Chapter 50

Archer

I’ve always been well-organized and clean, maybe even to the point of mild OCD. So living with four other people for the last few weeks has been an interesting experiment and a definite test of my patience. The differences between me and my cabin-mates is more apparent than ever right now as we try to track down our belongings in the madness and chaos of the small dwelling.

I’m folding a handful of Ridge’s shirts into a bag when Trystan strides into the living room, looking frustrated.

“Where’s my shirt?” he demands.

I pause in my folding and exchange irritated glances with Ridge, who’s on the other side of the couch shoving supplies into another bag. Between us, Dare is sound asleep, seemingly unbothered by all the commotion. Or too drugged up on painkillers to even notice.

“I haven’t touched your shirt,” I say evenly, dropping a t-shirt on top of the folded clothes inside my bag. “What did you do with it when you took it off?”

Trystan and I arrived here with literally only th