SALT (Summer Nights)

8. Cameron

Chapter 8

Cameron

" T hanks again for letting me stay here. How's Florida?"

"Hot, but the house we are renting for the summer is on the water, and the owners are even letting us use the boat. You need to come down and spend a weekend with us. We can lay out by the pool while Connor plays cabana boy."

"Hey, I thought the two of you were going to be so busy you didn't have time for anything else. Why is Everett here if Connor is running around down there wearing aprons and playing drink bitch?" I ask as I throw my suitcase on the bed in her guest bedroom.

"Cam, you know he's busy, but on the weekends, he's going to try to be home with me. He has other goals while we're down here, if you know what I mean."

I know exactly what she's referring to. Connor didn't want to fly home on weekends to work in Waterloo because he didn't want to miss an opportunity to put a baby in her. They've been trying since their wedding, which hasn't been too long. Mackenzie is fine with it not happening right away. Granted, I'm sure there is some level of disappointment that affects her every month when her period shows up and she doesn't get to give Connor the news he's hoping for.

"If you were trying to sell me on coming down for a weekend, you probably should have left that last part out. The last thing I want to hear is the two of you fucking while I'm in the other room becoming a born-again virgin."

"Fine, we'll schedule it for two months from now and have both you and Everett down. The two of you should be sleeping together by then, and we only have one spare bedroom."

I fall backward onto the bed. "You think coming to your place was a good idea?"

"I do?—"

"Make sure Cameron uses the alarm system while she is at the house. I want it armed at all times." I hear Connor in the background.

"Did you hear that?" She asks.

"Yes, I heard. Why is he so worried about the alarm? Do you guys have something crazy valuable in the house I should be aware of?"

"As a matter of fact, we do… you."

"Haha, very funny. Well, right now, I'd be open to a home invasion with a masked man having his way with me. Forced entry—the whole nine yards. My brain won't have time to shut it down the way I have every other offer that's come around in the past year," I say as I roll over on the bed and inspect my new room for the foreseeable future. It's not the royal-blue four walls I've become accustomed to at Everett's. Mackenzie is great with interior design, but this room has yet to be touched since she moved in. It's plain and screams designed by Moira Callahan. Apparently, I'm destined to be reminded of that woman everywhere I stay. Connor grew up in this house. It was Moira and Everett's home before they gifted it to Connor for his eighteenth birthday. I bet Mackenzie hasn't decorated this room yet because she has plans to turn it into the nursery. "You swear you haven't told Connor about my crush on his father?"

"I promise, but…"

"But? You can't leave me hanging on a 'but,' not when it comes to this."

"Sorry, I had to go into the bathroom so Connor wouldn't overhear our change in subject. What I was going to say is I think he suspects something."

I sit straight up on the bed. "What did he say? I need the conversation verbatim." Connor's lack of approval could end things between me and Everett before they start.

"When I told him you wanted to stay at our place for the summer until you could find a place of your own, his exact words were, 'I guess that means she's not fucking my dad.'"

"And what did you say?" I ask as I bite my nails, a terrible habit I haven't had since I was a teenager.

"Well, initially, I didn't say anything. The comment put me in an awkward spot. It caught me off guard, and I couldn't tell if he was fishing, joking, or legitimately believed that was what had been going on. So I went with, 'Why would you say that?' and his response was, 'Cameron has been obsessed with my dad for years. He's single, and she's no longer jailbait.'"

"That's it?" Out of all the comments he could have made, that's tame. "How was his tone? Lighthearted, annoyed, relieved, indifferent…" I hear a toilet flush. "Did you really just pee with me on the phone?"

"As if you haven't been in the bathroom with me at the bar while I peed. I needed to pee, and I had to make my reasoning for coming here authentic."

I hear the faucet turn on and grow impatient. "Well…"

"I was getting there, sheesh. It was obviously said with a great deal of sarcasm, but it's also clearly something that's been on his mind, which means he's had time to sit with the idea. I don't think he loves it. Cam, I know you've already considered how a relationship between the two of you will look to those who have been in your life forever. It will be shocking, but I know my husband, and I think if he sees that his father is happy, he would be accepting of whatever that looks like."

There's a knock on the door… "Mackenzie, we're going to be late for our reservation."

"I gotta go. Text me if you need anything," Mac says right before she cuts the call.

I toss my phone across the bed. Mackenzie's opinions on my relationship fuel my hope that all of this will turn out as I've always wanted. Not only is she my best friend, but she's new to town. She and Connor were married a week after meeting each other. Mac has a unique outsider perspective on top of having a family connection. Connor is her other half. If she doesn't think he'll stand in the way, the only person who can is Everett, and I can feel him breaking.

I knew exactly what I was doing this afternoon when I said I'd move out. I said I wouldn't force his hand. That ended badly the last time; he literally booked a red-eye to Boston the same day. Hindsight is a bitch. It was a low blow that showed my age, but I wanted him to feel something. I wanted him to admit his feelings are more. I'm confident that's what this is now, or at a minimum, I'm sure that's where his short fuse is coming from. He didn't stop feeling things for me, and now he's stuck with me, not only at home but at work too. If I had to bet money on it, that's part of why he entered the team store like a bull in a china shop. His conflicted thoughts about what he should feel versus what he does feel got the best of him.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or at least that's what the old adage says. Sure, he's technically been gone for a few months, so if this axiom is true, our reunion shouldn't have been so toxic. However, we weren't lovers, there was no romantic relationship between us, or at least an acknowledged one, but there were entanglements, and it's those damn knots that we're struggling to untie now. I am off-limits to him. I understand that. In his mind, all that exists are reasons he and I can't be together. Which is why I'm leaving. I must show him the reasons I should be in his space are greater.

The creaky-ass screen door downstairs pulls me out of my thoughts, and I'm immediately out of my bed. While I'd love to hope that whoever is at my new front door is Everett, I'm positive he hasn't missed me enough to show up yet.

"Who the fuck is here? No one knows I'm here yet," I grumble as I head downstairs.

I make a mental note to text Mackenzie about getting the security system's app on my phone to check the cameras instead of answering the door miles outside of town while I'm alone in a big, empty house. The only reason I'm not freaked out now is because I actually locked the front door when I came in since I had no plans of leaving for the night. When I reach the Romeo balcony that looks over the foyer, I spot a white BMW in the driveway through the transom window and immediately know who my visitor is.

"What the hell are you doing here, Evan?" I say as I open the front door.

"Hannah kicked me out."

"Wait, you threw a divorce party. How is she just now kicking you out? Hasn't that already happened?"

His left arm finds the door frame, and he leans in. "I need a place to stay."

"Then go to Everett's."

I start to close the door when he sticks out his foot. "That was my first stop, but apparently, I can no longer stay there."

I pull the door open a smidge more. "Wait, Everett wouldn't let you stay at the house?"

Evan is on my list of least favorite people. I don't feel bad that his wife cheated on him with his best friend or that she kicked him out. Hannah is Connor's high school sweetheart who cheated on Connor with Evan. The fact that he would entertain fucking Connor's girlfriend while Moira and Everett extended their home to him speaks volumes about his character, but to then believe Hannah wouldn't cheat on him too… that's just plain ignorance. Whatever the case may be, foolishness or self-importance, I'm willing to overlook those things just to hear why Everett has suddenly rescinded his hospitality.

"He pulled in behind me when I was grabbing my duffle bag out of the trunk and said, 'This isn't a hotel. You need to find somewhere else to stay.' It was obvious something, or someone, had already pissed him off…" he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, he's right. That crap you pulled hosting a freedom party while he was out of town was shitty, and you're almost thirty years old. You're too old to be acting like that and mooching off him. You're not poor. You have a good job, which means you can afford a hotel."

I start to close the door again when he says, "She cleared out my checking account. It's why I didn't push Everett. I need his help figuring out what my rights are, and I didn't want to further piss him off."

"One night, Evan, that's all you get. In case you forgot, this isn't my house either." My eyes hold his; it's on the tip of my tongue to add "and Connor wouldn't want you staying here either" but I don't. He knows that, and while I don't care for Evan, he's obviously having a bad day, and I'm not trying to be an asshole. So I throw the door open and add, "You can have the couch."

There are other guest rooms, but I don't need him to feel comfortable. He's the exact type who will take advantage of your kindness and bleed you dry, leaving you bitter and making you question if you were ever kind to start.

"Thanks," he says. I hear the front door close behind us, and I head to the kitchen. If Evan is staying here tonight, I will need a stiff drink.

"How did you know I was here anyway?"

"I'm still on the family location sharing," he says, following behind me. "I was going to see if you'd sneak me into the basement or pool house, and then I saw that you were here, and I knew Connor had already left for Florida. Why are you here? Did Everett give you the same speech?"

I pull open the freezer in search of the Watermelon Whiskey I know Mac keeps in there. We always have it on hand for shots. Uncorking the frosty bottle, I forgo searching for a glass and instead take a long pull straight from the source. The sweet and salty notes immediately hit my tongue, instantly settling my nerves and promising to alleviate the anxiety threatening to settle in.

"Something like that," I say with my back to him. I hear him pull up a stool to join me, but I don't acknowledge it. The last thing I need is for Evan to think we're friends or, worse, suspect anything is going on between me and Everett. "It's been a long day. I'm going to my room."

Bottle in hand, I exit the room. Evan's drama is the last thing I need to get involved in.

" I s it casual Friday?" Parker asks as he enters the shop.

"Oh, you got jokes today. It's a stadium, Parker. I think I'm allowed to wear jeans."

"You can. I'm not arguing that fact one bit. However, Cameron Salt doesn't wear jeans."

Parker is right. I like to dress up, wear makeup, and look nice. It makes me feel good. Unfortunately, today is not one of those days. I couldn't sleep to save my life last night. I was so convinced I heard someone lurking around outside. I was alone living at Everett's while he was away in Boston, but I was never scared. It's probably because a big part of me knows how seriously he takes security. He may have gone radio silent and left town, but I knew the security system was always on. I knew he was watching. While Connor has a security system, I know he's not on the other end checking it with the same zeal. As soon as it was light outside, I threw my covers off and pulled out the first things I encountered in the drawers I filled with some of my clothes. Which means I am dressed down, wearing faded light-blue boyfriend jeans and a cropped white top. I didn't even grab my makeup bag before I hurried out of the house and into my car. Luckily, I at least had lip gloss and a tube of mascara in my purse.

"Did you come here for a specific reason other than to comment on my wardrobe?"

When I climb down the ladder from storing the extra inventory on the shelves above the hanging T-shirts, he's by my side.

"Cam, seriously, are you okay? You look tired."

"Ugh…" I draw out as I grab the scissors sitting on a display shelf to break down the box I just emptied. "Fine, if you insist on making this a thing. Yes, I'm tired, hungry, and overall annoyed."

He takes the box out of my hands. "Hungry and tired, I can fix, and maybe after we take care of that, you won't be annoyed." He tosses the broken-down box onto the pile in the middle of the store before adding, "Come on, I just saw the snack truck leaving, which means concessions just got food. Let's go raid it."

"Park, I'm not going out there with you. If you want to do me a solid, you can bring me some snacks."

His blue Bulldog jersey clings to his muscular chest as he turns to me, his expression bemused. "Why not? Are you still mad at me?"

We haven't really talked since the dinner we had at Connor's house before he and Mac left for Florida, and even then, there wasn't much talking. Parker knows about my crush on Everett; therefore, using him at the wedding was different. He was fully aware of what I was doing and why. The favor he asked of me is not the same. He won't tell me why he asked it, and I refuse to let him use me to hurt Everett. Walking out of this room with Parker increases my chances of Everett catching us together and drawing conclusions.

"Is that even a question?"

His blue gaze drops to the ground. "Did I kiss you?"

"What?" I question, unsure where he's going.

"At dinner with Everett watching, did I kiss you?"

"No," I answer meekly.

"Did I touch you?"

"No, you didn't touch me."

His thumb runs along his bottom lip. "So tell me why you're mad at me."

"Do you plan on doing any of those things?" His eyes return to mine, narrowing as he rolls his lips. I shrug before adding, "You know, as part of whatever revenge plan you have against Everett."

He subtly shakes his head. "Not when I know it would hurt you." Long seconds of silence stretch between us before he nods toward the door. "Want to get that snack now?"

"Yeah, I could go for a bag of blue Doritos right now."

Parker is rummaging through boxes and checking the branding to find me a bag of Doritos as I slide onto the counter and watch. Missing breakfast is catching up with me. I feel like I could curl up right here, using a box of Snickers for a pillow, and sleep peacefully until tomorrow.

"You know we probably shouldn't be stealing food. We're going to throw off the inventory counts, and you know how much that sucks."

"The concessions manager doesn't start until tomorrow, which means inventory hasn't been done yet…" He pushes another box aside and says, "Boom, blue Doritos. One bag or two? You look like you could use two."

"Okay, you've already passively told me I look like shit enough times for one day. Message received loud and clear. We can move on now."

A bag of chips lands in my lap. "I did no such thing." Then, pulling open the door on the beverage cooler, he asks, "Alani, Prime, or Iced Coffee? Nothing else is cold yet."

"Alani, please."

He slides an Alani in front of me, and I sit up and pop the tab. "So you're not going to tell me why you're so tired?"

I take a few big sips of the energy drink, still unsure if I care to share my new sleeping arrangements. "Are you going to tell me what beef you have with Everett?" I pull open the bag of Doritos as he hops up on the counter across from me with his bag of chips, drink, and power bar.

"It's nothing you need to worry about, Cam." He shrugs as he pops a chip in his mouth.

I want to pry not only because I want to know about everything that involves Everett, but also because I can tell whatever it is between them is affecting Parker, and he's my friend. I care about him. I'm convinced if he would just tell me, we could work this all out and move on. He wouldn't be perturbed, and I wouldn't be stuck in the middle, but I leave it, because while I may not have the answers, he told me he wouldn't use me to hurt Everett, knowing that it would, in turn, hurt me.

"I've been staying at Connor's all week, and last night, I would have bet my entire trust fund that someone was outside the house. I didn't sleep a wink."

"What the hell, Cam? Why are you staying at Connor's, and why didn't you call me? I would have come over."

I pop another chip in my mouth and speak around the salty morsel as it silences my hunger pains. "He has a security system. If there was someone truly out there, it would have gone off."

He jumps off the counter and runs his hands through his hair. "Cam, it could have been someone casing the place. Looking for a blind spot or way to get in. Does Connor's house have a safe room? What would you do if the alarm actually went off?"

"Okay, way to make me feel good about going home tonight. You are so not helping."

Stopping before me, he drops his hands from his head to his hips. "I'm coming over tonight. You shouldn't be alone in a house on the outskirts of town."

I'm just about to respond when Everett's voice, echoing down the tunnel beside the concession stand, steals my focus. Whatever words I hoped to eavesdrop on are lost as soon as he and a tall woman with dark brown hair enter the concourse. Their voices instantly drop to inaudible decibels.

"Who is that?" I nod toward their retreating backs.

Parker follows my line of sight. "You really have holed yourself up in that shop, haven't you? That's Lauren. She's the new Event Coordinator." I watch Everett open the door for her as they exit the stadium. Fucking great, I'm over here losing sleep, and he's already getting chummy with the new girl in town. I don't need to see her face to know she's new. A woman like her, especially in a small town, doesn't go unnoticed.

"What aren't you telling me? Why did you move out?"

"I don't have the energy for this conversation, Parker. I'm so tired. I just want to go home and sleep for, like, ten days," I pout as my already sour mood worsens.

The last thing I expected to happen when I left was to be replaced. Though I shouldn't be surprised, he clearly has a type. Tall, big breasts, long, dark brown hair; oh yeah, and someone born in the same decade.

"Fine, I'll follow you home. I'm sure Connor has something I can throw on." He looks down at his practice gear. "I need a shower."

"Park, it's fine. I'm a big girl. It was probably just raccoons, and my overactive imagination got the best of me. You know what… It could have been Evan. He stayed over Monday night after his ex-wife kicked him out and Everett refused to let him stay at his place." The Evan theory is a stretch. I only let him stay one night, and he shocked the hell out of me the next day when I came home and he was gone. I was convinced he'd still be on the couch, begging for just one more night. "Let's not forget, this is Waterloo. Nothing exciting or crazy ever happens here."

He tosses his unopened bag of Doritos back into the box. "I don't like it, Cam, and I'm surprised Everett let it happen. One more night. If you come in here tomorrow looking like shit again, I'm coming over." A text comes through on his phone, and his lips pinch. "I've got to take care of something, but if you can't sleep, or if you hear anything, call me."

T he sound of something crashing outside stirs me awake. I lay stiff as a board, unsure if it was real or just a figment of my imagination. The second I got home, I double-checked everything, ensuring all the doors and windows were locked, re-armed the alarm, and took a hot bath before falling asleep in the middle of the bed with nothing but a towel. My body was jello, and I was too damn exhausted to move. I'm now currently internally cursing my lack of motivation. I slowly turn my head toward the window. I fell asleep in the master bedroom because that's where the big clawfoot soaker tub with my name written all over it was. I hate first-floor bedrooms. It doesn't matter if there are blackout curtains or window blinds, I always feel like there's an eyeball on the other side, finding the smallest crack to peer through and watch.

Mackenzie has full floor-to-ceiling sheer curtains, the kind that filters light, and because it's dark outside, all I see is the dim glow of moonlight. Thank fuck. If I saw a damn shadow, I'd probably have a heart attack. I lay still for seconds longer, waiting, not wanting to alert any potential serial killers lurking outside to my awakened state. Once I'm convinced that, yet again, my mind is playing tricks on me, I slowly sit up in bed and rewrap the towel around my body before searching for my phone to check the time. That's when I hear the distinct sound of a floorboard creak, and my heart starts beating in overdrive. That was a weighted creak. Connor and Mackenzie's house has a wraparound deck, and I am all too familiar with the sounds those old, weathered deck boards make. If that were an animal, the noise would have been higher pitched, shorter, and likely followed by little feet scampering.

My palms start sweating as I frantically run my hands over the bed in search of my phone only to remember I put it on the dresser right outside the master closet and bathroom door. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now I have to risk making noise. My toes have just barely grazed the cool wood floors when the floodlight outside the window goes off. Any care I had about being discovered goes out the window as I sprint toward the dresser, grab my phone, and quickly sidestep into the master closet, gently closing the door behind me. My fingers can't unlock my screen quick enough. Parker's number is saved to my favorites and the list of people I keep close is small, so my thumb quickly connects with his name.

When the phone starts ringing, I hold it tight between my shoulder and ear as I pull one of Connor's shirts off the rack. I know I joked I was excited about being abducted by a masked man a few nights ago, but now that the reality of actually being taken is here, it's not as appealing.

"Come on, Parker. Pick up…" I quietly whine. When it goes to voicemail, I quickly pull on the shirt before shining the light around the closet. I've been in Mac's closet before, but not in the dark. I head toward the back, where I know she has dresses hanging, and tuck myself between them, weighing my next call. I don't want to call Everett. I'm determined not to be an obligation. His best friend's daughter, who he has to rescue in the middle of the night because she doesn't have any other family.

I scroll down to Elijah's name. He and I aren't close by any means, but he's Parker's brother. We see each other at family functions, and we worked the fields together. It's not an ideal choice, but neither is being chopped up into tiny pieces.

"Hello."

"Elij… wait, Parker, is that you? Why are you answering Elijah's phone? You know what? Don't answer that. I need you. I think someone is outside the house for real this time. Something woke me up, and then I heard a distinct floorboard creek, and the floodlight went off—" A call coming through steals my words. Everett is calling me. I quickly hit decline. How fast can you get here?"

"Cam, you need to answer that call."

"What? How did you know I was getting a call?"

"Don't worry about it," I can hear the annoyance in his tone. "I'm so fucking sorry, Cam. I won't get to you in time. Answer that call."

"Parker, you said you'd come. Please, please, please, I'll let you hold my hand. Please come so it doesn't have to be him."

"It was him the second that floodlight went off, Cameron. He's already en route. Answer the call…" I hear Elijah say something in the background, and then Parker says, "I have to go."

There's no room to argue because he cuts the call.

The sound of glass breaking has me curling into a ball and pulling one of Mac's dresses off the hanger to throw over myself, hopeful whoever is breaking and entering will see a pile of clothes and not my pathetic ass. My phone vibrates in my hand, and I see Everett calling me again.

"Everett," I answer, trying hard to force calmness into my voice when all I feel is sheer terror.

"Cameron, where are you?" he demands, his voice strained with annoyance.

"You know where I'm at, Everett," I answer, determined not to be the damsel in distress that I am. Plus, he knows where I am. What the hell kind of question is that? It's that hint of annoyance that has me finding my spine. I'm half tempted to run out of the closet and take my chances with my would-be assailant.

"Cameron…" I hear a smidgeon of regret in his tone. It's been the standard between us lately. He loses his cool and then backtracks. "This isn't the time for playing games. Where are you in the house? Don't mess with me on this."

"I'm in the closet in the master bedroom."

"Good. Go to the door. To the right of it, behind the belt rack, is a keypad. I need you to enter 1010."

I can't see in here. I was too scared to turn on the light, afraid doing so would give up my hiding spot. The sound of heavy footsteps walking down the hallway on the other side of the wall has my body locked in fear. I couldn't move if I wanted to. Fucking pathetic. I want to tell him I can't, but I also don't want him to see my fear. So instead, I say nothing.

"Cameron, answer me. What's happening?"

"I'm waiting to see what the guy looks like before I lock the door," I answer sarcastically because, apparently, satirical utterances are my coping mechanism.

"Shit," I hear him mutter. "Don't move. Don't fucking move. Stay where you are."

I hear the click of the doorknob as the door to the master opens, and I click off the phone before whispering, "I love you." He may not hear it, but at least I said it before I met my end. The closet was the worst place to hide. If someone is here to steal, this is probably one of the first places they'd check for valuables: jewelry, safe boxes, and expensive purses. It doesn't matter that Mackenzie isn't into any of those things. They don't know that. Damn it, Cameron, all you had to do was crawl to the door and key in a code. The antique handle on the closet door subtly tinkles with what is undoubtedly the weight of a hand gripping the smoothed bronze lever. As I take my right hand and start to trace the sign of the cross over my heart. I hear the sound of sirens in the distance. The knob releases with a resounding clack as whoever is on the other side abandons their mission as the sirens grow closer.

As the telltale signs of a window opening ring out, so does the sound of the front door slamming open, followed by heavy footsteps running down the hall. It has to be Everett. I strain my ears, unmoving, convinced all of this could be a figment of my imagination. It's possible I'm still dreaming because shit like this doesn't happen here, but then the door opens, and the light flicks on. My eyes take a second to adapt to the bright intrusion, but as I reflectively blink away the dilation, my eyes connect with Everett's, and I pray this isn't a dream because I don't see annoyance or anger, which are probably warranted from the fact that I hung up the phone. Instead, I see relief and not just the reassuring kind. I see the heart-tending kind, the type that says I almost lost someone who means something to me.

But it's gone almost as quickly as it came when he says, "Let's go. You're moving back in with me. It's not up for debate. I won't accept no for an answer." He runs his hand through his dark hair, the muscle in his bicep stretching the cuff of his polo as he pulls at the long length on top. His eyes assess my pitiful position, arms wrapped around my bare legs with Mackenzie's black satin dress draped over my shoulders. The last thing I want is his pity. I didn't want him to come tonight. Damn it, I didn't dial his number.

"How did you get to me so fast?" His mouth is closed but I don't miss how his tongue runs over his teeth as he drops his head and rubs his hand over his jaw. I'm not in the mood to argue, but I want to know. He's determined to push me away, yet here he is, riding in on his horse to rescue me. "How, Everett?" I grind out, my tone a little more cross than I intended, but fuck it. I have a million emotions coursing through my body right now, and he's more than a bit deserving of my wrath, given how we've parted the past few times.

Raising his eyes to mine, he says, "You leaving me doesn't release me of you. The chains that bind my mind don't break because you say it should be so. We both know I don't dismiss my commitments, nor am I one to run. Running doesn't rid me of the obligation…" He trails off, his eyes narrowing slightly, a tell that says he's choosing his following words carefully. "The only peace to be found comes from honoring my commitments. We both know I watch you. I'm always watching you, Cameron. You coming here didn't change that."

Our eyes stay locked as I memorize his words. Words I know I will spend countless hours lying in bed thinking about later, when I'm not so rattled and he isn't towering over me stealing what limited oxygen is left in the room.

Heavy boots thud against the wood floor before a police officer breaks the silence. "Sir, is Ms. Salt in there?"

Everett holds up his hand to stop the man from entering further and seeing me in my disgraceful state of undress. "She's unharmed. We'll be out in a minute." I drop my eyes to the floor as the scene before me sinks in. I may not have been physically harmed, but my pride has definitely taken a hit. He turns to exit the closet, but not before adding. "Don't bother packing. We're leaving now. I'll send someone to collect your things tomorrow."

W hen I finally walked out of the closet, I expected Everett to be waiting in the other room, speaking to the police, but he wasn't. He was standing at the entry to the bedroom, aggressively typing away on his phone as the police combed the house. I know he went to school with the new police chief, so I was sure he was texting him a list of demands. While I was sitting on the closet floor curled up in fear, the words Everett gave me may have seemed insensitive, but where his words fall short, his actions tend to make up for them. I've watched him for years, and I'm more than familiar with his idiosyncrasies. The man was raised by a district attorney who then went on to campaign for a senate seat, which he won. Everett Callahan has spent his entire life serving, conforming, and being what people need him to be, and he's done it without complaint. It's the words he doesn't say that speak the loudest.

Seeing me, seeing that I was unharmed, wasn't enough. There was no way he was going to leave the room. Doing so meant taking his eyes off me. Standing there on his phone, I knew he was fiercely multitasking, hiring a new security company, texting the police chief and his brothers, and using every weapon in his arsenal to find the person who dared to break into his son's house. But duty aside, I saw what most wouldn't. The simple act of him standing beside the door told me he was taking something for himself. He may have used the word obligation in reference to me, a word I despise hearing from him. I want him to want to be around me for no other reason than that there's no place he'd rather be. However, obligation wasn't the only word he used. He also used the word peace. There might be a raging storm inside of him, and I might be the cause, but at the eye of every storm, there is also peace. I bring him peace.

It was that thought that I held onto as we drove home in silence once again. Everett kept his eyes forward, pinned to the road, his right hand on the wheel while his left hand occasionally ran over his bottom lip. I could tell he had words he wanted to give me, but he didn't. His choosing to say nothing felt better than any ire he may have spewed. Choosing to stay silent meant he cared. He didn't want his words to hurt me. Even though I can be a stubborn smartass, it doesn't mean I'm completely unaffected by shit. It means I'm strong and not easily swayed. I've always been boldly independent, even before my parents' accident. Losing them only made that more true, but it doesn't mean I'm not human. It doesn't mean I don't feel. I stayed just as quiet as Everett, maybe even more so because I don't think I moved an inch.

The events of the night shook me, and that's why I can't sleep now. The nap I had before the break-in doesn't help, but even knowing Everett is in the same house as me isn't settling my nerves. Throwing off the blankets, I head downstairs in search of comfort food. Popcorn and a chick flick might do the trick. Before I reach the kitchen, the light from Everett's office catches my eye. He's awake too. I contemplate walking down the hall to apologize, but I don't.

I've just finished popping my bowl of popcorn and pouring a glass of bourbon on the rocks with a brown sugar and sea salt rim. I'm not a huge fan of drinking by myself, but the alcohol serves two purposes at midnight: calming my nerves and helping me get some sleep before the morning. The second my ass hits the couch, and I look around the dimly lit space, I know settling down isn't going to be easy. I'm going to overanalyze every shadow and every creak. Standing, I decide to push aside my pride and walk to his office, but when I do, he's there, in the kitchen, with his back to me, staring blankly into the fridge.

I'm silent as my eyes linger on his dressed-down appearance. It's new. My entire life, he's been a suit-and-tie guy, immaculate—not a wrinkle to be seen or a single hair out of place. But since he's been home and helping out with the baseball team, his style has adapted. He's traded his tailored suits for Bermuda shorts and athletic polo shirts. It doesn't matter what he wears, he looks good in everything. But tonight's attire might be my all-time favorite: gray sweatpants and an all-white tee that stretches across his toned back in all the right places.

Turning with a bottle of sparkling water, his eyes collide with mine, and I suddenly feel naked. Sure, I've run around this house and flaunted my ass and tits in string bikinis for more summers than I can count, but something about the intensity in his stare now has me feeling vulnerable. I don't know what I see because I've never seen it, but I also can't look away. I can't find any words even though that's exactly what I was about to give him… words.

"Can't sleep?"

"No," I answer as I pull my satin robe around my camisole and sleep short set, a move that doesn't go unnoticed by him. We both had an intense night, and I know while his exterior says cool and collected, inside, like me, he's anything but. If I had it my way, he'd be storming across the room right now, sweeping me up in his arms and taking me to bed where we could work out our stress.

"I—" we both say simultaneously.

"Go ahead." I insist that he speaks first.

"No, that's not how it works. What were you about to say?"

"Before you came in here, I was about to ask if you wouldn't mind working in here tonight." I shrug and fidget with the lace of my satin robe. "I don't really want to be alone right now. I promise I won't bother you. I've already made popcorn and a drink, and I was?—"

He holds up his hand. "I'll grab my laptop. I think it's time we discuss that letter."