Chapter 24
24
Cameron
Joey’s eyes practically bugged out of her head when I told her I’d looked her up on Instagram, so I didn’t mention how far I scrolled back or how long I spent studying each of her images. She probably would have thrown me off this cliff if she knew. Jealousy bubbled up inside me, hot and ugly, when I scrolled back far enough to see that her grid still included pictures of her with her ex from more than a year ago.
The most recent image was one she took at the nude beach yesterday. I had to zoom in to be certain, but sure enough, my bare back was in the frame, sticking out from the water. If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have known it was me. The caption, Not a bad view, made me smile.
Joey made a comment about her mom last year, so when she explained the premise of her book, it was easy to assume that it was at least partially based on her experience.
As we journey down the ancient stairs, blanketed with shade from the mountain, she’s got her lips pressed together and her brow furrowed in concentration. In this moment, I want nothing more than to be the person she leans on while she finds her way .
“Do you have siblings?”
“Nope,” she huffs, reaching for my hand at the same time I hold it out to help her navigate around a giant rock. Nobody warned us this hike was so treacherous.
“No siblings. It was always just my mom, my dad, and me.” A delicate grin slips out.
“The Three Musketeers.”
“There you go quoting The Holiday again.” Her eyes crinkle at the sides.
“What was your dad like?” I keep my tone light, going for nonchalant, but I ask anyway.
She purses her lips and ducks her head, likely unused to being asked about him. Just as she lifts her head and opens her mouth (probably to tell me to fuck off), we turn a corner and are met by the Katholiko Monastery, a church carved into a rock and nestled alongside a breathtaking bridge built of orangey-red bricks.
“This is one of the oldest monasteries in Crete.”
“You’re like a walking encyclopedia, aren’t you?” she teases.
With a laugh, I lean into the spiel, hoping I don’t sound too much like a dull history teacher. “This monastery is from the eleventh century, but six centuries later, the monks abandoned it due to frequent pirate attacks.”
“Stop it before I feel like I have to pay you for this kind of knowledge.” She nudges me with her shoulder.
Oh honey, I can think of several ways you could pay me.
Together, with our sneakers firmly planted on the ground and my hand secured around Joey’s waist, we peer over the edge of the bridge. Per my quick Google search this morning, there was once a river below. Now, though, a collection of olive trees grows.
“How do we get down there?” She backs up and spins in a circle, scanning our surroundings .
“Over here,” I call out when I spot two small red and white dashes painted on a rock, signaling the trail.
I descend the rocky path first. Though it turns out to be pretty stable, I pivot to help Joey anyway. Because of her shorter legs, she has to face the rocks and scale down like she’s descending a ladder at one point. Her foot slips, and I instinctively reach out to guide her. As I do, I end up palming the back pocket of her cutoff jeans.
“Cameron,” she reprimands, her tone full of mirth.
“Yes, Josefine?” I feign innocence.
“You can take your hand off my ass now.”
“I think I should make sure you get down safely first.” I give her bum a good squeeze. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
She snorts. “I’d hate to disrupt the patriarchy, Mr. Connelly.”
She gets a smack to the ass for that one.
Once we’re on flatter ground, she eyes me up and down over the top of her water bottle, chest heaving from exertion. “How are you in such good shape?”
“Excuse me?”
“How are you in such good—” She groans when she sees the smirk I’m sporting. “You heard me, you jerk.” Water dribbles down her chin when she can’t contain her wide grin behind her bottle.
I do work hard to stay in shape, but more than that, working out does wonders for my mental health. “I hit the gym most days, and Ezra and I play basketball when we can.” I shrug. “What about you?”
“What about me?” She tilts her head to the side and leans back against a boulder.
“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”
Playing her little game, I stalk up to her and drag a hand from the top of her shoulder to her wrist. Dipping low so my mouth is at her ear, I cup her ass and squeeze. “How do you keep this ass so fucking tight?” I croon.
Without missing a beat, she sings right back. “By fucking hot guys like you.”
I’m hit with a burst of pride, but it’s immediately followed by an urge to possess her. “There’s only one hot guy, Joey,” I growl. “And that’s me. Got it?”
The spark that arcs between us any time we’re close is so damn electric it can’t be ignored. There’s no way she doesn’t feel it, too, especially with the way she presses her breasts against me.
The tingling sensation in my stomach that appears in her proximity intensifies when she pulls back and licks her lips.
Bold and seductive, she brushes her fingers down my arm. “Yes, sir.”
Heart lodging in my throat, I grasp her hand and hold it close; I would permanently glue it to my chest if I could.
“You drive me fucking crazy, Josefine,” I say into the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat.
I drag my lips along her jaw and ghost them over her lips, teasing her for a moment before sinking into them.
She tugs on my bottom lip with her teeth and releases, then slips her tongue inside my mouth. The heat behind her kiss singes through my veins. I let my water bottle fall to the ground with a clang and grasp her waist. Her shirt is damp with sweat and her kisses are salty. With her arms draped around my neck, she devours me, shattering me and putting me back together at the same time. Yet I still demand more.
There’s a dizzying current racing between us, but after a moment, Joey breaks the spell and pulls away. I stumble forward, eager to share the same breath with her again.
“You should stay hydrated.” With a wink, she bends to pick up my water bottle.
I take it from her and adjust myself with my free hand. Knowing if we don’t move on to other topics I won’t be able to keep my hands off her, I take a long pull of my water, then a couple of deep breaths. “What was your dad like?” I try again.
She draws her sunglasses from her backpack and puts them on like she’s using them for more than just protection from the sun.
I anticipate a generic description. Something along the lines of “He was kind… had a good job and supported our family…” The stock description for the middle-class father figure.
But with a vulnerability so out of character for the fierce woman I’ve spent the last couple of days with, she says, “He was the best,” choking over the words.
I toss her a microfiber towel from my backpack, and though I thought she could use it to wipe her welling tears, she stubbornly pats at the sweat on her neck and brow before giving in and dabbing at the corners of her eyes.
“He loved surprising me. One day, on the way to school, the radio DJs announced that a local band I loved was doing a meet and greet at a record store nearby that afternoon. I nearly broke my seat belt as I wiggled so spastically in my seat. I wanted to meet them so badly, but I didn’t dare ask to skip school, and Dad had a big showing scheduled for that day. But just before the lunch bell rang, I was called to the school office.” She tosses my towel back and takes a long swig of water, eyes closed.
I steal those few seconds to study her. The flush in her cheeks, the way her neck elongates when she drinks, the sweat glistening on her chest and disappearing behind her shirt.
She swallows and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “I thought for sure I was in trouble, although I’d never done anything to warrant a visit with the principal. Kind of like how, as an adult, I’d never even consider transporting heroin—hell, I’ve never even seen it—yet when I’m at the airport and spot a police K-9, I instinctively pat my pockets just in case .” She laughs .
“I do that too,” I snicker. “As if today is the day I forgot I’m smuggling drugs up my ass.”
“Right?” She slaps a hand on her knee.
For a heartbeat, I can’t do anything but stare at her toned thigh. So badly, I want to run a hand up her leg, tease the frayed hem of her… I clear my throat to shake away the fog of lust I can’t seem to escape. “So, the principal’s office?”
“Right. I get there, and my dad is standing by the front desk. My first thought was that something happened to my mom or my aunt, and I started to panic, but then I really looked at his face, and his enormous grin calmed me. He grabbed my backpack, thanked the people in the office, and led me out the door. He ignored my incessant questions, and it was only when we were in the car that he told me we were headed to the meet and greet. I’ve never screamed so loud in my life.”
The pure joy on Joey’s face makes my chest feel tight. Damn, seeing this side of her only makes me want to keep her more.
“What about your mom?” I dare to ask.
All at once, her expression falls. She swallows thickly, then returns her water bottle to her bag, slings the strap over her shoulder, and heads down the trail. “What about her?”
Weighing my words, I hustle to catch up. The last thing I want to do is push her away, so I ask the simplest question I can come up with. “Is she still in California?”
“Yup.” She pops the P and leaves it at that.
For a long moment, the only sounds are our footsteps on the rocky trail and the mountain goats in the distance.
I’m having an internal debate about how to get our day back on track when Joey lets out a long breath.
“Okay, fine.” She says it like she’s admitting defeat. “I was ten when my dad died. I think I told you that.”
I nod, even though I’m behind her .
“For a whole year my mom handled things okay. I only saw her cry twice—the day he died and at the funeral.”
She goes quiet again, but I let her work through her thoughts.
“That’s so weird, right?” she finally says, her attention focused on the trail ahead of her. “I cried every freaking day for months. Anyway,” she continues, tightening the elastic in her hair, “a year later, on the anniversary of his death, some switch inside her flipped. A light went off. Hell, all the lights went out that day.”
Joey’s somber mood, her flat tone of voice, and her expression are in stark contrast to the lightness and joy that radiated from her when she spoke about her father only moments ago. Where a smile once flourished, it now has withered.
I squirm with the earnest need to reach out and touch her.
“For a whole year, she fooled me and everyone we knew—probably even herself—into thinking she was okay. She got me to school on time and went to work like she always had. She didn’t hang out with friends like she had in the past, but she started going to the gym a lot. On the anniversary of his death, though…” She wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist and sniffs. “She broke. All of a sudden, she’d spend all day in bed. She’d forget to pick me up from school. Wouldn’t eat anything but toast and a banana for days at a time.
“My Aunt Rachel—Millie’s mom,” she clarifies, “took a couple of weeks off work to take care of us. When she had to return to her own family, she made arrangements with the mom of one of my friends so I’d get to school and back, and she set up a meal train. When the meal train ended a month later and my mom still wasn’t better, Aunt Rachel convinced her to check into a psychiatric hospital.”
A shudder shakes me to my core as memories bounce in my mind and I gasp.
“Wild, right? ”
“It’s not that.” I drop my head and run a hand up and down the back of my neck. “My mom was also in a psychiatric hospital when I was ten.”
Joey’s sneakers kick up dirt when she halts in front of me. Because my focus is still downcast, I nearly collide with her.
She turns and blinks at me, her mouth agape. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. After Chloe died, my mom was sad all the time. Anyone would be in that situation, but she couldn’t get out of her sadness. It’s like it was pinning her down, suffocating her. She couldn’t eat or get out of bed, let alone care for two young children. After she’d gone a week without uttering a word, my dad took her to the emergency room. The ER doctor referred her to psych, and she was admitted to an inpatient program.”
Eyes wide and soft, Joey steps into me and wraps her arms around my waist. I drop my cheek to the top of her head and squeeze her back like I never want to let her go.
“We have a lot more in common than I thought,” she says into my chest.
There’s an ache in my throat for the both of us. Does she feel it too ?
A bleating mountain goat interrupts the silence, spurring Joey to extricate herself from my hold. “When do you work today?”
A hollowness forms in my chest at the loss of contact. Desperate to fill that void, even just a little, and prolong the tender moment, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her jaw. “I need to edit photos from yesterday before my session tonight. Tonight’s group is a big one. A family reunion. Those are always interesting.”
“Why’s that?” she asks as we continue hobbling over rocks through the gorge.
“Nine out of ten times, the mother and daughter or mother- in-law and daughter-in-law are locked in some kind of showdown because neither wants to give up control. Then there’s the sibling who hates wearing white. The kids are usually hungry because their parents wouldn’t let them have a snack once they were dressed for photos. Or they come with bribery chocolate, which is a melted nightmare waiting to happen.”
“I take it you don’t like working with families.”
“You’d be correct. I’d much rather work with nature. It doesn’t insult or argue.”
For the first time since I asked about her mom, she laughs. It’s a small one, but I’ll take it.
“Not that I don’t like kids.” Despite my comments, I’m not a total dick.
“No, I get it. Millie’s brother Asher has a daughter, and dang if that kid isn’t a handful.”
Does that mean she doesn’t want kids? Not that it’s my business. I don’t even know if I want kids. I’ve always just thought of it as another step in life. College, a good job, marriage, kids. My parents and Hayden’s were always making comments about grandchildren. Like procreating was expected. I didn’t even question it. But now…
Over the past year, I’ve questioned so much. My job. My passion. Where I want to live. Who I want to marry.
“I can hear you thinking.” Joey turns, one brow raised. “Care to share with the class?”
I blow out a long breath, considering how to put into words the inner workings of my brain. If only I could just blurt I want more than just sex. Stay on this island with me. You can write and I can take pictures and we can forget about everything else.
If I did, she would be out of here in a heartbeat.
Thankfully, I’m saved by the beauty of Crete. Steps ahead is a majestic view. Emerald water glistens, hugged between a collage of silver and copper rocks .
“Holy—” She abandons her words at the spectacle before us. “Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as this?”
Soaking in the wonder in her smile and the reverence in her eyes as she takes in the view, I yearn to scream Yes, actually, I have .
“Turn around,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket.
Joey leans against a rock, and I snap a few pictures. She isn’t even looking at the camera for most of them because she can’t take her eyes off the view.
“Come.” I lace my fingers with hers, and we make our way down the rocks. A platform big enough for two is the only thing separating us from the sparkling sea.
She makes haste in stripping down to her bikini. I remove my shirt, hat, and shoes just as quickly. With a snorkel mask I brought along for the occasion looped around her arm, she lowers herself onto the rocks below us. It wasn’t easy getting here, but it’s absolutely worth it.
“ Shitmotherfucker !”
“What?” I shout, hurtling myself into the water after her.
Oh, I get it now. Air is sucked from my lungs when the icy water hits my waist. Quickly surveying the rocks below, I pull her under the water with me. When we break the surface, gasping for air, Joey climbs up my body like a koala, desperately trying to escape the chilly water.
“You asshole,” she purrs, locking her arms around my neck and her ankles at the base of my spine. She dips in, and for several heartbeats, with the taste of the salty sea on our lips, we get lost in one another. Eventually, we find the strength to pull away and put on our snorkels.
“Do you need a tutorial?” she asks, sliding the strap over her head.
“Huh?”
“Or have you been snorkeling since last year?” She slides the mask over her face, unhooking the hair that gets stuck over her ears.
She remembered.
“I went with a few coworkers last week.” I pull my mask down. Once it’s in place, I lean in to kiss her, but the goggles clang together and prevent our lips from touching. “But thank you.”
A wave of gratitude washes over me when I lower my face below the water. This is the kind of experience most people only ever dream of. For a while, we weave between one another and circle schools of black and silvery-blue fish. When Joey swats at my shoulder, I turn to where she’s pointing below us, and sure enough, tucked between two rocks is a fucking octopus. Its dusty-colored tentacles retreat and blend in with the rocks so quickly I question if I truly saw the mystical creature in the first place.
We pop up to the surface and rest the masks on our foreheads.
“Did you see that?” she shouts, treading water a couple of feet away. She’s like a five-year-old who’s just jumped off a swing and wants to make sure her parent was witness to her antics.
“Sure did.” I can’t help but grin right back.
“That was so fucking cool.” She drops back and spreads her arms wide, her perfect breasts bobbing above the surface.
God, is she gorgeous. All I want to do is watch her every move when she’s this carefree. “I’m having the best time.”
“Me too,” she says up to the brilliant blue sky.
She wraps her legs around my waist again, her breasts pressed against my bare chest.
With an arm around her back, I balance on a rock anchored to the sea floor.
“What’s your sister like?”
“Claire’s creative like you, though watercolor is her preferred medium. And when she’s not slammed at the hospital or painting, she’s at spin class.”
She tilts her head. “I like spinning too.”
“I think you’d get along.” I’d introduce them, but since she’s adamant about not continuing what we have once she leaves the island, I don’t know that I could handle seeing her around if they hit it off.
We stay like that, teasing and splashing and flirting. Flirting turns to kissing, which turns to petting, until we’re interrupted by a throaty cough that is definitely not coming from one of the mountain goats. We pull apart and spot a man holding tight to a child near the edge.
“Looks like that’s our cue.” I grasp Joey’s hips and pull her away just a little.
She unwraps her legs from my waist willingly, although not without a little pout. Then we make our way to flatter land.
“Ready to head back?”
With a deep inhale, Joey eyes the steep climb. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Nearly an hour later, at the top of the stone stairs, we pull out our phones and take a few selfies, then survey the glorious horizon one last time in a comfortable silence. My phone finally has service, so I call for a car. By the time we make it back to the monastery, we’re too beat to go inside. Feet dragging and shoulders slumped, we head to the parking lot, where the driver is waiting for us.