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He lets out another heavy breath—his eyes more focused on the dirt. “When I broke my neck, I was more concerned about trying the triple again than I was about being able to walk.”
“What does that have to do with getting married?”
He looks up at me, his vulnerability never more evident than it is now. “I’m more nervous about losing her as my best friend than I am about marrying her. What if being married changes our relationship?”
I think about his words. “I’m not really a good person to ask on this one. Maybe you should talk to Ricky. He might have some words of wisdom for ya.”
Shade snorts, digging the toe of his riding boot into the dirt. “He’s the last person I should ask about marriage. He’s been dating Willa for how many years and still hasn’t bailed over the cliff yet.”
I probably shouldn’t say anything, but if Tiller knows, everyone will soon. “They’re married.”
“What?” His eyes snap to mine. “When?”
“July. They’re both wearing rings now.”
“Holy shit. They’ve been married for almost three months and they didn’t tell us?”
“They waited until Berlin was born before they told us they fucked. Why are you so surprised?”
He shrugs, his eyes on the distance. Smiling, he nods. “Cam-man!”
We take a lunch break when Camden shows up. I make them pizza and text Ophelia three more times. Nothing. Now I’m starting to get pissed off. How can I be a good boyfriend if she won’t reply to a simple dick picture? I check my phone once more to make sure I sent it to her and not Willa again. I’ve done that before.
Just so you know, the text went to Ophelia and she’s fucking ignoring me. Bullshit.
“How’d your date with Yamaha go?” Tiller asks, finally able to walk again and staring at his bottle of water like he wishes it was cocaine.
“Don’t call her Yamaha.” Camden shoves Tiller away from him and reaches for another slice of pizza. “Roan, you make the best wood-fired pizza I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
I wink at him, but then notice something red on his neck. “Did you get sauce on your neck, Cam-man?”
His face turns the color of pizza sauce. “No.”
Tiller, the ass he is, grabs Camden’s face and yanks him toward him. “That’s a fuckin’ hickey, ya little slut!”
“I’m not a slut!” Camden shouts, shoving him away. “I kissed her.”
“And Yamaha sucked on your neck?”
“Stop calling her that. She has a name. It’s Gia.”
Tiller laughs. “I don’t care what her name is.” He slaps his hand to Camden’s back and then reaches for another slice of pizza. “I have a date with a pint-sized ballerina,” he says but just before he leaves the room, he yells over his shoulder, “Bag it up, bro.”
Camden frowns, a heavy sigh emitting through him. “He’s such a jerk sometimes.”
Shade and I laugh, and I try to think about what it was like to be thirteen. I was most certainly doing more than giving girls hickeys at his age, but surprisingly, I wasn’t having sex. I can’t even remember who my first time was with, but I distinctly recall it coinciding with the motocross world championship I won, so I was fifteen.
An hour later, we’re heading back out to the track when Scarlet, Amberly, and Ophelia return. They were out dress shopping apparently. I think she told me that, but I don’t remember the conversation. I’m not exactly nice to Ophelia when she greets me, for ignoring me. “What the fuck was that about?” I ask, cornering her in the den away from the prying eyes of my brothers.
Ophelia rolls her eyes, her hands sweeping over my shoulders to my lower stomach. “What now?”
My jaw clenches when she reaches inside my riding pants and palms my dick. “You ignored my texts.”
“My phone died.”
“I expect you to answer me when I text you. Make sure your phone is always charged. No matter what.” You’re thinking I’m joking, aren’t you? When I said I’d be a good boyfriend, I meant needy, controlling, and borderline obsessive.
Just kidding. Kind of. All the above loosely applies to me given my current mood.