8. Cameron
I messed that up. Fuck, I messed that up. I lost my absolute mind when I saw Jimmy blocking her in. Fuck. I shouldn’t have done any of that.
“Shit.” I stormed into the bathroom, where I’d been headed. Minding my own damn business. Saying hello to folks I knew, which was almost everyone, on the way. But as soon as I’d hit the hall and seen Jimmy crowding in on a woman? And then realized that woman was Ava?
Good thing Isaiah wasn’t there yet. He’d have broken more laws than I would have, and he would have done it armed.
“Shit.” I screwed that up. Seriously screwed that up. Ava was the last person I’d want to make cry, even if I’d probably done it a lot over the years.
But I’d taken one look at her face, the fear swirling there. The determination. And I’d lost it.
I still tasted her on my lips in a way I knew I’d never forget.
“I’ll talk to her,” I told my reflection.
So I screwed that up. So I admitted I remembered at least something, at the worst possible time and in the worst possible place. This was Ava. She’d listen. I was her ride back to Denver. And, hell, she was staying at my place. I had weeks to make this right. To explain about how I’d panicked that first day, then followed Grams’s advice that wasn’t altogether wrong. To apologize profusely, on my knees if I had to.
Even still, it’d take work. Work I was willing to put in because my reasons wouldn’t explain or excuse everything. “She’s going to hate me.”
My reflection stared back. Blank. Yeah. She was going to hate me. But it was time.
Time to tell Ava Decker everything I felt for her.
By the time I got back to my table, Lydia was gone.
“Ava and Lydia leave?” I asked Gavin.
“I haven’t seen Ava. Lydia got a text and said she had to jet. I told her you’d cover their tab.”
I’d do it. Of course, I would. “Ava didn’t get Lydia before she left?”
“No.” My brother took a drink from his beer. “Why?”
I scanned the bar. Jimmy was gone, as I knew he would be. He came from trash, but because he worked at the bank, he thought he was better than everyone and he liked to Lord that shit everywhere in his wake. He thought he was top dog, but he was still scum.
“No reason. I’m tired. Wanna take off?”
We’d had two drinks, but now I had a mission.
One, make sure Jimmy wasn’t anywhere near Ava’s house, and two, make sure she got home safe.
Isaiah would understand if he showed up and I wasn’t here.
“What’s going on?” Gavin asked. He’d drained his beer and was climbing off his stool.
Not like he cared to be out here anyway, I’d practically had to beg him to come out for a drink. But hell, the man worked hard and was a single dad, he deserved a night out too.
“Nothing. I’m beat.”
The problem with having brothers, and they didn’t even have to be my twin, was that we knew shit. He could see it all over my face, probably the tense stance.
“Keep your secrets. Let’s go.”
I dropped Gavin off at the small home he and Josie shared in town, within walking distance to the bar, but I’d picked him up and driven here. I drove around town, found Jimmy’s truck parked out behind the Whiskey Mixer, another bar past the town’s square, and since there was no way Ava would go there, I went back home.
After I’d crawled into my bed in my parents’ house, the house quiet and dark because they were early risers and Bryce was out with some friends, I texted Ava.
Me
You okay? Get back to your parents’ house safe?
I waited a minute. Then five. It felt like a lifetime.
I texted again.
Ava. Please. I’m so sorry for all of it tonight. But at least let me know you’re okay? That you got home safe?
Ten minutes later, and still no response from her, so I texted Isaiah.
You know if your sister got back to your parents’ place tonight?
That response came almost immediately.
Isaiah
Yeah. I caught her as I pulled in. Crying. WTF happened?
Since there was no way I was telling him shit about me accosting his sister in a fucking bar where anyone could have seen right after Jimmy had his grubby paws all over her, I sent him a bunch of bullshit.
Don’t know. Looked upset. Just checking in.
Then I texted Ava.
Know you’re upset. Probably confused. We’ll talk, Ava. Tomorrow. You promised.
Eventually I fell asleep, and in the morning, I woke up to a string of texts from my teammates, planning on getting together to do some workouts and go hiking.
One text from Grams telling me to see her before I left town.
Nothing from Ava.
So I went to see Grams.
“You messed up again.”
“Yeah, Grams. I messed up.”
Grams didn’t beat around the bush, and I hadn’t bothered trying to hide the mood I was in when I walked through her doorway, so the fact I messed up was pretty obvious.
Ruthie Clapton wasn’t my grams. She was Ava and Isaiah’s, and she wasn’t their grandma but their great-grandma. I’d called her grams my entire life. Since Isaiah and I grew up together, my mom called him the sixth Kelley son, and I grew up with Grams in my life, too.
She also knew things she had no business knowing. Like somehow, she knew something happened between Ava and me all those years ago. How she picked up on it was anyone’s guess, and at the time I told her I was too young to settle down, too young to think about being with one girl.
Way back then, she understood.
Her understanding waned last summer, when, for some reason, she started insisting I make things right with Ava.
“We only get one chance to live and love in this world, really love, Cam-honey, and you better start thinking about the kind of love you really want before it slips through your fingers.”
A week later, Ava moved in with Kip.
Grams called me, called me an idiot, and hung up.
Back then, I’d figured she was wrong. If Ava was happy with Kip, then whatever. It was meant to be.
“Wanna give me all the dirty details? My life could use some fresh excitement in it.”
I choked and cleared my throat. Grams was a nutcase. The best kind.
“I kissed her.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like messing up.”
“She cried and ran away from me. And now she won’t answer my texts.”
I’d texted her a half-dozen times this morning. A bunch of question marks, since she hadn’t replied to my texts last night. And then more, asking her when she wanted to leave to head back to Denver. She could only ghost me for so long. I knew where she lived, and that house was my next stop.
“Maybe you’re a bad kisser.”
“No, Grams.” I laughed. “I’m not a bad kisser.”
If only I could have seen her when she was in her twenties or thirties. No way she didn’t run this town with her sass and charm.
Her thin lips kicked up at the corners, and she rocked in her navy-blue recliner. “Yeah. Boy like you, figured you wouldn’t be.”
“Jesus, Grams.”
“So what are you going to do to fix it?”
“Talk to her?”
“That’s your plan? Doesn’t sound like much of one to me.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
Grams gave me a look that made me want to hang my head in shame, and she didn’t have to speak to let me know she was disappointed in me.
“I thought you’d be smarter than this, Cameron Kelley. All these years, I told you to back off because you had dreams to chase and goals to reach and a life to live, and so did she. But I warned you, you didn’t act when you should have and that love would slip through your fingers, and now the best plan you can think of is to talk to her?”
She shook her head. The retirement home had a hairstylist on staff. Grams saw her like clockwork, and since this morning was Sunday, she’d been up early, getting her hair set and curled and all the things she would have done had she been able to make it to church like she used to.
I’d shown up looking like I’d rolled out of bed, my hair undone, and my scruff unshaven.
I leaned back in the small loveseat built more for a small child than a six-foot-three man. “What do you suggest?”
“Kiss her again.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I think that’s what caused the problem.”
“Well, if she likes your second kiss, then the problem’s solved.”
“I’m serious, Grams.” This was me risking my friendship with Isaiah and risking hurting Ava. Again. It was asking her to take a chance on a guy who not only hurt her, probably more than anyone else, but to get over the fact I not only lied but held on to that lie for years. Grams didn’t know all of that, and I’d never told her specifics, but she knew enough.
She blew out a breath and then hid a yawn behind a hand that was frail, liver-spotted, and aging far too much for my liking. With her eyes closed, she rested her head back against her chair and rocked it, wearing her fluffy, ultra-fuzzy hot pink slippers covered in rhinestones.
“That girl has loved you since she knew what love was, Cam-honey. You hurt her, and you kept up at that hurt, and I know when you wanted to fix things, I told you to wait, but you had too much to go do and she had to figure out who she was. Give her some time. She’s still working on it, especially now that that boy is out of the picture.”
I bit back a grin. Grams did not like Kip.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
As soon as I moved back to Denver, I wanted to talk to her. I’d fought this for years, and now she was in my home. Staying with me. We had weeks to figure this out, fix what we’d—I’d—broken.
“You’ll see.” She reached over, found my hand on the armrest of the loveseat, and patted my hand. “You’ll see.”
I didn’t see shit.
“All right, Grams.” She was yawning again, and I cringed before she could see. She was getting tired too fast these days. It was barely nine in the morning, and I knew she’d be napping before long. “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Make sure you move quick, though.” Grams’s words were slurred and slow, her eyes closed. “Wanna see my favorite granddaughter happy, truly happy, while I still have my sight.”
Since the thought of anything happening to Grams made my gut clench, I stayed silent. “I’ll call you.” I kissed her cheek.
“Love you, Cam-honey.”
“Love you too, Grams.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever raised my voice to Bram or Connie Decker, but there I was, in their living room, and both of them had eyes as wide as Pluto.
“She left last night. Came back and was all out of sorts and said Lydia was taking her to Denver. You don’t know what happened?”
I knew exactly what happened, and one of those was that Ava was clearly not planning on holding up her end of the promise she made last night.
“No, sir.” Because like hell I was going to tell the man I kissed his daughter, admitted I’d lied to her for years, and then she took off crying.
Jesus. Had I hurt her? Had Jimmy before I’d gotten a hold of him?
Taking off on a whim wasn’t like Ava. It had Lydia stamped all over it for sure, but not Ava.
“She wasn’t even that upset when she told us about Kip’s proposal,” Connie said. She curled her hand over her husband’s shoulder and rested her head against it. Worry was written all over her. “Something must have happened. We were in bed, and Bram heard the door slam closed. Isaiah came in, stomping after her. Caused all sorts of a ruckus, we thought someone was hurt or something. Next thing we know, Lydia’s showing up, which made no sense since they went to Tom’s together, and then they were leaving.”
It’d been late. Hell, by the time they got on the road, it would have been almost eleven. And Lydia had been drinking. Maybe not more than the one I saw, but still…
“I’ll figure this out,” I promised both of them, because I sure as hell would. I wouldn’t stop hunting for Ava until I had my hands on her, handcuffed to my kitchen table chairs, and forced her to listen to me for once.
She was gone. G-O-N-E. I knew it as soon as I stepped in my house. There was absolute silence, and even though the scent of her remained, Ava had cleared out, leaving me nothing more than the fucking boatload of groceries we’d just bought yesterday… and a note.
A goddamn fucking note.
I didn’t answer your texts because I need some time to think. Need to figure out who I am, what I want. What I’m willing to settle for.
I won’t be in New Haven either, so don’t go back looking for me.
And don’t be mad at Lydia. She told me to write that.
Have a great season, Cam.
You’re a superstar. Go live your huge life.
~A