Page 24 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

“Hell, he wasn’t supposed to be going to that thing either,” Theo interjects. “He had already RSVP’d that he was going with you to Castle Beach.”

Anya lets out a sad laugh. “He’s always been like this, twisting things to make me feel guilty.”

I start typing, though Gage gives me a warning look in the rearview mirror, as if to say,Be careful.Not a chance. I tell Calvin he has no right to blame Anya for anything, that we offered to drive her of our own free will, and that it’s none of his business anymore anyway, and hit send.

Only then do I realize it looks like the message is coming from her.

Oh well.

“Hunter—” Anya begins, but I shake my head.

“Trust me.” We wait a few seconds, watching the phone’s screen.

Another text from Calvin pops up:You’re a selfish brat for taking advantage of their generosity. You never knew your place.

I read it aloud, feeling my blood pressure spike. So I reply,You’re a limp-dicked loser who never made me come. My thumbs hit send with a flourish.

Then…silence. No bubbles, no follow-up message. I hope that means he’ll slink away, at least for now.

Anya stares at her phone, lips parted. “Wow,” she murmurs. “Um…accurate, but still. Wow.”

“He needed to be put in his place.”

She nods slightly. “I just hate how he keeps twisting everything like I’m the bad guy in this.”

Theo’s voice floats from the driver’s seat, steady and calm. “You’re free of him now. He can’t control you anymore.”

I glance down at her phone as a social media notification pops up—Calvin’s name again. I click it before she can see, preparing for more venom. It’s not venom. It’s worse.

A photo: Calvin, arms around Brenna. And this isn’t some innocent picture. His hand is clearly on her ass. And they’re in heavy winter coats, standing on snow.

He’s been banging his political consultant for months and decided to post the evidence to hurt Anya.

Not on my watch.

I tap into Anya’s settings, blocking Calvin’s socials without a second thought. The last thing she needs is to see that cruel photo.

With that done, I hand the phone back to her. “No more of his bullshit. Texting him will only upset you. Let him stew in his own pettiness.”

She tucks the phone into her purse. “Thank you, Hunter.”

“Happy to help.”

Our day on the road blurs by in a haze of highway scenery and tension-laden silence whenever Anya’s phone buzzes. But Calvinnever texts again, and eventually, we find ourselves pulling into a small motel in rural North Carolina. It’s late evening, the sun dipping behind the trees, painting the sky a dusky purple.

“Got a single suite, big enough for all of us,” Theo announces, stepping out of the SUV with the reservation info on his phone. “Apparently, it’s their only vacant room. Seems we’re not the only travelers caught by the holiday rush. Two queen beds and a couch.”

Anya looks uncertain, so I say it outright. “I’ll take the couch if no one objects.”

She gives me that shy smile of hers. “Thank you.”

I’d rather share a bed with her, but I’ll take what I can get, and tonight, it’s best if we don’t push her. After a quick dinner at a local diner—cheap fried chicken and biscuits my trainer would forbid—we return to the motel suite.

Anya hovers near the kitchenette counter, fiddling with the edge of her sweater. Gage and Theo turn the lights low and pull the curtains. I catch her eye and stride over, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Everything okay?”

She nods, lips parted. “Yes. Just a lot of emotions. I keep waiting to feel bad about the breakup. But the more I’m away from him, the more that relationship feels like a bad dream.”

“Good. You deserve to be happy.”