Chapter 14
Sadie
Learn how to take a compliment – from Sadie’s list of things she’s never done
“Why are you the cutest person who’s ever lived?” Allie asks when I step into Devon’s backyard, wearing my peach-colored '90s cut bikini and a wide-brimmed Panama hat.
“Stop it, I am not.” I wave away the comment, sitting down next to her, Bea, and Devon, who are all sitting around the corner of the pool, letting their legs sink into the cool water.
“You are quite adorable,” Devon adds.
“I am not—” I begin to protest again, but then I remember what I’m supposed to be focusing on today. If people want to say nice things about me, why shouldn’t I let them? I’m lucky to have friends who say such lovely things. Even though my hair is too short for it, I make a motion like I’m flipping it over my shoulder. “Okay, I am adorable.”
Bea dips her oversized sunglasses down her nose. “You’re even cuter when you accept compliments,” she adds.
Did she just compliment my ability to take a compliment? Surely, I’m allowed to deny that. Right?
Before I can object, Cam, Luke, Rhett, and all three dogs emerge from the brand-new house. It’s a modern design dream, built on a stunning desert property between Palm Springs and Joshua Tree that Devon and Rhett built together. They just finished construction, and we’re all staying with them for the weekend to celebrate.
When the guys approach us, Betty follows close behind, plopping onto the shaded concrete near Allie, while Dandy and Spaghetti chase each other around the yard.
Cam—who still hasn’t stopped bringing me coffee during my morning meetings every day—sets down a tray filled with cookies and drinks on a low table.
“You ladies need anything other than this before we disappear to the workshop for a while?” Rhett asks, pointing toward the tray.
“Looks like we’ll be pretty well covered for a while,” Devon answers.
“Later, sunshine,” Cam says, tucking his hands into his pockets as he follows Luke and Rhett.
“I think I really like him,” I sigh, once they’ve disappeared around the house.
Bea chuckles. “That’s probably for the best, since you two are together.”
Something true. Say something true. “Just feels extra poignant today, I guess.”
“I was skeptical at first,” Devon comments, sipping one of the rum and peach cocktails from the tray.
“Oh, you were ?” Allie presses both hands to her collarbones in mock shock.
Devon arches a brow. “Obviously. He’s the Race Naked guy.”
“He’s more than that,” I jump to defend him.
Devon dips her chin in a single nod. “Clearly, I see that now.”
“Even if he was just the Race Naked guy,” Bea says, sipping an orange-hued drink from the tray. “I think that’s good for you. You needed someone wild.”
Someone wild? Is that what I need? I’ve wanted to share with my friends what’s happening with Cam, but we’re in so deep already. How would they respond if they found out I’ve been lying to them about him for months?
“What makes you say that?” I ask, relieved to at least ask for advice.
Bea slides her glasses up to balance on her head, looking me in the eye when she answers. “You’ve had such an incredible amount of change in your life lately, and I know that doesn’t settle easily in your spirit. You like when things are steady. I think a wild man—specifically that gorgeous one with the red hair and all the tattoos—helps you realize you can still be okay when things aren’t steady. He’s comfortable with change and chaos, so he can help you through.”
This is why I have to talk to my friends. “I don’t think I ever would have put that together myself, but you might be on to something,” I say. His wildness is good for me, but it’s also the thing that’s keeping me from actually falling for him. How do I bring that up?
Turns out I don’t have to, because Devon does. “I am still not convinced that dating a motorcycle racer is the best thing for you.”
I jump to answer before Allie can interject, like I know she wants to. “That part is hard for me still,” I say, wading through my thoughts until I find the right words. “It’s really, really scary to think how easily I could lose him.”
Devon’s tone softens. “Have you talked to him about any of that yet?”
“A bit,” I nod. “It’s hard because I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it all.”
“It’s still new,” Bea says. “You don’t have to have it all figured out yet.”
She’s someone who seems much more comfortable with change and chaos than I am, but I try to commit her words to memory. I don’t have to have it all figured out yet.
Allie lifts a cookie in the air, turning it one way and then the other. “I’m not complaining, but can I ask why we’re eating gingerbread in April?”
“They’re Cam’s favorite,” I say, scooping a little gingerbread dude off the tray for myself. “Also, I think I might get a tattoo of one soon.”
That admission sparks a conversation about the tattoo appointment Cam booked for us next month. It’s been a couple of weeks since we had our late-night tattoo conversation and make-out. Neither of us has said a word about the kissing, but we did agree the next day to book a tattoo appointment. I don’t confess that he’s also considering a gingerbread tattoo because I know exactly what the advice about getting a tattoo with my boyfriend of two months would be. It’s one secret I don’t mind keeping.
Having a moment of openness with them eases some of the anxiety I’ve felt these past couple of months, and it makes me want to share something else with them. I glance around the yard. Spaghetti and Dandy are on their way back to us now, but the guys haven’t returned.
“Do you want to know a secret?” I ask.
Wrangling Spaghetti to lie down next to Betty in the shade, Allie says, “More than anything ,” like she’s been waiting all day for something juicy.
“And you cannot tell anyone, especially not your boyfriend,” I insist.
“Why am I the only one getting warned?” she asks, looking between Bea and Devon.
“Because Bea’s a vault, and even if Devon told Rhett, he wouldn’t care,” I answer.
“So, this is a secret Luke can’t know?” Allie nods, nibbling the foot off another cookie. “Got it.”
“I think Cam has a tattoo of me,” I whisper.
Bea’s mouth drops open in shock—her eyes glittering with excitement.
Allie gasps a scandalized “What?”
When I look to Devon, her eyes are narrowed, but she says nothing, holding her judgment for later.
“He already got a tattoo for you?” Bea whispers, sounding more intrigued than anything.
“No, no. I think he’s had it for years, before he ever met me or knew who I was.” Hearing the words out loud, I realize just how unrealistic this sounds.
“What the fuck?” Allie whispers, petting Spaghetti’s curly brown head.
“I’m not even sure it’s me, but she’s dressed like me, and she has dimples,” I say. “I don’t think he even realizes it’s me.”
No one says anything, but I get a trio of matching oh-sweetheart-that’s-not-what-you-think-it-is faces.
“I’m not explaining this well,” I say, pulling on the wide brim of my hat.
“You’re really not,” Bea says, in the most soothing voice imaginable. “But we’re along for the ride. Try again.”
I snort a laugh at her gentle tone. “The tattoo is a pin-up girl in a pink Race Naked t-shirt.”
“I’ve never seen that one,” Allie comments.
My cheeks flush at the memory of the time I saw it. My first thought is to not let my friends know what happened between us, but I can’t talk to them about that anyway. We’ve already told them we’re together, so now I can’t tell them about the first time he kissed me only two weeks ago. I suppose I could tell it as if it happened sooner , but how do I keep the details straight? What if I mess it up? The lines between truth and lie tangle further. What point was I trying to make?
“Where is it?” Allie asks, reminding me where we left off.
“It’s on the side of his thigh, but way up here.” I lean back, tapping the area on my body to show them.
“And you feel like the tattoo can represent you now that you’re together?” Bea graciously suggests.
“No, I think he used a photo of me as reference.” Scrolling my phone for the photo in question, I explain what he told me about the tattoo. “Here,” I say, holding it out for them to inspect when I find it.
“I remember that night. I took that photo,” Devon says. We exchange a glance, silently agreeing not to mention it also happened to be the night I met Jared.
“That’s positively precious,” Bea says. “You two were connected already such a long time ago. You’re meant to be.” Meant to be. Cameron Hacker and I meant for each other. The thought rattles something in my heart that I’m trying desperately not to let loose.
“I think we’re going to have to see this tattoo to be sure,” Allie says, “But if it’s true, that’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“It honestly might be,” Devon agrees, a small curve to her lips.
As we lounge by the pool, I’m struck by how different my life is now compared to when I came to visit a little over a year ago. Back then, Allie, Devon, and I had a pool day, too, and it was the happiest I’d felt in months. I was in a rough place—knew I needed big changes, but was too scared to make them. So, I spent the whole weekend imagining I had already made those changes.
When I pictured a happier version of myself, I wasn’t with Jared anymore. I lived close to good friends, and I made time for things that made me feel fulfilled. And now that I have all of those things, I’m happy.
What I hadn’t imagined was a different man. But there’s one here now. He’s larger than life, treats me better than I deserve, and it’s getting harder and harder to picture life without him.
When the guys come back, Allie manages to keep her mouth shut about the pinup tattoo, but I’ll be shocked if it hasn’t made its way to Cam by morning.
He steps around sleeping dogs to reach our spot by the edge of the pool. “You are absolutely gorgeous today. Sunshine looks good on you, sunshine.”
I have to physically bite my tongue to keep from shooting him down.
Realizing he won’t get a response, he asks, “Still good? Anyone need new drinks? Snacks?” When we all answer no, a devious look takes over his face, and he backflips into the water, splashing Allie and me.
“He’s such a boy ,” Allie laughs, wiping water from her face.
When he comes to the surface, his oversized smile is out in full force as he swims straight for me.
“You got me all wet,” Allie complains, splashing water at him.
He folds his arms on the pool’s edge, his elbow brushing against the scarred side of my leg. In the direct sunlight, the scars are more visible than usual, but fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, I have that effect on women,” he says, leaning over to kiss my knee. “This one, anyway.”
He does have that effect on me, and it’s a problem because it’s getting harder to know what’s for show and what’s real with him.
“Ew,” Allie says. “You guys are cute.”
Cam pushes off the wall and starts tugging lightly on my calves. “You gonna come play with me? Or do I have to play with myself all day?”
“Ew,” Allie repeats.
But I snort a laugh. “Sometimes I wonder if you hear the things that come out of your mouth.”
“Oh, I hear them,” he says, flashing me a giant smile.
“I’ll come swim with you in a little bit,” I say.
He comes toward me again, and I think he’s about to pull me into the water, but he braces his hands on either side of my legs and launches himself up until his elbows are locked, our faces level. “Don’t take too long,” he says, leaning in to give me a kiss. It’s only the second time he’s kissed me, and it’s sweet and simple, but my blood heats just the same.
It’s been two weeks since the first time he kissed me— the only time he’s kissed me . Since then, it’s like he’s turned up the charm—something I didn’t even know was possible. I’ve always figured he probably flirts with every woman— although I struggle to think of examples of him making teasing remarks or rubbing his hand across the lower back of anyone else. But it’s getting harder to believe this is all fake for him.
As he swims away, I turn to Allie with a bewildered laugh. “ All of that works for me.”
“Perfect for each other,” she shrugs. “Totally called it.”
After a day spent in the pool and sunshine, everyone’s quick to split off to their rooms for bed. Even though my body carries the bone-tired feeling a day like this demands, the second Cam and I are both in bed, my brain refuses to shut down.
I don’t think he’s asleep yet, but he’s lying flat on his back with his arms propped behind his head. Who sleeps like that? Is he actually comfortable? Is he sleeping? Rolling onto my side, I adjust my pillow. Maybe that’ll help.
“Trouble sleeping?” Cam asks, without opening his eyes.
Even though he didn’t whisper, I do. “I’m sorry. Am I keeping you awake?”
“You’re great, don’t worry,” he answers—but doesn’t answer my question.
So, I am keeping him awake? Doing my best to lie still, my eyes catch on a tattoo I haven’t asked about yet. Maybe it’s because this is what we did the one other time we shared a bed, but I can’t help myself from asking, “Is that a Hot Wheels car?”
He’s still for a moment, then a smirk curves his lips, and his blue-green eyes open as he turns onto his side so he’s facing me. “It is,” he says, holding his arm out for me to analyze the tattoo.
On the upper half of his forearm, just below his elbow, there’s a little black and yellow sports car with flames coming out the back.
“You gonna tell me about it?” I ask, tracing the ink with my fingertip.
“Sure. I saw something similar on a flash sheet and decided to get it as a '69 Camaro because I had this toy as a kid.” His chuckle is low. “And also, I like that there’s a sixty-nine-joke hidden in there.” It’s a less meaningful answer than any of the others he’s given me, but it still suits him. “Honestly, sixty-nine’s not even my favorite thing, but I love a dirty joke.”
“Not your favorite?” The words slip out before I’ve thought about them. Why would I ask him that?
The smirk that hasn’t left his lips lifts a little higher. “I prefer being able to focus all my attention on my partner when I’m going down, let her revel in it without having to worry about me. But sometimes the moment calls for something different. You know?”
I do not know, but can I tell him that? Will he judge me? His sincere eyes hold mine, and I can’t imagine he would. Keeping a secret is on my list, but I don’t want it to be this one. “I actually haven’t ever done that.” My heart races with the admission.
“Never came up, huh?” His response is more confusion than anything, but there’s no hint of judgment. “Not even just to see what it’s like to go down on someone at the same time? Have a little race—see who can get the other one off first?”
The way he talks about sex is so casual. Have a little race? Like sex is a light, playful experience. It was never like that for me. I was always self-conscious, and eventually, I only slept with my ex because it seemed like something I should do. I rarely got anything out of it. Shaking my head, I say, “No, never.”
His brow furrows.
Before he can ask more questions, I decide to unload the whole secret—something I’ve always been too ashamed to admit to my friends. “Jared never went down on me at all.”
Cam’s jaw clenches, and I swear he looks angry . “That fucking idiot,” he breathes.
“He’s the only person I’ve ever been with. So—” I take a steadying breath. “I’ve never experienced that, ever .”
Cam’s silent for long enough that I wonder if something’s wrong.
Maybe he is judging me after all?
“I know, it’s embarrassing,” I start to fill the silence, staring at my hands as I wring them together. “I probably shouldn’t have told you—”
His fingertips dip under my chin, gently lifting my face toward his. “First, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. Him, on the other hand—I didn’t think it was possible to lose even more respect for that asshole, but…” he lets his words trail off, shaking his head.
“Secondly,” he says, releasing my chin as he stands up from the bed and walks around to my side. His broad hands reach under the blanket and flip me around until I’m sitting with my legs dangling off the side of the bed. He drops to his knees, placing himself between my legs. If he wasn’t staring intently into my eyes, he’d be looking right at the crotch of my tiny pajama shorts. His hands grip my knees. “Will you please let me do this for you?”
“ What? Cam, you can’t—”
He lifts a finger to my lips and shushes me. “Let me finish.”
Too stunned to speak, I nod my agreement.
“Please, Sadie.” He blows out a breath, shaking his head from side to side before fixing me with an intense, for-the-love-of-everything stare. “This is an experience you need. You deserve. And I—” he takes a deep breath. “I want to give this to you. I want to do this for you. I want to show you why this is something you should never allow yourself to go without again. Let me show you why you should never tolerate a man who doesn’t bury his face between your legs and worship.”
Worship? He wants to worship me? How did we get here? Do I want him to—who am I kidding? Of course I want him to. But it’s not a good idea. We can’t—
“Talk to me,” he interrupts my thoughts, holding my gaze. His hands grip my spread legs as he kneels before me, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs.
Is he offering to do this right now?
I release a shaky breath. “On the ground like that, it looks like you're begging.”
His eyes narrow, and his head tilts. “Not sure how I could be clearer,” he says, letting go of my legs and folding his arms, elbows propped on the bed. “I am begging you.”
“Cam, you don’t—you can’t—” I start to protest, because denying him feels like the right thing to do—even though I want exactly what he’s offering.
His pleading eyes search mine. “It doesn’t matter who I am to you—friend, boyfriend, pretend boyfriend, roommate. It doesn’t matter. I’m begging you as one human being to another. Please, let me do this for you.”
My heart races. Where, normally, my mind would be cluttered with a thousand thoughts, all I can think now is I want it to be him .
He sits there, silent and yearning, watching me. Earnest. Kind. And he looks at me in a way no one else has. If I allowed myself to acknowledge any of the thoughts I’ve had about him today, I’d already admit it: I want him. I want him.
Why can’t I say yes? Why can’t we do this?
“Tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks after a long silence.
I should just say yes. But he would have to do it. He would see me. Taste me. Know me in a way no one else has. That’s the point, right? But what if he doesn’t—what if I don’t—what would it do to us—
“Sadie.” His hands drop to the outsides of my knees as he pushes to his feet.
Did I take too long to decide? Does he not want me anymore? Should I have—
“I don’t want to stress you out.” He cups my face, pulling me forward to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “You don’t have to say yes now, but it’s always on the table.”