17. Everett
Chapter 17
Everett
I didn't like it when Cameron told me this morning she was going out with Stormy for her birthday. Not just because I'm selfish and wanted her here with me but because I don't trust Lauren, and Stormy, blood or not, is an extension of her. After I had dinner with Lauren and she shared her reasoning for being back in town, I called Garrett. He still won't tell me what his hunch is, and it's driving me fucking crazy, but because I know it has something to do with her, I gave him everything. I would have told him all of it anyway. There's not much I haven't shared with my brothers since we started Callahan she has a perfectly round ass, thick without being too muscular. It's the kind of butt you want to sink your teeth into, literally. When I see her hand snake up between her thighs to push the dildo back in, I press the button, and at this new angle, I can see her clench around the toy. "Are you still thinking about me?"
"Always… fuck me, Ev."
"If I were behind you, my hands would be digging into your hips as I pulled you back on my cock, thrust after thrust, ripping those intoxicating mewls from your pretty mouth." Her hips instinctively begin to rock, controlling the pace instead of her hand as she pushes back on the dildo. My own strokes follow suit, mimicking hers, as though I was indeed behind her, pleasuring her just the way she likes it.
"Everett, I'm not going to last," she moans. I let off the button on my remote, not wanting this to end, but it's her hurried pace as she rocks back on the dildo in shorter, faster thrusts that has my hand doing the same. She's chasing her release, and fuck if I don't want her to have it. "Come with me, Ev. Please…" Her hand fists in her comforter, and her cheeks tense as her orgasm takes hold. "Ev… Mmm, so good…" she draws out.
Her words send me over the edge as warm cum coats my hand. "Fuck…" I grind out as I catch my breath. There will be no getting over Cameron Salt. I'm fucking lying to myself to say otherwise. This is now the second time I've come in my hand because of her, and there's not a time in my life that I can recall having a better orgasm. How fucked is that?
"Did you come with me, Ev?" she asks softly as she tries to regulate her own breaths.
"Yeah, sunshine. I did."
She rolls over, pulling a throw blanket with her as she covers herself before saying, "Thanks for the birthday present."
Before I can respond, she presses a button on her phone, and the screen goes black. My head sinks back into the pillow, and I close my eyes. "I'm so fucked."
I t's been a week. One week of torture, one week of pure hell. I've barely seen Cameron since the night of her birthday. The next morning, when I came down for work, she was in the kitchen looking more beautiful than I'd ever seen her before. Every day I see her, I swear I see her more. I see things I didn't know I was missing. I've been staring at her for years, but somehow, I missed the scattering of freckles on her left shoulder that resemble the little dipper, the way she brushes her hair behind her ear when she's nervous, and maybe most of all, the way she always gives me her full attention when I'm talking to her. It's the last one I think I've always noticed, but I took it for granted, and now I hate it. I hate it because she hasn't looked me in the eye once, not since I told her no.
One week ago, as she stood at the refrigerator filling her tumbler with water, our eyes connected for the first time since our shared release. My feet instantly brought me to her side, where I found my hands cradling her face, her mouth inches away from mine. I saw everything I wanted reflected in her crystal blue eyes. She wanted the same things, and I wanted to pretend a little longer that I could be the man to give them to her; that I wasn't the man that would ruin her, wasn't the man that would break her heart with ugly truths and things we can't change, but I didn't. Instead, I let her go.
Her hand reached out for mine as I released her, and her bright eyes pleaded with mine as she said, "Please, Ev. I want this. I want you to touch me."
"I can't. You don't know what you're asking."
Those were the last words I gave her. We haven't talked since, and it's tearing me up. My hand rested on her doorknob almost every night as I stood outside her door and battled with myself over all the things I wanted to say, only to settle for walking away because letting her believe her own assumptions are better than the truth I have. She doesn't understand that not all stories need to be told. They don't all have happy endings. She wants to keep me but doesn't understand this is the only way she can.
"Hey, do you have a minute?" Lauren says as she pushes open the door to my office with a knock.
"Most people knock before entering, Lauren," I say without glancing up from my computer. She's the last person I care to entertain right now.
"Nice to see you too, Everett. I had to make a change to the last tournament. The coach from UA couldn't make it until Friday night. I moved the schedule around so that the Bulldogs would be the first game he sees."
Damn it. That's a good call, one that requires I at least be cordial. "I'm assuming that's not all you came up here to talk about since a schedule change can easily be communicated via email."
She walks across the room and stands beside the window. "No, it's not. What I want to talk about is personal."
I take off my blue-light glasses and spin my chair toward her. Lauren coming to me with something personal feels out of place, which is more reason to listen. "I'm listening."
"Mind sharing some of that liquid courage?" she asks as she nods to the cognac on the shelf behind me.
"Sure," I say as I spin around to grab the bottle and pour two glasses. After the glasses are poured, I turn back around. "I don't have any ice. Hope you don't mind it neat…" My words die off a little when I realize how close she's moved. While I poured the glasses, she crossed the room and found her seat on the corner of my desk. Lauren has always been attractive, and that hasn't changed with age, but she's not my type. I hand her the glass I poured and take a long drink before reclaiming my chair. "Well…" I gesture with my hand for her to start.
"Do you remember Jenny Busch's wedding?"
"Yes," I lean back in my chair. "That was over twenty years ago, but I vaguely remember."
Jenny Busch's wedding was the talk of the town. A small-town girl marrying into a dynasty. It's all anyone could talk about for months, made worse by the fact that she convinced her soon-to-be husband to have it here in Waterloo. What started out as a small wedding soon encompassed the whole town. I am trying to remember why I got invited.
"Do you remember Ramsey, Granger, and Amber?"
"I do, they were hanging out with Damon that night."
She nods and takes another sip of cognac, holding it in her mouth and letting the flavors marinate before swallowing hard. "Do you remember who Amelia was hanging out with that night?"
"I don't know. That was a long time ago," I say as I close my eyes and try to remember details from the wedding. I remember that night being one of the last nights everyone hung out before Damon moved out to the East Coast. We graduated that summer, and he was getting his master's at Cornell. I pinch the bridge of my nose, and that's when I remember seeing Amelia sitting in a corner talking to Brady Busch. Damon was pissed. Rightfully so, he did marry a gold digger, but I don't know where Lauren's going with this walk down memory lane. "What parts specifically are you trying to get me to remember?"
"I just want to know what that night looked like for you because, for me, it looked a lot different. That night changed?—"
"Hey, Everett…" Cameron steps around the corner only to step back when she sees Lauren sitting on my desk. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had someone up here. I'll come back?—"
"No," I say a little louder than intended as I rise from my chair. "Lauren was just leaving."
Cameron's eyes flick between us, and I'm sure she sees my bluff. Lauren was right in the middle of trying to tell me something, but I'm not about to let the woman I can't get off my mind walk away from me again. When I turn to Lauren, she raises her eyebrows at me, her expression now as equally offended as it is intrigued.
"Right, well, maybe I can stop by later, and we can finish our conversation." I don't correct her. Instead, I clench my jaw, intent on not showing more cards than I already have. Lauren was here to tell me something, but the way she sat on my desk and attempted to take a walk down memory lane with me suggests maybe she has other ideas about us. While I don't care to entertain those, I don't entirely want to push her away, especially since Garrett is still sniffing around her trail. He wouldn't blindly follow a trail without good cause. Stopping in front of Cameron, she puts her hand on her hip and asks, "Hey, is Stormy picking you up for the away game on Saturday?"
"Yep," she answers as she rubs her thumb over the top of her forefinger. It's her tell. She's lying.
"Okay, well, maybe I'll tag along. I should probably go to one of the games since I work here." Her gaze flicks back to mine, and she gives me a once-over before finally taking her leave.
Once I hear her heels click down the stairs, I say, "Close the door."
"Oh, I didn't plan on staying. I just came up?—"
"Close the door, Cameron."
"Fine," she fumes as she shuts the door. When she turns her gaze back on me, it's only a moment before she focuses her attention out the window.
"You lied just now. Why?"
"No, I didn't." She rolls her eyes. "Or I don't know that I did. Stormy has a way of making plans for us and letting me know at the last minute."
"You've been avoiding me," I say as I walk around my desk and lean against the front.
She crosses her arms. "Didn't realize you cared."
"We both know that's bullshit."
"Do we? You said we were trying. You asked me to have dinner with you and made 'Marry Me Chicken.' Then, on my birthday, we shared something, Everett. You may not have been inside of me that night, but we both know your words were. I know you want me, Everett, and you're scared, but I don't understand it. Help me understand it. Tell me why your answer is no when we both know you want it to be yes." Admittedly, my reasons for saying no are getting harder to hold onto, but that's only served as more of a reason to push her away rather than pull her close. My softening to the idea doesn't erase its perversion. When I take too long to respond, she asks, "Is it because of my dad?"
I grip the side of my desk and drop my gaze. "Yeah, Cameron, he's a big part of it. He was my best friend, and I doubt he'd be okay with me defiling his daughter if he were still here."
"I disagree. He'd want to see the two people he loved happy."
"What if I can't make you happy?"
"What if you're my soulmate?" she takes a step toward me.
"You think I'm your soulmate?" I hold my breath as my stupid heart beats out of rhythm, waiting for her response.
Closing the space between us, her wedge nudges my boot before she says, "You tell me. How's walking away been going for you?"
My arm is pulling her against my front before my mind can argue. She stumbles on her wedges and braces herself on my chest, her hands instantly burning scars onto my soul. Her touch feels too good, and when her big blue eyes land on mine, I'm a goner. Leaning my forehead to hers, I warn, "We can't come back from this, Cameron. I can't erase something like this."
Her tongue darts out, moistening her lips. "Promise?" My free hand slides up the side of her neck before twisting into her auburn locks as my lips skim over the top of hers, and it's already the best kiss I've ever had. "Please," she pleads as her hand twists in my shirt, dissolving my willpower.
My mouth crashes to hers, and it feels like I am breathing for the first time. All the weight that's been sitting on my chest for years is lifted as her soft lips mold against mine. Everything, the anxiety, the fear, the fog, it's all gone. Replaced with only her. My tongue dips inside her sweet mouth, and we both let out soul-deep moans of rapture. I've never shared a kiss like this in my forty-six years, one where the person I'm kissing wants me just as much. Don't get me wrong, I've shared lust, but this is more than that. Lust seeks physical pleasure, and while I want that too, I want what's wrapped in this moment more. I want the emotional well-being and the person tied to the other end of it. I want the long-lasting fulfillment that only comes from a more profound place.
Her hands slide up my chest and wrap around the base of my neck, setting off a tingling sensation that racks my body with awareness. She owns me. Every piece. The hand I had rested on her hip slowly reaches around to finally cop a feel of her perfect ass just as my cell phone rings. Fuck.
I pull back, and she moans in protest. "Don't answer it… Stay with me."
"That's Connor's ringtone," I say as I brush my thumb across her cheek, my eyes full of apology.
Her brows furrow as she steps back and drops her gaze to the floor. Damn it.
"One second," I say as I answer the phone. Connor rarely calls, so if he's calling, it must be important, but so is Cameron. "Cam?—"
"It's fine, Everett. I didn't come up here to stay anyway." Tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear, she heads toward the door, and I fucking hate it. Leaving is the last thing I want. Then, when she reaches the door, she says, "I was only stopping by to let you know I won't be home tonight. You have time."
I have time. What the hell does that mean? What does she mean she won't be home tonight?
"Cameron, wait." Her big blue eyes pierce mine before they drop to the phone in my hand, reminding me of why she's walking away to begin with. My hand tightens around the phone, and my heart wholly divides. She gives me a soft smile, and then she disappears around the corner.
She's not making me choose. I know she would never do that. So why does it feel like I have to?