20. Cameron
Chapter 20
Cameron
I 've been downstairs for thirty minutes, and my nerves are getting the best of me. I pull at the high neck on my summer dress, trying to find relief that I know won't come because it's not the heat getting to me. It's him. Last night was the best night of my life. I've pinched myself twice, literally still unbelieving that any of it was real and not a dream. Not only did I find the strength to go to Everett's room. He let me stay. Waking up with him draped over me was heaven. For a few seconds, I got to bask in him and the night we shared. And then Moira happened. He darted out of bed faster than I could blink when he realized she was seconds from walking in on us. His reaction is what has me uneasy now. We didn't say much, and the things we did say felt honest, but part of me is wondering if they weren't just lust. Years of pent-up longing burst at the seams, and now the regrets we promised we wouldn't have are precisely that: regrets.
My phone pings, pulling me from my dejected thoughts.
Stormy: We'll be there in ten. FYI, his brother tagged along.
The way she says "his brother" instead of using his name has me on edge. Stormy's name precedes her. Nothing is black and white with her. She's the kind of person you should never take at face value, but maybe she forgot Parker's brother's name.
Cameron: Elijah?
I stare at my phone, waiting for bubbles to appear, and they don't, which only makes my anxiety that much worse. I blow out a tense breath and look out the back window. It's probably hot as hell outside but it looks nice, and sitting pool side with a cocktail sounds like a remedy to my current anxious hell. With my mind made up, I head outside and shoot Stormy another text.
Cameron: Come around back. I'm at the pool.
Digging through the fridge in the swim-up bar, I hear a horn double honk, which must mean Stormy has arrived. That definitely wasn't ten minutes, but I don't care. I need company, something to take my mind off the man inside who has yet to make an appearance. A stiff drink sounded good, but I reach for a pale ale instead. They have higher alcohol content, and since I won't be rocking a bikini today, I don't care if I get bloated from drinking beer.
The back gate opens, and Stormy walks in with three guys on her heels, none of whom are Parker. I recognize Nash right away. He's hard to miss wearing a leather jacket in the fucking summer heat. The guy behind him has to be his brother. They both have the same strong jawline and jet-black hair. And finally, I see Elijah. That's strange. Why would he come but not Parker? Unless Parker is still upset about everything that went down after the game. I would have thought getting his suspicions about Moira off his chest would have lifted a weight, but I know he's close to his dad. I understand wanting to protect his heart. However, it's not fair to blame Everett for Moira's infidelity if that is indeed what this is.
"Salt, where are you, girl?" Nash calls.
I hold up my beer, drawing their eyes toward the swim-up bar.
"Cameron, you've been holding out on me. You didn't tell me you had a private lagoon in your backyard," Stormy says, making it to the bar first.
"I don't, Everett does."
"Either way, I now see why you're not in a hurry to leave," she says as her eyes rake over the grotto. "What are we drinking?"
"Whatever you want. The bar is pretty stocked now that it's summer."
She nods before inspecting the refrigerator below and scanning the selections.
"Salt," Nash says, sliding past Stormy and pulling me in for a hug. "I missed you at the bar last night."
"The bar?"
"Yeah," Stormy answers. "Everyone went out for drinks last night to celebrate the win."
"You going to introduce me to your girl or what?"
My eyebrows shoot up. His girl? Nash is great, but we're just friends. A complication is the last thing I need right now. I'm just about to correct him when Nash releases me.
"I already told you. She's not my girl." With his arm around my shoulder, he says, "She was my backpack."
"Right," his brother mocks sardonically, leaving me to believe Nash must have said a little more than he's letting on for his brother to assume we are anything other than friends. Tall, dark, and handsome, steps forward, extends a hand, and says, "I'm Emmitt."
"Cameron," I say as I take his hand. Handshakes are a gesture I love, but they seem so nineteenth century anymore. Most guys greet you with a head nod now.
"So, it's not Salt?" his head tilts to the side.
"No, it is. My name is Cameron Salt. The guys at the fields usually call me Salt. You know, the whole athlete thing where everyone calls everyone else by their last names."
"I wouldn't know. I didn't play sports. I prefer the stage," he shrugs. "I like Salt better anyway."
"Yeah, why is that?"
He smiles, and the sexiest dimple appears, not two, just one, making it all the more alluring. "Everything is better with salt."
Stormy chuckles as she pops a beer. "Real smooth, Romeo."
"Hey now… I'd offer you some love too, but I already know you can't calm a storm." On that note, we all start laughing.
I hear the back door open, and my stomach feels queasy. It has to be Everett walking out. He's the only person that was inside. Moira left almost an hour ago now. After Everett left the room, I snuck back into mine. I showered and did my business before subtly cracking my door just enough so I wouldn't miss anything downstairs. I assume they went to his office because there was no eavesdropping to be scored, and then she showed herself out.
"Can you show me to the bathroom?" Stormy asks, and I nearly fly across the pool bar to kiss her, thankful for the interruption. Nash still has his arm around my shoulder, and while it feels lighthearted, it's not a look I want Everett to see.
"Yep," I link arms with her and head toward the pool house. The last thing I want to do is walk past Everett. I know avoidance is a shit response to dealing with anxiety. However, I'm also not ready to deal with whatever regret might be written on his face. At least by avoiding him, I can hope for a little longer that last night changed things for him the way they did me. That what we have is irrevocable. It's not something that can easily be discarded; it can't be ignored because we are the beginning and end. "Where's Parker?"
"He said he had something he needed to take care of… but I'm not sure I buy that. When we went out last night, something he needed to take care of today never came up. I think he feels shitty about the spot he put you in yesterday, and Everett currently isn't his favorite person, so that doesn't help."
I know Stormy says she and Parker aren't dating or hooking up, but I feel like she knows him well for someone who is doing none of those things. Parker wears his heart on his sleeve, but it feels like they have more late-night phone calls or hangouts than she lets on.
"And what about you? I still don't see how you're not a little pissed off at either of us," I say as I pull open the door of the pool house.
"I mean, maybe if I hadn't known about the fake wedding date incident the two of you shared, I'd feel some type of way, but honestly, after getting to know both of you, I don't see anything but really good friends…" She trails off, releasing my arm and staring up at the exposed wood beam ceiling. "Damn, this is just the pool house? It's hella nice. If I were in your shoes, I'd claim this place for my own."
I don't say anything. I've never really given much thought to staying in any other part of the house, or the property, for that matter. I have a nice room, and if I want to use any other part of the house, I can. But moving out here would only put me further away from Everett.
"The bathroom is around the corner to your left."
She flops onto one of the oversized chairs. "Oh, I don't have to pee. I could tell Nash was making you uncomfortable."
I take a drink of my beer and sit on the loveseat opposite her. "Is Lauren coming? I know she mentioned coming with you yesterday at the game."
"She was right behind us. Parker was supposed to pick me up at the house. Instead, Elijah showed up in his place with Nash and Emmitt.”
I feel like she's not telling me something. It sounds strange that Parker would cancel and send Elijah and his friends in his place to pick up Stormy, especially given I know he's into Stormy. Not to mention, I find it odd that Stormy would entertain the three of them without Parker. Something doesn't fit, but the last thing I need is more drama on my plate. So I keep my mouth shut.
"What are you guys doing in here? Come on." Elijah startles us, pulling open the door.
I know he's been going through some stuff after his breakup with his longtime girlfriend. Everyone thought they would get married, but then he broke her heart. He's probably down for anything to keep his mind off her, and that is something I can relate to right now.
"We're coming," I say, vacating the chair. "Did you want to grab a swimsuit? It's hot out today, and I'm not sure overalls are exactly poolside attire."
"Maybe not a swimsuit. They're not really my thing but shorts I can do."
We've barely made it two steps outside the pool house when Nash swoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. At the same time, I see Elijah surprise Stormy from behind.
"Nash, put me down," I say, still trying to hold my beer until he starts running, and I toss it to pound on his back. "Nash, I'm serious."
"Cry me a river, backpack. It's time to get wet." My protests are silenced a second later as we're plunged into the pool's deep end. I hold my breath as the refreshing embrace of the cold water envelops me. Being thrown into the pool was the last thing I wanted, but as I sink to the bottom, the chill invigorates me. It's just the right amount of crazy I needed to find my voice instead of trying to hide behind my fear. A hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me up to the surface right before two hands circle around my waist, and Nash is there. "Don't tell me you can't swim because then I'm going to feel like an ass."
I wipe the water out of my eyes, grateful I wore waterproof mascara today. "I can swim. Sitting at the bottom of the pool was an act of goodwill."
His pouty lips purse, and his eyes narrow. "Goodwill?"
"Yeah." I push his arms off my waist before quickly placing my hands on top of his head and adding, "Now you're going down." Once he's under, I push off his shoulders with my feet and get a head start toward the shallow section.
"Hey, get back here." I feel him right on my heels. He's one stroke away from being able to grab my ankle. That's when I see Elijah pulling Stormy to the pool's edge, and I'm caught. When Nash realizes I'm not fighting to get away, his gaze follows the direction of mine.
"I should probably make sure she's okay." He nods and pulls me with him into the shallow water in one swoop so we can walk out. His hand slips down my back as we walk out of the pool. At the same time, my eyes find Everett sitting in an Adirondack chair in front of me. While his sunglasses hide his eyes, his clenched jaw tells me he doesn't like what he just witnessed. Good. Neither did I, but he's not doing anything about it either, and doesn't that say something? I drop his gaze like I never met it all and walk to the towel box. When I flip open the lid, Nash reaches around me, pulls out a towel, and drapes it over my shoulders before grabbing one for himself. No sooner than I turn around to take one to Stormy, she's at my side, pulling one out for herself. "Come on, let's get some dry clothes."
S tormy was fine; she could swim. However, she didn't give many more details than that because, let's be real, it's Stormy. From what I gathered from the few things she did share, Elijah's move caused some sort of PTSD moment for her. She was embarrassed by her reaction. Once, I got her some dry clothes, and she had a minute to collect herself. I tried to reassure her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, but sometimes, the weight of our self-consciousness can't be avoided.
While she dressed in the bathroom, I selected a high-necked romper and pulled my hair into a tight bun. I was going to check my makeup, but since Stormy is in my ensuite, I forgo waiting. I don't want her to feel rushed, and my makeup isn't an emergency. I left my purse downstairs last night, and it has my to-go makeup case inside. I take one last look around my room, making sure I'm not forgetting anything, only to pull open the door and forget how to breathe. Everett's standing there, his hand positioned to knock, his expression worn.
We stand there for long seconds, drinking each other in, the events of last night flicking through my mind like a highlight reel featuring the best moments of my life.
His brow pinches as he drops his hand. "Hi," is all that comes out.
"Hi," I roll my lips and try to bring my mind to focus on the here and now.
"Are you okay?"
"I got wet. We both know I can swim. I'm fine," I answer, blinking away the fog.
"I'm surprised you didn't opt to put a swimsuit on."
I step outside and close my door behind me. Crossing my arms, I say, "Yeah, well, I can't really wear a swimsuit today."
He rubs his chin. The faintest hint of satisfaction appears before he asks, "Why is that?"
"Did you really come up here to ask me about my clothing choices?" His lips thin, and his pause grates on my nerves. I'm too vulnerable for his games. "Never mind," I huff as I step around him. I need to put some space between him and me so I can breathe. I can't think straight when I'm smelling him, and every time I look at him, all I see are the eyes that looked at me with complete adoration last night as his mouth explored every inch of my body.
"So, you're mad then?" he says right before I reach the top step.
I turn to him, hand firmly gripping the rail. "Mad?"
"Anger is momentary madness, anger I can fix, anger I can live with but regret…" He pulls in a stuttered breath.
"Am I mad? Yes, but I'm mad because you matter, and I hate feeling like I don't. I told you last night I wouldn't regret you in the morning. That hasn't changed and?—"
He's in front of me, backing me against the wall before I can finish. "You matter. You matter more than anything ever has." My heart skips a thousand beats as his words, his touch, the move, all speak directly to my heart. His hand slowly snakes up and around the base of my neck, and he presses his forehead to mine. "I want to kiss you."
"You never have to ask––" His lips smash against mine, and I feel like he's kissing me for the first time all over again. I'm nervous, happy, excited, and dizzy all at once. I melt into his hold as his tongue explores my mouth, and my brain turns to mush. It's utterly pathetic, given how I was mad seconds ago. The faint sound of my bathroom door opening has his lips leaving mine as he pulls me into one of the guest bedrooms.
"You left," he pants, chest heaving.
"What?" I question, my eyes darting between his as I try to keep up.
"When I came back to my room, you were gone."
"I didn't realize you wanted me to stay."
"What gave you the impression there was anywhere else I wanted you to be?"
I step back, putting some needed space between us. "Oh, I don't know. You jumped out of bed like the house was on fire when you heard your ex-wife walking up the steps."
"You pulled the covers over your head to shield yourself," he challenges, pinching the bridge of his nose. His reaction has me questioning my own. "Last night was our first night together, Cameron. We were occupied doing a lot of things that didn't include talking. What did you expect?"
I see now what I didn't in the haste of our rude awakening. We're clearly both emotionally strung out, unsure where the other stands and what's next. I'd like to start with the future first, so I say, "First, you didn't say last."
"I know what I said. It doesn't mean it's what should happen. Cameron, I will never regret last night, but I will regret hurting you."
This time, I'm the one who makes the first move; taking a step toward him, I wrap my arms around his waist. "Then don't."
He growls, and the confliction in the vibration is palpable. "It's not that simple. This morning was a perfect example of that. There are more reasons we don't work, can't work, than that we do, and I don't care to destroy your reputation while you figure that out."
"I disagree. You're older, so what? I could list ten celebrity age gaps just like ours right now."
A small smile splays across his face. "I bet you could." The back of his knuckles rake over my cheek. "But it's not just the age gap, Cameron. It's your father, our family, my career, all of it."
"I thought we went over this last night before you defiled me. My father would want me to be happy. You make me happy. As for your career, I'll gladly sell my shares equally to you and your brothers. We both know I don't need it." I drop my gaze to his chest to find my words. "I'm no match when it comes to Connor. I would never want to come between the two of you. I wouldn't expect that of you, but the Connor I know would have an open heart, just like his father, and I think if he saw that being with me made you happy, he'd want that for you." I risk finding his eyes once again. "What are we living for if not a happy life with the people who make it worth living?" My hand caresses his cheek. "You're one of those people for me."
His eyes soften before his mouth is once again on mine as his hands eagerly glide down my back and grip my ass, squeezing hard before lifting me up and pinning me to the wall. "You're determined to shatter my resolve."
I grind myself against his hardening length. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"
"It means I'm not saying no."
"Everett," the sound of Colton's voice ringing out from the foyer pulls Everett's mouth away from mine as we hear the front door close.
"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters, chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline I know is coursing through his veins, same as me. "I'll be down in just a second," he calls out. His eyes land on mine, and I can see he has a million things he wants to say, but he doesn't have the time. "Can this be ours for now?"
He's not asking me this lightly. He took his time choosing those words because what he's really asking is will I be his secret. I should say no. The rational side of my brain knows I deserve to be loved out loud, but damn if being his dirty little secret doesn't feel good. And because I'm a betting a girl, I will make a wager on us. I believe in what we have, and while it might be painful now, I'll love that pain because, eventually, he'll have to trace a line back. All secrets have an expiration date.
A whispered yes falls from my mouth before he takes my lips in his once more and sets me down. "I'll see you downstairs."