DAXTON POV
I woke up with the worst hangover I’d had in months. My head pounded like someone was banging a hammer inside my skull, and my mouth felt like I’d been chewing on sandpaper. I groaned, pushing myself upright, feeling the weight of last night’s whiskey still thick in my veins. Half a bottle, split with Henry, and all in the name of drowning our frustration.
Frustration about *her*.
Maria.
I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to shake off the lingering haze. The memory of her with that guy—James—made my blood boil even now. Seeing him kiss her, hands all over her like he had any right to touch what was mine… ours. It wasn’t just the kiss, though. It was the way she laughed with him, the way she smiled at him, that easy way she had with him that she never showed with us anymore
