Dirty Little Mistake (Hard to Love #2)

Chapter 29

Camryn

I balanced my phone between ear and shoulder, wrestling with my keys. "Do you want to come over and watch a movie?"

"Uh, no." Kaia's voice wavered. "I, uh…"

My spine stiffened at the telltale stutter. "Kai." I dropped my keys into my palm. "You stutter when you're about to lie."

A nervous laugh crackled through the phone. "I can't tonight." The door swung open to darkness, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. "But call me later."

"Okay." I traced my fingers along the wall, searching for the light switch. "If your plans fall through. Come over. I'm free tonight."

I was practically free every night. This whole long-distance relationship sucked.

She snickered, and I narrowed my eyes. "What's going on?"

"I gotta go. Love you." And she was gone.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the blank screen for a moment. "That was definitely weird." Like when she'd tried to plan a surprise party for my birthday only to end up completely giving it away because she was a terrible liar.

I dropped my boxing gear bag on the floor and flicked on a light in the living room.

"I need a shower," I said, trying to fill the quiet house. "And then popcorn and movie." Trystan would call once he had a chance, but that wouldn't be until later.

I pounded up the stairs, flicking on lights as I went so the big house wouldn't feel so empty.

Throwing open my bedroom door, I froze.

"Oh my god." The whisper came out in a rush. One candle flickered by the door. Then another. And another. My gaze followed their trail, each flame leading deeper into the room until—roses. Everywhere. Blood-red petals scattered across every surface, vase after vase filled with dozens of red roses, their sweet scent filling the air.

"I..." My heart stuttered. "Who would..."

My phone rang, and my pulse jumped at the sight of Trystan's name. I slid right, and there he was—hair still damp from a post-show shower, dark hair falling across his forehead in that way that always made my fingers itch to brush it back. The familiar shadow of stubble along his jaw couldn't hide his dimples as he grinned.

"Did you do this?"

"Do you like it?" Even through the screen, his eyes caught the candlelight.

A familiar warmth spread through my chest—the same feeling I got every time he looked at me like that, like I was the only person in his world.

"I love it." My voice came out softer than intended, almost reverent. "But how?"

"Kaia helped," he answered. "I wanted to take you on a date even though we are hundreds of miles away."

I smiled, the awkward conversation between Kaia and me suddenly making a lot more sense now.

"This is… amazing."

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Kaia put food on the table." My gaze shifted over the room spotting a covered plate on the table next to one of the candles.

"So, how does this work?" I slid into the chair at the table.

"Put the phone in the stand." The white phone stand waited beside an arrangement of tea lights, their flames reflecting off the polished surface of a silver dome. I adjusted my phone until Trystan's face aligned perfectly in the frame, the candlelight softening his features. Behind him, his hotel room faded into warm shadows, making it feel like we existed in our own private bubble. "Now, we eat a meal together. Like a date."

The setup transformed my usual study corner into an intimate café for two. A crisp white tablecloth draped over my desk, its corners brushing against my knees. Crystal stemware caught and scattered the candlelight. A single red rose lay across my napkin, its petals still beaded with moisture.

When I lifted the silver dome, a cloud of steam rose that momentarily obscured Trystan's face on the screen. The aroma hit me in waves—first the sharp kick of cayenne, then the earthy warmth of paprika, followed by the rich undertones of butter and herbs. The plate beneath was a work of art, the food arranged with the same care I'd seen in expensive restaurants, making this corner of my bedroom feel like the most exclusive dining room in the city.

They'd both gone to a lot to make this special for me.

My stomach fluttered. This was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.

My stomach growled, but I couldn't look away from his face on the screen, couldn't stop watching how his eyes softened when they met mine.

"What are you having?"

He smiled. "Steak. I ordered from the hotel restaurant."

"Mmm… Yummy."

Trystan twirled his fork between his fingers. "So, how was boxing practice?"

I rolled my shoulders, still feeling the burn from today's session. "It was good. I'm getting better." Steam rose from my plate as I shoved my fork into the noodles, stirring it together. "How was traveling today?"

He scrubbed a hand down his face, dark circles visible even through the phone screen. "It was long, and Creed snores so fucking loud. I don't think I've slept in three days."

"Where's everyone tonight?" The question came out between bites.

"They all went with the guys from Wicked Sinners to a club." His hotel room's ceiling fan cast rotating shadows behind him.

My fork paused halfway to my mouth. "You didn't want to go?"

He set down his knife, his fingers drumming once against the table. "The only place I'd want to be other than here with you, is there with you."

My fingers tightened around my fork. Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading until even my fingertips tingled.

How did he still do this to me, even through a phone screen?

"I wish I was there."

"I can book you a plane ticket tonight. You just say when."

"I wish I could," I lied. I already had my tickets to see his last concert, but I wanted to surprise him just like he'd surprised me tonight. "Everything is kind of hectic with school and practice right now."

"Only a couple more weeks and I'll be home, and then you are all mine."

"All yours."

"Actually," he said, "make sure you have no plans the first forty-eight hours after I get home."

"Forty-eight hours," my eyes widened. "What are we going to do for forty-eight hours?"

His gorgeous lips curved into a grin, and he winked before bouncing his brows. "Can't give all my secrets away." His gaze dropped to his food. "But I can tell you it will be clothing optional."

"Oh." I smirked. "So I can wear clothes."

He shrugged. "As long as I can take them off you."

My skin heated, and my stomach fluttered as the thought of our last time together flooded my memories.

"I miss you." The words escaped before I could catch them, hanging in the air between us like a confession. My throat tightened—it was different saying it like this, raw and unplanned, not our usual casual conversation. In the quiet of my rose-filled room, it felt like admitting how much power he had over my heart.

"I miss you too." His tongue swept across his lips, lingering on his lip ring. "This lifestyle's crazy, you know. You're constantly surrounded by people, but you feel so alone."

My chest ached at the weariness in his voice, at the shadow that crossed his face. I knew that feeling intimately—the hollow echo of an empty house, the way laughter died in empty rooms. But while my solitude was measured in square feet, his was measured in stadium seats. He'd never know how perfectly his words mirrored my nights spent watching his concert videos, feeling simultaneously surrounded by thousands and completely alone.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway." He was obviously uncomfortable with the vulnerability in his statement.

"I bet the groupies are way better on tour."

"The only groupie I’m interested in is this cute little brunette who's always up front, singing along to every song back home."

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah, she's kind of obsessed with me."

"Obsessed might be too strong of a word."

"Nah, ‘cause I'm kind of obsessed with her too." The tone of his voice shifted lower, more seductive, and I wanted to kiss him so freaking bad.

A sound came from Trystan's room, and his gaze shot up. "Hey, I gotta go. Jazz is here."

"Okay." I smiled. "Text me later if you can." I reached forward to hit the end call button.

"Cam..." His voice dropped lower, carrying that rough edge that always preceded his most honest moments. When I met his gaze through the screen, the raw vulnerability there stole my breath—it was the same look he'd worn the first time he'd kissed me, like he was terrified and certain all at once. "I love you."

For a heartbeat, time suspended. The words weren't new—he'd said them before—but something about hearing them here, surrounded by the physical proof of how far he'd go to make me feel close to him, made them feel different. Made them feel infinite. My chest swelled with an emotion too big for my body, pressing against my ribs until I thought they might crack under the pressure of containing it all.

"I love you too." The words came out thick with everything I couldn't express—how proud I was of him living his dream, how much it hurt to watch him do it from afar, how grateful I was that he still made space for me in his ever-expanding world.

I hit the end call button. My screen went black, and I immediately missed him.

I twisted in my chair, taking in the constellation of candlelight reflecting off dozens of crystal vases. Each rose was a promise, each petal a reminder that distance was just geography. Nothing more. Even separated by hundreds of miles, he could still make my bedroom feel like the most intimate space in the world.