55. Wyatt
CHAPTER 55
WYATT
C am’s mouth is hanging open, and so is mine.
“Stella, what are you talking about? What happened?”
When there’s no response, I stretch to look over the fence, and she’s already on her way back to the house.
“Stella!”
She turns, giving me a glimmer of hope, but all she says is, “Please stop contacting me,” and then she goes inside.
“She’s gone,” I say, though Cam’s also looking over the fence, so he already knows.
“What did we do?” he says.
My brain spins, tracing through memories, starting with our most recent encounter and working backward, desperately searching for anything that might have caused her abrupt change in attitude.
She called us terrible choices. Said we weren’t good enough men to be around her daughter.
“She brought us muffins,” Cam mutters, dumbfounded, just like me.
“The way she’s acting now, I’m afraid they might be poisoned.”
“What the hell happened?” He looks over the fence again, then shakes his head, his eyes wide but blinking in disbelief.
“I can’t think of anything. Things were fine last we talked to her.”
“Maybe she saw something on our channel? Some old thing she didn’t like?” Cam slides out his phone and I’m prepared for him to start scrolling, but he stops right at the top of the feed.
“What the fuck?”
There’s a new reel, and even from my upside down vantage point, Cam’s hand going down his pants is unmistakable.
“What did she do?” He lets it play again, the kissy face at the camera, him holding a kite like it’s his dick, his hand going down his pants again. “Why the fuck did Trish post this?”
Cam swipes to his contacts and jabs at Trish’s name. The call rings with no answer.
“That must be what Stella saw,” I mutter. “She must think we’re idiots.”
I pull the reel up on my own phone and watch it, seeing it through her eyes, and it looks ten times worse that way. Of course, someone who’s a responsible parent doesn’t want to be involved with men who post shit like this. “Fuck!”
Cam’s phone buzzes, and Trish’s name is on the screen. He answers and puts the call on speaker.
“Trish, what did you do?”
“Did you see the way that reel’s blowing up? It’s going to be your best one yet!” she says, sounding excited and proud.
“You weren't supposed to use that footage.”
“But look at the response! Once I saw it, I realized it made no sense not to use it. The engagements are through the roof, and your follower numbers are growing by the second.”
That’s the kind of interaction we’ve been thriving on, but it means nothing now. This is a disaster.
I swipe through the comments and want to throw up.
Let’s just say, if Cam ever needs someone to hold his dick for him, there are a lot of volunteers.
“You need to take it down right now,” he tells Trish.
“Are you serious?”
“Never mind. I’ll take it down. Talk to you later.” Cam ends the call, taps on his phone, and the post disappears.
But the damage is already done.