Chapter 17
Seventeen
Cami
“What’s good, man?” Leif exchanges an easy handshake with Tarek as he and Sam enter our house.
Sam whistles. “This is a sweet setup, Leif.” He points toward the surround sound speakers and big screen television.
Leif laughs it off. “It’s for all the Hallmark movies Cam watches.”
I flip him the middle finger and he pretends to catch it and slip it into his pocket.
Tarek chuckles. “Man, I don’t know any married couples like y’all. Thanks for coming with us tonight. There are a few local bands playing, some regional talents, and even a couple of big-time headliners.”
“Sounds good,” Leif replies, tilting his head toward the kitchen. “You guys want to have a beer before we head out?”
“Sure,” Sam says.
As Sam and Tarek follow Leif into the kitchen, my guy tosses me a wink.
“I’ll just finish getting ready.” I tug on the half of my hair I haven’t used my straightener on yet.
“You look gorgeous,” Leif replies.
“You have to say that, or you won’t get any tonight,” I call over my shoulder as I walk toward our bedroom.
“Damn,” Tarek mutters.
“Cold-blooded, Cami,” Sam hollers. “Calling Leif out like that!”
Leif laughs and I shake my head. But I can’t stop my grin. I like that Leif has hit it off with my colleagues. It’s important to me that I have my own friends in Knoxville, that I build social connections here that aren’t tangled up in his hockey world.
As I resume fixing my hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror, I think about how each passing week with Leif adds more emotional distance between now and the woman I was three years ago.
After Levi broke my heart and left me with the threat of leaked nude photos as well as the possibility of drug-related charges, I lost myself. I forgot how to trust myself fully and became fearful of my own intuition.
My experience with Levi lacks closure and in the months that followed, I flirted and dated and had fun with boys, but I never let them in past the surface. With Leif, I’m starting to open doors I had slammed shut. Granted, he makes it easy. A hell of a lot easier than most men would. The fact that he’s my husband is as mind-boggling as it’s wonderful. As my confidence comes back, I feel more settled, more grown-up, more like myself, than I have in a long time.
I tuck my hair behind my ears and give myself a once-over. My eyes are bright, my skin glows, and I look happy. Truly content. I smile at myself.
Marriage never looked so damn good.
Flipping off the bathroom light, I head into the kitchen to rally up the boys so we can head to the music festival. Leif insists on driving. I noticed he does that whenever we’re getting drinks in a social setting. When I asked him why, he replied instantly.
I never want you in a position where you get in the car with a drunk driver and don’t know it. I know my limits and I’ll never have more than one when I’m driving you, Cam.
After falling for a guy who pumped me with drugs and chucked a champagne bottle off a seventh-floor balcony, Leif’s words were more soothing than he knows.
We enter the music festival and I’m relieved I wore cut-off black denim shorts and a cropped Rolling Stones tee with silver cowgirl boots. I fit in with the overall vibe—laid-back yet edgy.
“Drinks?” Sam asks, taking our orders.
As expected, Leif orders a Coke. He winks at me, letting me know I should indulge, so I ask for a Blue Moon.
Tarek hooks us up with wristbands while Sam grabs drinks.
“You got us the hookup,” Leif comments, noticing the VIP stamped on the wristband.
“My sister’s dating one of the musicians.” Tarek flips his chin toward the stage.
Leif snorts. “Man, that must be rough. Musicians tend to have the same reputations as athletes.”
He says it as a joke and while it probably holds some weight, not in my experience. Nope, in my experience Leif is a million times better, sexier, and sweeter than the musicians I used to know.
Sam returns with our drinks, and we head to the VIP section where there are more opportunities to order drinks and food and less people. We cross into the section and grab a corner table that’s still available. I slide onto the chair and turn to people watch when my eyes narrow on a guy a handful of tables over.
He’s tall and thin, more fit, less lanky than I remember. His hair still sticks up at odd angles. He’s got fresh ink on his arms and a few piercings in his ears, one small barbell through his eyebrow. When he turns, his blue eyes—not electric, nothing like Leif’s—meet mine. A flicker of recognition flares in his eyes, like he knows me from somewhere but can’t place me.
I grip my pint glass and suck in a breath.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Levi Rousell stares back, his eyebrows pulling together like I’m a puzzle he’s having a hard time solving.
My heart rate doubles, and my hands grow sweaty. My mouth fills with saliva as adrenaline pumps through my veins, causing a bubble of nausea to swell in my stomach.
Leif is facing Sam, talking about something I can’t hear, so he doesn’t see the panic that washes over my expression. It coats me in a sticky sheen that has nothing to do with the Tennessee temperature and everything to do with the man now standing from his chair and stepping toward me.
Levi strides closer and I sit ramrod straight, trying to get my breathing under control as memories from three years ago flash through my mind like a highlights reel.
Levi kissing me on a Barcelona beach.
Levi pushing me down into the sand and me, gripping at his shoulders, pulling him closer as I gave him my virginity. He still has no idea that he was my first.
Hell, he has no idea who I really am.
Levi and me wandering the cobblestone streets of Grenada late at night. Clubbing until sunrise in Madrid. Waiting for him backstage at a concert where thousands—thousands!—of women screamed his name in Ibiza. And he walked off that stage to my waiting arms and kissed me hard.
Levi wasted and slurring, falling so hard he split his eyebrow and needed stitches. Levi’s hold on my arm so tight it became painful. A ring of bruises appeared the following day and he laughed it off.
He laughed everything off. Even me.
And now, he stands in front of me, his eyes clear, his expression thoughtful.
Next to me, Leif turns, his eyes cutting from me to Levi and back again.
“Cam? You okay?” Leif asks.
“I know you from somewhere,” Levi announces.
“Holy shit! You’re Levi Rousell. From The Burnt Clovers!” Tarek stands and hold out a hand. “I’m a big fan.”
“Thanks, man,” Levi says, shaking hands with him easily.
He’s a completely different man now. I guess rehab really changed him. He used to barely acknowledge his male fans and make a pass at their girlfriends instead. But this version of Levi looks healthy. Happy.
I frown, staring at the guy I used to compare every man I met to and realize that this is my chance. This is my window to get the closure I need. To tell him how badly he fucked shit up for me. And he can’t place me? I carried around the mistakes of my time with him for the last three years, allowing them to overshadow everything I did. Every relationship I tried to start. Every decision that required trust in myself.
And he…he doesn’t even remember. Not really.
“Knox, what’s going on?” Leif’s voice is in my ear. His large hand is on my thigh. Rooting me to this moment. To the present.
“Cami?” Sam echoes.
“Cami,” Levi says, understanding dawning in his expression. He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Holy shit. I remember now. We fucked in Barcelona, yeah?”
My heart rate explodes in my temples, blocking out sound. Light fractures. I’m pulled into a vortex of spinning memories and heightened moments.
This is nothing like the blissful time stops I shared with Leif.
No, this is a fucking nightmare.
I open my mouth, but words don’t come out.
Instead, I watch as my husband cocks back his arm and launches it at the internationally acclaimed rhythm guitarist of one of the country’s hottest rock bands.
Leif catches Levi off guard and Levi’s head snaps back.
“Fuck, bro,” Levi accuses, whirling on Leif. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth twisted. But he doesn’t try to hit him back. Instead, he holds up his hands in a surrender position and again, I’m stuck by this version of Levi. Who the hell is this guy? “That came out the wrong way.”
“Cami…” Leif’s voice is a whisper in my ear. A thread I cling to. “Are you okay? Talk to me, babe.”
I stand on shaky legs. “I gotta… I need to go.” I look around, frantically searching for an exit.
And my guy, my husband, is right there. Leif scoops me up and hurries me out of the VIP section. Away from the flailing camera phones. The security. The shouting.
He protects me. He shields me. He brings me to safety.
And I melt into him, even as my body shakes, tears fall, and my two worlds—past and present—collide.