11. Everett
Chapter 11
Everett
I 've been poolside alone for almost three hours, which is something I didn't expect. I came out here because I couldn't stand being inside. It didn't matter where I went in the house; if I didn't see her, I smelled her, and when I wasn't smelling her, I could hear her, and fuck if all three weren't a lethal combination. Coming outside offered me a small reprieve. As it turns out, I don't like her here, but I hate her gone. When she decided to stay at Connor's, it practically killed me.
Before she left, I thought her absence would be the answer, but it was only wishful thinking on my part. I was gone for months. If time and distance didn't manage to cure my sick heart from wanting what it can't have then, I'm not sure why I thought her living a few miles away would. But that's what we do when we're infected. We frantically try to search for a cure to heal us of our affliction. The problem is, I know there is no cure. She is poison in my veins… but fuck if it isn't everything. Life is hard, we are all cursed, and nothing worth having ever comes easy unless it has a hefty price tag, one that usually costs you a pound of flesh and your soul. But I'm starting to understand why people make deals with the devil. A pound of flesh and an empty soul seem like a fair trade to feel alive.
The back door opening draws my eyes to her, and I'm half surprised she's not prancing out here in one of her thong bikinis to taunt me. After we ate breakfast together yesterday, I worked in my office and she went to her room, where she has been ever since, only leaving to grab snacks.
Marching up to my lounger, she sits on the end and says, "I'm hungry."
"Is there a reason you bypassed the kitchen to come out here and share that with me?"
She rolls her eyes, and my finger involuntarily twitches on the keyboard of my laptop.
"Um, yeah, it's almost dinner time, and yesterday you said you would teach me how to cook. Why not now?"
The wind picks up, and I instantly smell roses. The smell I've been running from all day. My mouth ran away with my good sense yesterday when I offered to teach her how to cook. The last thing I need to do is offer to share more space and time with her when I know she's my kryptonite.
"I have a few more emails I need to send out. Tomorrow is a big day at the stadium. All the managers will be on-site to start training crew members. If you're really hungry, maybe order us some takeout."
"I can wait," she says with a shrug before standing and unsnapping the buttons that run down the center of her denim dress, unveiling her white thong bikini. "I could use a little vitamin D after being in the house all weekend." Then, walking around to the other side of my lounger, she flips open the top on the storage table next to me, pulls out a bottle of sunscreen, and sits down on my chair before asking. "Can you put some of this on my shoulders? I don't want to burn before I get a base tan."
"Cameron, I am not rubbing lotion on you."
"Why not?" she says, pulling her hair over to one side and exposing her bare shoulders to me.
Answering that question is an admission I don't want to give. She already holds enough power without knowing how deeply she affects me. Considering her request is a misstep and poor judgment on my part, but taking the bottle out of her hand is definitely a bad decision. Closing my laptop, I set it on the table beside me before wordlessly flipping open the cap. When my palms meet her shoulders, I hear her pull in a sharp intake of breath.
"Sorry, I didn't think it was cold."
When she shakes her head, I know the words she doesn't say: "It's not the sunscreen." I can see the goosebumps running down her arms. It's eighty degrees outside. She's not cold. I couldn't tell you the last time I applied sunscreen. Hell, I'm not sure I ever have, at least not to another person. I overestimated the amount I would need. My hands effortlessly glide over her soft skin, quickly coating her shoulders. The last thing I want to do is pull away when my hands feel like they were made for touching her. I take liberties and allow my hands to drift further down her spine. After all, I'm nothing if not thorough. Her shoulders aren't the only part of her that could burn. When I reach the string that wraps around her back, I dip my fingers beneath and run them along its length. There's a slight tremble in my hand as I find the strength to abandon the string when all I really want to do is pull it. However, the farther I let my hands drift down her back, the more pulling that string might have been the better option.
My eyes can't help but follow the descent of my hands, and the lower they drop, the more I see of her. The ass she dares to tease me with every chance she gets is on display, looking like a fucking Christmas present with the white string running between her thick cheeks. My cock twitches, now completely hard, as my hands dig into her hips, and she hisses, a sound that should trigger my release, but my hands don't move. If anything, they squeeze harder. Her head turns, and those crystal blue eyes connect with mine, and what feels like a lifetime of unspoken desires are shared. I want nothing more than to pull her into my lap and feel her. I want to touch her in a way I shouldn't, and what's worse, the look in her eyes tells me she wants the exact same thing.
Those pouty pink lips part, and my name is unexpectedly said in unison. "Everett."
Our eyes snap toward the intruding voice as I pull my hands away quickly, searching for my laptop to cover the shameful issue I now have. Fucking hell, I knew I shouldn't have disarmed the alarm for the cleaning lady. As Colton crosses the yard to join us, I ask, "Do you mind giving us some privacy?"
Cameron's back is to me when she nods her agreement. I pull my sunglasses back down over my eyes as she reaches for her discarded dress, but even the tint can't hide the flush on her cheeks. I might be hard, but I guarantee her pussy is wet. A pussy I have no business wanting but it makes my cock grow harder all the same, and when she stands, putting her peach of an ass inches away from my face, I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Christ.
"Did you get my text?" Colton asks, walking up to my lounge chair with his hands on his hips.
Cameron's exit buys me a few seconds when she says, "Hi, Cole," in greeting, allowing me to quickly bring my laptop to life and pull up my messages. If he texted me, it must have been in the last few minutes while my hands were wrapped up in her.
"Salt." He pulls her in for a quick hug. "Are you still seeing Michaelson, or have you already found your next victim?"
"Haha, hilarious Cole. You're one to talk, Mr. Stag—or—die. Maybe I'm destined to be an eternal bachelor like you." She swats his chest before taking her leave.
He crosses his arms and purses his lips. He knows she's right. The man is in his thirties and has never been seen with the same girl more than twice. Like me, he's a workaholic, but deep down, I know there's more to his single status than he lets on. We are too alike for there not to be, both driven by honor and pride, both loyal to a fault. I may not have always made the choices I wanted, but at least they gave me a son. Out of all my regrets, things I wish I would have done differently, he has never been one of them.
Colton's eyes flash to mine as his thumb dusts his bottom lip. "Are you fucking, Salt?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," I say as I clench my jaw in annoyance. I shouldn't have fucking touched her. If I hadn't touched her, I wouldn't be receiving his plaint now.
He takes a seat on the lounge next to mine. "Are we going to act like I didn't just witness you rubbing sunscreen all over her back? We both know that's not innocent, Everett. Not to mention the swimsuit she's wearing may as well be underwear."
"Why are you here, Colton? Did you find Kelce?"
"Maybe," he answers, unconcerned, like his visit is just another day when we both know it's not. Colton lives in Boston. He doesn't just casually drop by, and the last message I sent him was, "Find Kelce." Tongue in cheek, he says, "Your avoidance reeks of guilt."
"I would disagree. I've known Cameron her entire life, and I refuse to give legs to a rumor like that. In jest or not, that type of gossip is toxic and only serves to disrespect a member of this family."
"Dear brother, Cameron Salt is not our family—that is," He rubs his jaw, "Unless you are planning to make it so." I'm out of my chair before my mind can think better of it, and if he wasn't certain before, I know he is now. Standing toe to toe, he says, "You just gave yourself away. Quick to anger and extremely anxious."
"We're not fucking," I grit out as I try to calm the rage boiling inside of me. I don't want anyone to think differently of her because of me, and it's already happening. She doesn't deserve that dark cloud.
"Fine. You're not fucking…" He licks his bottom lip. "But you want to." I drop my head and put my hands on my hips to rein in my anger. I don't care to come to blows over this with my brother. What's fucked up is I shouldn't care this much. This entire altercation shouldn't even be happening. "Look, Everett, I didn't come here to judge where you get your dick wet. You're both adults. If Salt were walking around my house looking like that, I'd be doing more than rubbing sunscreen on her back."
Those words do nothing to calm my nerves. The thought of him touching her only makes everything worse because, if he were to touch her, it would be better than me. Colton is fifteen years younger than me. He was a surprise to everyone after our parents thought they were done having kids. He and Cameron could make sense. And age aside, she's not his best friend's daughter or the kid who moved into his house at seventeen.
"Fucking drop it, Cole. What did you find out?"
He holds up his hands. "Consider it dropped, but in all seriousness, if you were sleeping with her, you might already have the answer to that question. Your girl knows exactly where her brother is?—"
"She's not my girl, and he's not her brother," I interrupt.
"Yeah, yeah," he waves his hand. "Cameron's been keeping tabs on him, the same as you. The only difference is that when she found out he was broke, she took a visit to see him."
"When?" I ask, taken aback by his claim. I always keep tabs on her so I would know if she left.
"While you were in Boston. She took a quick day trip to visit him in Maine."
"He's in Maine?" I look toward the house just in time to catch one of the basement sheers move. She knew. The entire conversation, she knew and she lied to me.
"He's been living there for about six months, working as a crab fisherman, and that's why we couldn't find him. He was on a boat."
"You're telling me Kelce, spawn of Amelia Balian, is working a laborer's job as a fisherman?"
"Yep, he's been living with his bio dad's brother. Even though it's not Kelce, I wouldn't let her leave. We know Damon had skeletons. This could all be an ill-timed break-in, or it could be something else. I have a few theories. I was going to head over to Connor's now and see if I can't scratch one off my list."
"I want your theories, but first, I need to see a girl about a lie. Don't leave town before we talk."
" Y ou lied to me. Why would you lie to me?" I demand, closing the back door harder than intended.
"I didn't lie to you. You heard what you wanted to hear," she answers from behind the bar as she pours a glass of vodka and seltzer water with lime.
"I asked you what your father said in his letter, and I specifically asked you about Kelce."
"You're right. You asked me what the letter said, and I told you. You didn't ask me what I did with that information after I read the letter. Because you still think of me as a child, you treat me with kid gloves. If you continue to think of me like an orphaned teen, you'll come up short every time. It happened, it hurt, but it isn't who I am."
I stalk over to the bar, half tempted to smack her ass for lying to me, only to think better of it once I'm right in front of her. She'd like it too much, and doing so would only hurt me. I have to stop taking liberties. Every time I do, the line between right and wrong moves, and I find myself drowning in my regrets, torn between what I have and what I want.
Instead, I take her drink. "If you want me to see you as an adult, stop acting like a child." I take a heady sip before adding, "You should have told me about Kelce. Your safety is paramount."
She snatches her glass back, drawing my attention to her mouth as she takes a long, slow drink. "I didn't think I needed to tell you things you already knew." Sliding the glass toward me, she crosses her arms. "My father was a good man. Whether he died believing it to be true or not, doesn't change that. Besides, Kelce was never the person anyone needed to fear. That person sank to the bottom of the Mississippi with him."
I slam my eyes closed as I try to push out the memories of the night I lost my best friend. I don't need any reminders to pull me away from the now. That night and all the what-ifs surrounding it have haunted my every dream since that fateful accident.
"What does that mean, Cameron?"
"It's no secret my parents had a loveless marriage, and I think Kelce was one of the reasons for it. When I went to Maine to visit him, I never met with him. Don't get me wrong, I planned on it, but when I pulled up to the fishery, I found him working, and something stilled my hand. I didn't get out of the car. Instead, I sat and watched, and as I did, I reflected on our life together. I went there with a lot of assumptions. They were easy enough to make over the years, the sense of entitlement he seemed to wear like a badge of honor, the money he'd blow through, his arrogance. He painted a picture that would easily lead you to believe him to be a suspect in the break-in, but as I sat there with my own pain, I realized something. I was judging his. Who am I to judge pain I haven't experienced?"
"You both lost parents in the accident. You have the same pain."
She pulls in a frustrated breath like I should know what she's getting at. I think I do, but assuming things with her is off the table. "When I tracked Kelce down to Maine and the address he was staying at, I Googled the homeowner. It was a name I'd never heard of. I knew it wasn't any family of mine, but it was obvious Kelce was family. The genetics on that side are strong. The guy he was living with could have been a dead ringer for his father, and that's when it hit me. Kelce knew. I can't be sure when he found out, but he knew Damon wasn't his father, and I think he acted out because of it." Picking up the drink, she shoved at me, she downs the glass. "Everyone knows there was no love lost between our parents. Kelce and I weren't immune to that fact just because we grew up witnessing it. I think Kelce figured out the truth somewhere along the line and resented both of them for it."
Standing here listening to the amount of thought she's clearly put into this, my anger wanes, but my curiosity doesn't. "You put all that together just by watching him? Damon left nothing in his letter that would lean into those conclusions?"
Her eyes narrow on mine. "Are my thoughts really that farfetched? I thought you, out of all people, would relate to living a lie, being what other people wanted you to be instead of who you want to be. Who you are." I rub the space between my eyes. She sees so much of me. I wish she would see that I keep things close to my heart to protect hers. "Just forget it, Everett. I'm done talking. When you are ready to have a real conversation, you know, one where you exchange ideas, thoughts, and feelings without shrewdness... you know where to find me."
She quickly turns on her heel to leave, and my hand hurriedly grasps the loop on the back of her denim dress. "That is precisely what I am trying to do." I spin her around, and her mouth pops open in shock. "You want real? Fine. Your father's death hasn't been easy on me either, Cameron. But I've never wanted you to feel an ounce of hurt. If you believe protecting your heart makes me the enemy, so be it. With his death, I was left with more questions than answers. I don't know everything, which is why I asked the questions I did last night..." I release her and drop my hands to my hips. Do I know more than I'm letting on? Yes, but I wasn't lying when I said I don't know everything and I don't want to speak on theories. Does that make me a liar? Some might see it that way. Secrets and lies are both deceptions, but as a lawyer, I know there is a gray area. Not every detail is necessary for accuracy. Like her, I also keep things close to my chest. Everyone does. Some are just bigger than others. I need to know what she does, so I try again, and I'm softer this time. "It's why I'm asking now."
Pulling in a sorrowful breath, she says, "I just gave you my truth. That's all I know. Kelce doesn't want money. He never did. I believe he hates it and everything it represents. With their death, he was free of it. He was free of being Mom's pawn, another reason for Dad to stay when he didn't want to. Maybe when you're done walking through the hurt of my father's death alone, maybe I can love the lonely out of you and numb the pain. Maybe if you let me in instead of saving me, we can save each other."
Her words hit deep. I'm not used to someone looking after me and caring about how the choices I make don't come lightly; they wear on me too. It's why, this time when she drops her gaze as I once again give her no words, I let her go. I learned a lot tonight. She gave me an angle I hadn't considered because she's right about sharing our pain; our grief is visceral, and in choosing to hold onto mine, I've managed to tie one hand behind my back. Rather than letting her in and allowing her to think through the riddles he dropped at my feet with his last breaths, I suffer alone. She wants to save me, but I'm not meant to be saved. My job is to keep her safe.