“Wyatt? It’s a spelled like Y-A-T.”
“What’s his last name?”
Her shrugs. “Umm…deputy?”
That’s his damn job, not his name, but it’s all the confirmation I need. Lana and he used to bicker like siblings whenever they were in the same room, and for the longest time I thought they hated each other.
To think you once considered him a friend.
My ears pounds from the blood rushing through my body, bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. Of all the people I thought I could trust, Wyatt was pretty high up on that list. We spent most summers together, and he even visited me twice in Denver while I was attending university. When Lana and I were together, whether we were just friends avoiding the inevitable or officially starting to date, he never seemed the least bit interested in her.
Probably because he was biding his time until you fucked everything up indefinitely.
My muscles strain underneath my shirt as I allow myself to acknowledge the emotion I have no right to feel.
Jealousy. It has a mind of its own, devouring all rational thoughts. Deep down, I know that I have no right to be jealous when I’m the one who left. Except I trusted Wyatt to watch after her for me.
Sounds like he did a lot more than that.
I’m glad Wyatt and I aren’t friends anymore. It’ll make it all the easier for me to kick his ass once I get a hold of him again.
What if he is the man who you saw kissing Lana outside of Last Call Bar two years ago?
“The fucking snake,” I blurt out.
Cami gasps.
I flinch. “Shit.”
Her mouth drops open.
“Damn?” My voice cracks.
She shakes her head back and forth. I sigh as I pull out my wallet yet again and hand her three more hundred-dollar bills. The way her eyes light up as she squeezes the money is kind of endearing.
You’re into kids now?
No, but their fascination with money is pretty funny.
“Are you okay, Cow-l?”
Get a hold of yourself.
I unclench my fists. “I better get going.”
She follows behind me like a shadow.
“Camila!” Lana shouts.
We both look up to find Lana stomping down the front steps.
“Busted,” Cami mumbles under her breath. She looks identical to Lana with how she averts everyone’s gaze when in trouble.
Lana rushes over to us and props her hand on her hip like her mother did whenever she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Which, no thanks to me, was a lot.
“Why do you insist on talking to strangers after everything we have talked about?”
Being referred to as a stranger shouldn’t sting, but it does, especially after learning that Wyatt is involved in Lana’s daughter’s life now that I’m out of the picture. It proves that no matter what history Lana and I have, it’s just that.