one of them, my elbow colliding with his stomach, and he grunts. I cringe, praying Ethan and his group haven’t spotted us.
“Sorry! I’m sorry.”
He shakes off my apology, unbothered, and then they’re gone, leaving me there alone in the bunkhouse with my back pressed against the wall, my breathing completely erratic.
I’d just stay here all weekend if I could, but I have nothing with me: no clothes, no food, nothing to do to distract me for three long days. It’s the food that would really end up forcing me out of hibernation. I could scavenge for berries behind the bunkhouses, but I don’t know the first thing about which ones are edible or not. Chances are I’d end up poisoning myself. I’d hate to give Ethan the satisfaction.
I know I’ll have to cave and show my face eventually, so I decide it’s better to get it over with now.
I’ll introduce myself and explain that the cabin is all theirs after I gather my things. On my way back to the bunkhouse, I’ll grab some food then strip one of these beds, wash the linens, and hide out here all weekend.
It’s fine.
It will be fine.
Just as soon as I get this awkward introduction over with.
Chapter 23
Taylor
Walking out of that bunkhouse is on par with pulling myself up out of the trenches on a battlefield and walking toward enemy fire with no protection, no shield, nada. Ethan and his friends notice me walking toward them right away and I’m left to close the last several yards with eight pairs of eyes aimed straight at me.
I try to imagine what I look like to them: dusty and dirty from a long day of work. I’m wearing a Lockwood Construction t-shirt Hudson gave me a few weeks ago. I thought he was just being nice. Now, I realize it might have been his way of flirting. My jeans are ill-fitting. My work boots are scuffed and muddy. My hair is up in a high ponytail, and I haven’t looked in a mirror all day so there’s no telling how many wispy pieces have snuck out to curl at my temples, making me look childish. It’s a shame because I want so badly to appear half as intimidating as they do.
I wish it made sense to apply a full face of makeup before a day on a construction site. I wish I were wearing a trendy outfit, just so that dark-haired girl with the red lipstick would stop staring at me like I’m raw sewage seeping up from the gutter.
She’s the first one I spot, not only because of her sour expression but because she’s standing closest to Ethan, her hand resting on his arm possessively. The sight is the final crushing blow to what has been an all-around terrible day. For some silly reason, I’d dismissed the idea of Ethan having a girlfriend. Once I found out who Isla really was, I just assumed there was no one else. It’s not as if I’ve heard him talking to a girlfriend, but then we’re not together all day, every day, even if it sometimes feels that way.
If he is dating her, it has to be a recent development considering what happened between us in that bar—either that or he cheated on her. I discard that thought immediately. While Ethan might have a list of bad qualities that could stretch a mile long, I don’t think being a cheater is one of them.
“Taylor!” a feminine voice calls, and my attention flies to the woman on the other side of Ethan, the one not only waving me over but doing so with a giant smile on her face, a smile that looks eerily familiar. His sister. Isla. I blink fast, trying to reconcile how it’s possible that she could look so much like her brother and yet completely feminine at the same time. I realize they share the same eyes and the same mouth, but her chin is heart-shaped and demure. Her hair—the same rich brown as his—is shoulder-length and curled. She’s closer to my height than his and must have soaked up all the positive energy in their house growing up, because while her brother is a stormy raincloud, she’s a ray of sunshine.
“I knew it was you the second I saw you,” she says, coming forward and wrapping me up in a tight hug as if we’re the closest of friends.
I freeze with my hands at my sides, completely taken aback, but if my nonresponse