The last time I’d seen him for almost fifteen years. I’d literally had seconds to choose between losing Xander for that night or losing him forever. I’d chosen that night, but it had ended up being forever anyway. I still didn’t understand how it had happened.
“I made a mistake,” I whispered.
Xander stepped forward, so close I could see the sunny streaks of blond in his long brown hair. Then he got into my face, and I could see the whiskers on his jaw and the brightness of eyes I’d looked into a thousand times before.
“I. Don’t. Care,” he repeated. His words were said with a coldness I’d never heard before and it chilled me to the bone. He wasn’t the Xander I’d known as a child. He was different. Harsher, more defensive and belligerent. I wanted my Xander back— the one who’d sung “Who Let the Dogs Out” every single time I’d accidentally left the door to his dad’s cottage open and his dog, Sputnik, had gotten out. I’d always worried he’d get mad at me. Since we hadn’t had a dog in the main house, I’d always forgotten to look out for Sput.
But Xander never had gotten mad at me. He’d just sung the song at full volume to punish me until we’d either found the dog or dissolved into fits of laughter and Mr. Reed had been forced to take over the search. And then the song would be on my mind for days after. So, I’d done my best to pay him back with an ear worm of my own. The more annoying, the better.
Frustration and a keen sense of helplessness went through me, and I reverted to the same self-defense mechanism that had served me well when we’d been children. I spun on my heel and grabbed some of the wood from the pile he’d created before walking back toward camp, singing the song from Frozen at the top of my lungs.
“Do you wanna build a snowman?”
“Bastard,” I heard him mutter from behind me, though I could sense the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice too. At least it was better than the dreaded silence or the hate-filled anger.
“Oh, don’t like that one? Hmm… how about this? Let it go, let it goooooo…”
Chapter 5
Xander
If I could have tuned out Bennett’s voice, I would have. As it stood, I’d already spent enough time away from the campsite that the kids had to be wondering what the hell kind of a wilderness guide I was, since I spent more time on the wilderness part and less time on the guide part. After Bennett had left me alone so I could finish collecting the firewood, I’d had to force myself to return to the campsite before darkness fell so I could help get the fire going and make sure everyone had gotten their tents set up. To my surprise, the fire had been started and the kids had been working on some kind of team-building activity that Bennett and Aiden had been directing. I hadn’t stuck around long enough to see what it was, because as soon as my eyes had met Bennett’s across the small space, I’d felt trapped, and all the humiliation from our earlier encounter had come rushing back to me.
I hadn’t meant to admit what Bennett’s defection had done to me, and I most certainly hadn’t wanted Bennett’s boyfriend to have that kind of ammunition to use against me. It was clear as day that the guy hated me, a feeling that was very, very mutual. I’d ended up taking Bear down to the water so he could have a quick swim. I’d sat on one of the logs near the shoreline and waited for that normal peace that being out in the wilderness so often brought me, but the chatter and laughter drifting down from the small rise of the campsite had proven to be too much of a distraction.