Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Cam
“I need a favor,” I say into my phone, leaning against the truck outside the high school.
“Is this a borrow-a-grill favor or a we-need-to-hide-a-body favor?” Knox asks.
“Somewhere in between? I need a babysitter.”
There’s a beat of silence, then a low laugh. “And I bet I know who the child is.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. “It is for one evening and she’s the funniest kid ever. Are you and Brynn busy tonight?”
“No plans,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I want to take Kate out. Not just Gordy's. Something different. Evie gets excited about hanging out with you two. I thought I could bring her by around five thirty?”
“Yeah, bring her over,” Knox says. “We’ll make a night of it. I’ll put on one of those dinosaur shows she likes and Brynn will break out the crayons. She’ll be thrilled.”
“Thanks, man.”
He just chuckles. “Five thirty. And Cam?”
“Yeah?”
“Have fun.”
I hang up and try not to think too hard about the fact that I’m nervous. I’ve done the apps, I’ve planned dates and dinners and weekend trips. But none of that felt like this.
I park my truck in Kate’s driveway, the sun is starting to mellow, the kind of bright that turns golden around the edges. Her car is here, Evie’s scooter is tipped over on the lawn. The sight loosens something in my chest every single time I see it.
Before I can knock, it swings open and Evie launches herself out like she has been spring-loaded, Matilda tucked under her good arm.
“Coach Wells.” She stops in front of me, looking up. “What are you doing here?”
I laugh. “Hello to you too. I have a surprise.”
Her eyes go wide. “A surprise surprise or a boring surprise?”
“Definitely not boring.”
Kate appears behind her, one hand on the doorframe. She’s wearing cutoff shorts and a soft T-shirt, her hair thrown up in a clip, the curve of her mouth cautious but curious. “What are you up to, Cameron Wells?”
“Are you free for a few hours?”
She lifts a brow. “That depends. What do you have planned?”
“Something fun. Evie gets one fun evening and we get another.”
Evie practically vibrates. “What’s my part?”
“You—” I tell her, “if your mom says it’s okay—are going to Knox and Brynn’s. They’re super excited. There will be crayons and a dinosaur show.”
She gasps like I just told her she won the lottery. “With Uncle Knox and Aunt Brynn?”
“Yes, ma’am. I already checked with them,” I add. “They’re waiting for you now.”
Kate’s expression shifts from suspicion to surprise. “You arranged that?”
“Of course I did.” I shrug. “We’ll have an evening together. Both of you get something fun.”
Evie is already halfway to the hallway. “I have to get my shoes. And my crayons. And my pajamas. And my tiger socks.”
“You are not moving in!” Kate calls after her, but she is smiling now. She looks at me. “You’re full of surprises today.”
“I know I am. I wanted to do something fun with you.” I lower my voice. “You might want to put your swimsuit on under your clothes.”
That gets me a full pause. “My swimsuit?”
“Yes.”
“Under my clothes?”
“That is how it usually works, yeah.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re being smug.”
“I’m being mysterious,” I tease. “There’s a difference.”
She tries to fight a smile and loses. “Fine. Come in. Evie is going to take thirty years to pick out socks anyway.”
She disappears down the hall while I wait in the living room, taking in the familiar clutter.
Evie’s drawings on the coffee table. A pair of tiny sneakers kicked under a chair.
A stack of library books beside the couch.
It feels lived in. It feels like home in a way my place has never managed, even with all the sports gear and perfectly hung pictures.
Kate returns a few minutes later. The shorts are the same, the T-shirt is the same, but now I know there is a swimsuit underneath and I can’t un-know that.
Evie comes out from her room, Matilda’s tail in one hand, her backpack bulging at the seams over her shoulder. Kate shakes her head at the site, grabs her purse and lifts Evie’s backpack from her back and looks at me.
“All right,” she says. “Hit me with this grand plan, Wells.”
“You’ll see.”
The drive to Knox and Brynn’s is short. Evie talks the whole way about what dinosaurs might be on TV and whether Brynn will color inside the lines or not. Kate listens, one hand resting on the console, a small smile on her lips, relaxed in a way I haven’t seen enough.
At Knox and Brynn’s duplex, the front door is already open. Brynn standing with a stack of coloring books in her arms. Knox is behind her, the TV light flickering over his shoulder.
Evie bolts inside the second her seatbelt is off. “I’m here,” she sings, dropping her backpack on the rug. “Do you have snacks? Do you have dinosaurs?”
Brynn laughs and crouches to her level. “We sure do. And crayons. And markers if your mom says it is okay.”
Kate points a mocking stern finger. “No drawing on the dog.”
“Or Knox,” Brynn adds. “Although honestly he might deserve it.”
From the living room, the rumble of a nature documentary narrator spills out. Knox leans around the corner and gives me a nod. “Got the prehistoric lineup ready. T-Rex and everything.”
Evie squeals. “Yes! He has big teeth like Uncle Knox.”
Everyone laughs. Knox shakes his head, smiling. “Don’t hold back, Evie.” He steps forward to pick up Evie’s backpack. “We got her. Go have fun, kids.”
Evie plants her hands on her hips. “Hey. I’m the kid.”
He grins down at her. “Exactly. Go pick our first dinosaur show.”
Kate’s eyes shine, amused and a little soft around the edges. She kisses Evie’s forehead, lingering just long enough to whisper something I don’t catch. When she straightens, she looks at Brynn.
“Are you sure you two are okay with this?” she asks.
Brynn nods. “We love our little Evie, we’re definitely okay.”
Knox slings his arm around Brynn’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Go. We got your girl.”
We say our goodbyes and head back to the truck. Kate is quiet for a moment after I start the engine.
“She loves them,” she says finally. “She feels safe here.”
“Good,” I say. “She should.”
She looks at me. “Thank you for setting that up.”
“You’re welcome.” I tap the steering wheel lightly. “Ready for part two?”
“Ready as I will ever be,” she says. “As long as it does not involve you pushing me off something high.”
“No promises,” I answer, and she snorts.
The road out to the Falls winds past the last of the town’s houses and into trees. The sun drops lower, slipping between branches. Kate leans forward in her seat when the sound of water reaches us through the open windows.
I park the truck and I get out, rounding the hood to her door. After she hops out, I grab the bag from the back.
We hike down the worn path, careful on the rocks. The falls spill over boulders into a wide pool, the surface catching bits of light like scattered coins, ferns and cedars creating a secluded space, containing the hushed roar of the water.
Kate stops at the edge of the pool and just looks.
“Wow,” she whispers. “I haven’t been out here since high school. Funny how it’s just outside of town, but I never make time to come out here.”
“Then you’re overdue,” I say. “Stay there.”
I spread a blanket over a patch of grass and start unpacking the basket.
Crackers go down first, then the three wedges of cheese and the prosciutto that Glen at Lowry’s deli counter suggested.
A container of strawberries joins them, followed by a jar of olives and a few chocolate squares.
I set a bottle of Prosecco in the center with two Solo cups beside it, the whole spread looking better than I expected.
When I glance up, she’s watching me with a look that says she doesn’t quite know what to do.
“What is all that?” she asks.
“Girl dinner,” I say, straight-faced.
She laughs, the sound bright against the water. “You did research.”
“Maybe.”
She drops onto the blanket across from me, folding her legs under her. “Okay, Wells, you’ve impressed me.”
We eat slowly, sharing crackers and slicing cheese, passing things back and forth. She makes fun of my olive choices. I tell her her cracker stacking is a structural hazard. The conversation drifts from small things to deeper ones without either of us forcing it.
I brush the cracker crumbs from my hands and nod toward the falls. “You know, people in high school used to say if you made a wish here, it would come true.”
She takes a sip of wine. “They did say that. If I remember correctly, I wished for a car that didn’t break down and a boyfriend who wasn’t an idiot.”
“How did that work out for you?” I ask.
“I got a car eventually,” she says, then she looks up at me with a teasing grin. “The second part has recently looked achievable.”
My chest tightens. “Oh yeah?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. What would you wish for now?”
I consider it for a moment. There are a lot of things I could list. A state championship. Less paperwork. One of those robot lawn mowers. But each one feels trivial somehow.
“I think I would wish for time,” I say. “I’m turning thirty soon and it just feels like I’m going through the motions. I want more time for when things get good.”
Her brows pinch. “Things aren’t good now?”
I laugh, my hand reaching out to rub her back. “They’re improving.”
Her expression shifts, turning soft. “That is a good wish, then.”
“What about you? Give me a new wish.”
She picks at the edge of the blanket. “For Evie to always know she is loved and safe. For the library to keep growing. For there to be more days like this, where my brain is not constantly running numbers and schedules and worst-case scenarios.”
It hits me how much she carries. How rarely she lets herself want anything that is just for her.
“You deserve that,” I say.
She looks up sharply, like she was not expecting me to say it. “Some days it feels selfish to want more than what I already have.”
“It’s not selfish,” I tell her. “It’s human. It means you want to provide a good life for Evie and hopefully for yourself, too.”
She holds my gaze for a second, then she reaches for a strawberry.
She bites into it, and a drop of juice slips down her chin.
She laughs and moves to wipe it with the back of her hand, but I’m faster.
My thumb catches the trail of sweetness at the corner of her mouth.
Without thinking, I bring it to my lips.
The taste of sugar and fruit hits my tongue, and I watch her go still in front of me.
The air between us changes, and for a second, all I can think about is closing the distance.
I see the heat in her gaze, the way her shoulders rise with a deeper breath.
It would be easy to tip this night into something fast and hungry.
We’ve done fast. We’ve done hungry. Tonight, I want something else.
“Come on,” I say, letting my mouth curve into a small smile instead of a kiss. “Let’s put that swimsuit to use.”
She blinks. “What?”
I nod toward the water. “We’re getting in.”
Her lips part, surprise giving way to something brighter. “You want to go swimming?”
“I brought you out to the Falls,” I say. “Feels like a waste if we don’t at least get our feet wet.”