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I curse. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”

“What? No. That’s OK.”

I scowl harder. Not happening. It’s not very often I try to do a nice thing, and here I am doing it for this girl and she’s going to try to stop me? Not a chance.

I grab her hand and lead her to my bike, pulling off my jacket and holding it out for her. “Put this on.”

She blinks but does as I say.

I practically shove my helmet over her head. Her red hair is so long it trails from beneath the bottom of the helmet. At least now I can’t see her tear-stained cheeks anymore.

“Get on. And hold tight. You’re staying at Bella Vista Bed and Breakfast, right?”

SEVEN

Olivia

Noah speeds off the moment my key turns in the lock of the door, the engine of his bike making an angry buzz as he zooms off down the street. It’s loud in the quiet of the night in this sleepy little town. It makes me wince.

I guess he’s not interested in forgive and forget.

I tried. I knew I’d never be able to rest until I had.

Trouble is, even when I’ve brushed my teeth and climbed into bed, I still can’t seem to drift off. I just keep running over our conversation—or lack of—in my head again and again.

He’s just as handsome in his human form. He looks grumpier, or maybe that’s just because he was grumpy with me tonight and with good reason.

With a sigh, I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand. The screen is bright in the dim light of my room.

I stare at the pop-up banner at the top of my screen in astonishment. 99+ notifications. That can’t be right. I’ve barely posted anything lately. I guess I’ve put The Snapper on the map at least.

When I open Instagram, I’m flooded with messages. One hundred people have liked your post. Two hundred. Five. I’ve been tagged in hundreds of messages and there are almost four hundred comments on the video I posted hours ago.

Usually I’d be delighted. This would be a very good day. When I open the first comment in my notifications, though, a sick feeling settles in my stomach.

Should have stayed missing. No wonder he left her. Just look at her.

The next message down is the same.

On and on until my hands are shaking and my throat is aching with unshed tears.

Why are people like this? None of these people know me at all. I’m just a name and a picture to them.

My private messages are just as bad. Seventy-two new messages alone!Grillmstr.Greg has shared an article with you. Forknspoon has shared an article with you. Bellabakes has shared an article with you.

It goes on and on. All the links are to the same article. They’re all from fans. Many of them have kind messages, but it doesn’t matter. The effect is the same as the comments from the trolls.

Broken Hearted Olivia Zeston Resurfaces in the Outback.

I know I shouldn’t look. It’s only going to make this worse. But nothing can stop me clicking on the link.

I’m taken to a short reel. It’s a clip of Justin and Rechelle standing close and talking after a workout. They’re both wearing lycra, looking gorgeous and tanned. It’s a bit of a stab in the guts seeing Justin looking so good. Then they turn away from the camera and he slides a hand from her waist to her ass and gives it a little squeeze.

My stomach flips.

He said there was someone else. He said we were over. That doesn’t make me want to throw up any less after seeing that.

The same day we broke up?