Page 177 of Chaos

I want to kill Ricky for doing this.

Fordaringto. I want to rip him apart with my goddamn bare hands, and it’s killingmethat I can’t, it’s killing me that I kept my suspicions—no, notsuspicions, Iknowit was him,I fucking know it—to myself because I knew giving up his name would douse mine with a little more fuel. It’s my burden, my problem to fix, and it’sfrustrating, and in my experience, that’s a gateway emotion. A prerequisite for anger, and Angry Lottie is Snappy Lottie, and she lashes out, she’scruel, she is not fit for public consumption.

Which is why, as I’m rifling through my underwear drawer, I say, “You don’t have to stay with me.”

“Won’t sleep otherwise.” Coming up beside me, Finn picks through the toiletries littering the top of my dresser, collecting what I use daily and dropping them into a tote bag. Clutching a handful of thongs, I watch the simple act with way too much… I don’t know. Interest.Awe. Like something that takes him five seconds is more than justthat. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

I blink at him as he opens a drawer and fishes out a couple pairs of pajamas. The soft, worn ones I like. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“I’d probably end up there anyway.” He stoops to kiss my cheek, and then he moves to my bed, bending over to grab the duffel bag tucked beneath it. Flipping it open, he drops my things inside. “You sleep wild.”

I throw a pair of panties at him—a poorly thought-out retribution for his teasing, considering how intensely he stares at the scrap of pink fabric before tucking it in his pocket. “You’re not getting these back.”

My lower stomach tightens as I think of all kinds of reasons why he might want to keep a pair of my fucking panties. “Not sure they’re your size.”

A wicked smirk curls his mouth. “They’ll work just fine, baby.”

42

He stares at the brick on her pillow long after she disappears.

He wonders if his suspicions are born of jealousy, panic, or truth.

I spendmost of the morning in the middle of nowhere with Ruin and Grouch.

Which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best idea; three grumps do not make a right, or whatever the saying is.

I’m supposed to be using my surly dog to keep up my surly horse’s sensitivity training, but, thinking retrospectively, I probably should’ve snagged a more docile member of the pack. One’s bad attitude is only fuelling the other’s, and both of them are wearing on my last nerve. Or maybe I’m wearing on theirs—maybe I’m the core of the problem.

Either way, I barely last an hour before giving up.

Dropping the old brown Stetson I got for my thirteenth birthday to the ground, I follow it. Melting snow seeps through my clothes, but I don’t care—I welcome the chill, a balm to the irritation flushing my skin.

When a wet snout noses the exposed strip of skin between my jeans and my sweater, I dutifully oblige the canine request for scratches. A handful of minutes later, a huff of hot air blazes the side of my face. A minute after that, I hear the heavy thump of an equine body dropping to the ground not-so-far away. Stretching out my arm until my fingertips brush a soft, sleek coat, I laugh beneath my breath.

Chaos, Grouch, and Ruin.

What a fucking trio.

I wonder how long we could stay out here before someone comes looking. It wouldn’t be the first time I disappeared into the wilderness and didn’t return until the sun went down—none of my siblings would worry. I think it was a daily occurrence, at one point. I used to come out here and close my eyes, like I do now, and woe-is-me my way into semi-consciousness, and I think I could use some of that, I think—

A sharp whine and a disgruntled snort have my eyes fluttering open. Head rolling in the direction both my animals are squinting, I watch as Finn dismounts his enormous stead. Leaving Gaia a healthy distance away, he starts a slow approach—who his caution is aimed at, I’m honestly not sure.

Tilting my face to the sky again, I warn, “I’m not in a good mood.”

Finn hums, and I hear the tease in it. “I know. Why d’you think I’m out here.”

“Because you’re a masochist?”

“Sure, baby.”

In my peripheral vision, I see Finn drop to a crouch. As he does, Ruin clambers to his feet, exhaling his vehement disapproval with the intruder as he saunters away. Grouch, on the other hand, does the complete opposite. Utterly pathetic, she scooches on her belly towards the only person she likes other than me before rolling onto her back, a clear demand that Finnmore than happily grants. And when Grouch whines as fingers sink into her fur, an irrational pulse of jealousy makes me frown.

Jesus. Men really do make you stupid.

Squinting against the winter sun, I prop myself up on an elbow. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“I’m not.”

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