Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
CAMILLE
Itext my parents that I’m almost there.
Feels good to have a phone again. Took forever to transfer the backup from the old one, but all the important stuff is now in my new one. We salvaged everything from my car. Felt weird, seeing it on the side of the road like that the other day, my entire life inside, and no one stole a thing.
The main relief I felt was seeing my laptop still there with my hard drives. My entire business is in there. Once I get settled here, I’ll scout for new clients in the area.
Five days is as long as I can hold off my parents before they send out a search party. West holds my hand on my thigh. One of Styx’s men is following behind on their bike. I asked them to be discreet. I roll my eyes. As if my father won’t hear the bike rev from a mile away.
I sigh.
“What’s up?” West asks.
“Just thinking up a lie.”
“For us?”
I squeeze his hand. “No. For why a man on a motorcycle is following close behind and lurking in the shadows of my parents’ home.”
“Ah,” he nods. “It’s not like they’re oblivious to what Styx does. You can tell them, for reasons Styx won’t say, he has a friend nearby. That’s all.”
I throw my head back and laugh. West glances and smiles before returning his eyes to the road.
“It could work,” he chuckles, knowing it won’t.
My brother came out like someone, after all. That someone is our father. He’s observant. Quiet, but don’t let him fool you. Man’s paying attention to more than you yourself know.
West pulls into my childhood driveway and shifts to park.
Groaning, he turns his body into mine. “I hate that I can’t kiss you goodbye.”
“Anticipation will only make it sweeter,” I tease, even though all I want is to take that gorgeous face and make out with him.
“I’ll finish up as soon as I can,” he promises.
I shake my head. “I told you. I’ll be fine. My parents can talk, and my mother is going to feed me like I’m the turkey she’s cooking on Thanksgiving.”
I love making him laugh. “I’d love to stuff you for Thanksgiving.” He suggestively moves his brows.
“Ew!” I crack up and shove his shoulder. “Hero, no. Don’t you ever say something that corny to me again.”
“I was being sexy,” he fakes being wounded.
I search the front-facing windows of my parents’ house. No faces. I glance over my shoulder at the patch brother just around the corner. Feeling bold, I lean in close to West.
“I’m counting the minutes and hours,” I say, quiet and slowly, “until I’m filled by you so deep, I can taste you.”
Uh oh. Too far?
The gray-green in his eyes darken to storm clouds. His throat groans, but it sounds like literal thunder.
“Little Pixie. You just earned yourself delayed satisfaction when you get home.”
I gasp, my pussy squeezing, searching for something to hold.
“My hand on that bare ass, my tongue teasing, and my cock hard to come inside you.”
“Holy shit,” I barely whisper.
I’m panting and my heart’s about to beat out of my chest. Okay. I most definitely didn’t win that round.
“You suck, Hero.”
That dangerous smirk and his faint dimple appear. “I will later, baby.”
To get him back, I grin. “Maybe so will I.”
“For fuck’s sake. Get out and inside before I turn this car around. Your parents would think the worst of me.”
Laughing to cover this aching arousal, I grab my bag. “Can’t have that.”
“No, we can’t, Nyx. Might have to ask your dad for permission one day.”
My hand halts at the car door handle. My face turns to stare at West, whose eyes are wide. So, he hadn’t meant to say what he did.
“Promises, promises,” I meant to say with an air of humor, but it comes out softly, wistful instead.
Not caring, West takes my hand and kisses it.
“Head inside, baby.”
Cami. Nyx. Little Pixie. Baby. Each hold different meanings, intentions, emotions. I’m in love with hearing them all.
I squeeze his hand and head up my parents’ porch steps. Dad opens the door and steps out to wave at West as he backs away.
“Hey, Daddy,” I stretch up to my toes and kiss his cheek.
“Hey, Camikins. Finally gracing us with your presence?”
I roll my eyes, laughing. “I know, I know. I’m about to get an earful from Mom, so don’t you start too.”
His eyes are focused across the road. Sigh. Of course. Not even two seconds and he noticed.
We head inside to the smell of my mother’s loaded baked potato casserole. Comfort food to the max. I moan, walking into the kitchen just as she takes it out of the oven.
“Cams, darling! You’re home.”
“Hey, Momma. Let me help you.” I set the mat on the island counter as she sets the boiling hot dish on top to cool. “Oh, God, I want it now.” I practically put my face into it.
My mom slaps my arm with her oven mitt. “You’ll burn your beautiful face. Be patient.”
I sigh dramatically before pulling her in for a hug. I’m vertically challenged thanks to my mother. Both my father and brother are giants.
“Honey, what happened to your head?”
Damn. I’d hoped five days was long enough to mask the injury. Even with makeup over it, her eyes are like hawks. I brush my fingertips over it.
“Oh. This is nothing. Clumsy moment while packing boxes. Note to self, don’t trip and hit your head on the wall.” I dismiss it with a wave of my hand and try to move us along. “The house looks so cozy.”
My mother loves decorating for any holiday. It’s probably where I got my love for interior design, which thankfully, she was excited about. My aesthetic design choices? Not so much.
“Mr. Jenkins dropped off some pumpkins yesterday. Can I count on one carving in the midst of your very busy schedule?”
And there it is.
I grab her hand. “Momma? Loving Mother of mine?” Her brow raises. “I’m sorry I didn’t come here the minute I arrived in town.” At her enhanced perturbed look. “Or, that I didn’t move back home.”
“Nora is a lovely young woman, but I’d prefer you here. You can save money while you settle in, find work, and eventually, you can get your own place.”
“Nora is amazing. I’m grateful for her friendship and for inviting me to stay with her. She has the extra space. We drink wine and laugh a lot.” Not a total lie.
“Are you in any kind of trouble?” My dad appears out of nowhere and asks.
“Trouble? Why would she be in any trouble?” My mother’s voice pitch heightens with each statement as she looks back and forth between my father and me.
“No trouble,” I assure. Kind of true? It’s my father’s turn to stare, calling my bullshit.
“What?” I ask, pointing behind me. “That? That’s Styx being Styx.
I couldn’t even tell you what it’s about.
You’d have to ask him. As a matter of fact, make him come over and carve pumpkins with me.
” I spot the melted crust of cheese and crispy bacon on top of the casserole.
“But wait till after I’ve had my fill of this. He’d inhale that in one bite.”
“I’m actually going to call him right now,” my mother says, grabbing her phone from the kitchen counter.
My father studies me. I walk up and wrap my arms around his torso.
“I’m okay, Daddy. All is well. It’s actually really good to be home.”
That placates him. He lets the suspicion go and hugs me back. “Good to have you home again, Camikins.”
Styx promises to come by and pick me up, which I just smile when Mom informs me and Dad, wondering how that’s going to interfere with West. I text to give him a heads up. He texts back that he’ll take care of it with a wink emoji.
“What’s that smile for?” Mom asks, serving me my chai latte.
“Funny meme.” I lock my phone and stuff it in my black jeans.
“You dating?” she keeps fishing.
I sip my chai and hum a negative.
“If you say so.” She totally doesn’t believe me.
For the next couple of hours, we eat—my baby buddah tummy is very happy right now—and Dad starts up the backyard firepit. Mom and I spread out a tarp for the pumpkin guts and get to prepping them for carving.
Moments like these remind me of my favorite childhood memories.
The October chill is balanced by the heat of the flame in front of us, my hands deep inside a messy pumpkin, preparing to create something from what may appear as a mere vegetable.
Mom and Dad participate too, which is the best part.
Music softly plays from the outdoor speakers, and honey cinnamon tea abundantly flows from the carafe Mom prepared for this very afternoon.
Thirty minutes into carving my first of three pumpkins that I promised Mom I’d do, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I wipe my hands on the fresh rag Dad left me before fishing it out.
My breath hitches at the Silver Lakes’ unknown number. I know exactly who it is.
My Dad’s thankfully in the garage, or he’d hone in on that reaction. Mom’s head pops up, curious. I smile and get up.
“I’ll be right back. Gotta take this. It’s the tattoo studio,” I lie.
“Bring with you the pumpkin cookie tray when you come back.”
“You got it,” I say, already heading inside.
Not wanting to risk Dad overhearing, I run upstairs to my old room and close the door.
“What are you doing calling me?” I demand as a greeting.
“Baby, what the fuck? I can’t find you anywhere. You really moved out? I thought that was you being difficult and bullshitting me.”
I swear, this fucker is so delusional.
“Brian. I left Silver Lakes. I told you that. Also, you and I have been over for years.”
“Baby, just tell me where you are.”
My veins grow cold. I can hear it in his voice. He’s high.
“I’m blocking your number. Again. Please, get yourself proper help, Brian. And leave me out of your trouble with the MC.”
“Baby, baby, baby,” he slurs, my stomach cringing at how it sounds coming from him. Feels wrong having anyone other than West call me by that endearment.
“Listen,” he lowers his voice. “They’re all talk. Don’t pay mind to that.”