15. Decker
“You’re a coward.”
My phone glows with another missed call from Juniper, but I can’t bring myself to answer it. I’m not even man enough to text her and apologize for standing her up. Instead, I stay as late as I can justify at work.
The smell of enchiladas hits me before I even get out of my truck, and my stomach rumbles. I barely ate today, my knotted stomach making it impossible. I’m exhausted—ready to eat, take a shower, and climb into bed. But I know that won’t be the case.
“I hope you’re hungry.” Cami comes around the corner with a small grin on her face, her dark curls piled high on her head.
“Very.” I take a seat to remove my boots, offering a smile back, but we both know it’s forced. Something that once felt so natural between us is now awkward. It feels both depressing and relieving at the same time. She leans against the doorway, asking me about my day, like the last however many months didn’t happen. I offer clipped answers, unsure of how I’m supposed to be feeling or thinking in all of this.
“I hope it’s okay that I made dinner. It was actually done about two hours ago, but I’ve left it warming in the oven. They’re steak enchiladas with the salsa verde you always liked.”
“Thank you,” I stand up from the bench, “you don’t—you didn’t need to do that, Cami.”
“You know I love to cook,” she holds out her hand toward me, “especially for the people I care about.”
I stare into her eyes and they search mine desperately, like she’s looking for any shred of hope that what we had isn’t completely gone. I take her hand and walk into the kitchen, pulling out her chair before turning to take a seat. She dishes out the enchiladas in silence, my stomach growling again once I see the pool of melted cheese stretch and pull.
She takes a bite and moans around her fork, followed by a little giggle after she swallows the bite. “I have to confess that I always loved when you requested these. They’re so indulgent that I never make them just for myself.” I bring a forkful to my mouth and chew. My once-favorite dinner is now tasting bitter. “Justine gave me a secret tip to make the steak extra tender and moist.”
Camilla launches into another story, her voice beginning to fade as I picture Juniper looking through her fridge, planning out what to make us for dinner when she sent me the text earlier about it. I can see her giving up and sighing, slamming the fridge shut and opting for the frozen pizza stash her dad always keeps on hand in the deep freeze.
Then I see her sitting at the kitchen table—her smile falling, the pizza turning cold and congealed as she waits for me to show up or at least respond. My stomach rolls and I clench my jaw.
“You remember my cousin Justine? The one who only wanted two kids but ended up pregnant with twins when they tried for the second?” She reaches for her water and takes a drink before continuing on with her story.
“What are we doing?” I say suddenly, my fork clattering to the plate. “How is this . . . ?” I motion between us. “I just don’t understand, Camilla.” I’m not making sense. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel or act.”
“About us, you mean?” She places her fork down gently.
“There is no us.” It comes out harsher than I intended, my words making her jump. “Sorry, you know what I mean. We weren’t just taking some space or on a break; you rejected my marriage proposal. You ended things. And now you’re here and I just feel like you expect me to jump back in and feel the same way. I can’t act like I do feel that, Cami. I can’t act like everything is okay.”
“I understand,” she’s calm, “and I know that I ended it. I take full responsibility for that and for hurting you, but I am sorry. And I don’t expect you to jump back in. I don’t, I promise. I’m just,” she shakes her head and dabs at her eyes with her napkin, “I think I was hoping that if I showed up and acted like everything was normal and okay, all those feelings would come rushing back to you.” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “I realize now how ridiculous that sounds,” she laughs nervously, “ugh, sorry, I hate crying.”
“I’m sorry I snapped like that. I guess I wasn’t trying to see it from your point of view. From taking the risk to come here and be vulnerable like this.” My chest softens, the tightness easing just a touch. “I was just—hurt is the obvious word, but I think I was also shocked. I thought you’d at least be willing to try with me. I hadn’t even made a decision to move back here yet. I wouldn’t have made that decision without you, but you made it without me.” My tone is still rough, my frustration ready to boil over. Clearly, the anger and hurt I thought I’d left in Texas when I moved back here has followed me.
“I never stopped loving you.” Her words are just above a whisper. “Walking away from you was the biggest mistake of my life and I know, I know . . .” she hiccups, “I don’t deserve a second chance, because you’re right, I never even gave you a first one, but I’m asking for one now.”
“I’m here, though, Camilla. I’ve made my life here. I’ve made promises to my father and our company that require me to live here. I was possibly willing to stay in Texas to make you happy, but that’s not on the table anymore.”
“I know,” she darts her hand out to grab mine like she’s scared I’m going to run away. “That’s why I’m here—to prove to you how serious I am. I’m ready to move here to be with you, to marry you and have a family with you.”
I slide one hand out from her grasp, placing it on top of hers. “What if I can’t do it again? What if I can’t fully open my heart back up to you?”
“I won’t pretend I’m not scared of that, but I’m willing to try—to prove to you that I’m willing to take that risk if it means rebuilding trust and what we had.”
“I—” I have the sudden unhinged urge to tell her there’s someone else, but I don’t. I’m confused and tired and in no condition to be making life-altering decisions. “I just need time to think things over, to figure out where my head is. I’m kind of spinning out on all of this—you being here—and it wouldn’t be fair to you or me to give you some half-cocked answer.”
“I understand, Decker.” She squeezes my hand before slowly pulling both of hers away. “I know this is a lot, and I appreciate the fact that you’ve even given me the time that you have and let me stay here.”
We both stand and silently take our plates to the sink. I clean them off and place them in the dishwasher while she puts the leftovers away.
“I’ve had a long day. If you don’t need anything, I think I’m just going to take a shower and crash.”
“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m going to have a cup of tea on the back deck if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, of course. You’re welcome to use anything you need.” I keep one foot on the steps, my hand on the railing as we both stand awkwardly. “Good night, Cami.”
“Thank you, good night.”
The cool bitternessof my beer is refreshing after another long and unseasonably hot day in early September. I tug my hat down a little lower to shield against the later afternoon sun that begins to sink beneath the mountain peaks.
When I see Juniper’s Subaru turn down her driveway, I slide off the bed of my truck and close it. I’m sure I made the wrong choice not reaching out to her at all, not even to apologize. I convinced myself it would be easier to explain in person, so I’ve just saved it all for one very uncomfortable conversation.
“Wow, so you are alive?” She holds her hands up over her brow, squinting as she approaches me. “Guess I should call off the search party then.” She gives me that smirk, the one that’s flirty and snarky at the same time. The one I know I can turn into a smile in a second if I grab her and kiss her.
“I’m guessing a regular-old ‘sorry’ isn’t going to do the trick in this situation, is it?” I hold out what remains of the six-pack I’ve been drinking from toward her.
“Oh, it’s gonna take a lot more than free Slade beer to get out of this one.” She grabs the entire case and flings it onto her shoulder, walking toward my truck. “Put the bed back down; it’s too nice a night to be inside.” I oblige, lowering the bed so she can place the beer on it. “Let me toss my stuff inside. Be right back.” She jogs toward the back door and disappears inside, reappearing a few moments later with a blanket and a bag of chips. “Here.” She tosses one end of the blanket toward me and we straighten it out on the truck bed so we have some padding. A moment later, we’re both sitting side by side in the back of the truck with a bag of chips and some beers between us.
“I—uh, I’m not even sure where to begin.” I look over at her, her blue eyes sparkling in the amber glow of the sun. A breeze picks up and swirls a few strands of hair from her half-undone braid around her face.
“You could start with ‘sorry.’ That’s usually the best jumping-off point when you blow someone off and then ghost them.”
“Well, I am incredibly sorry, and while there’s no excuse for my behavior, there is an . . . explanation. But first let me say that I shouldn’t have left you hanging the way I did. I should have said that something came up and I couldn’t make it and needed to reschedule. It was incredibly rude and I’m sorry.”
She nods her head slowly before giving me a very suspicious look. “If you’re going to follow that up with a story about how you’re actually a secret spy or the CIA needed your help with something, let me tell you now that I have in fact heard that excuse before, and I will not be falling for it again.”
She’s joking.
She falls into a fit of laughter at her own joke and it makes me smile too. She has every right to be angry with me, but she’s not. She pulls her denim-clad leg up and turns herself so she’s facing me, ready to hear my explanation.
“But seriously, I forgive you. I understand that sometimes shit happens and that’s life. The important thing is you’re okay and you’re here now.” She leans forward and pulls my hat from my head, placing it on hers. It’s something she’s done with me over the last few years. It’s cute, and it feels intimate, maybe because no one else has ever done it.
“Thank you,” I clear my throat, “but there’s something you need to know. Something I should have told you before I ever let things go as far as they have between us.”
“Oh.” Her face drops, her lips pursing into a straight line. My chest burns and I clear my throat to try to get the words out. “Look,” she reaches up to take her hat off slowly. “I was anticipating this conversation, so it’s really not that big of a deal.”
“What?” My head lifts in shock.
“I know I’m young, Decker, but I’m not as naive as you might think. I knew the whole we shouldn’t have done this, we can’t do it again speech was coming that night you came by my house but you chickened out.” She shrugs and takes a long pull of beer, her finger running absentmindedly down the seam of the blanket. “I’m a big girl, so I can handle it.”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. My mouth falls open, yet I don’t know what to say. How have I managed to completely misread two situations with two very different women?
“My ex showed up at my house last night. My ex-fiancée.” I just say it; no point in dragging it out any longer. The silence between us stretches. Finally, I turn my eyes to look at hers, but she’s staring at the ground. “I had no idea she was coming. I haven’t heard from her since before I left Texas, and when I came home to her on my porch, I was just in complete shock. The entire next day was kind of a blur.”
She brings the beer to her mouth, taking a sip, her eyes still staring at the ground. “You were engaged?”
“Yes—well, no,” I correct immediately. “I guess, technically, I was never engaged to her. I proposed and she said ‘no’ and that was the end of it.”
“Before we?—”
“Yes.”
“Wow,” she finally lifts her gaze toward mine, “I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t anticipate her showing up at my house like this.”
She shrugs. “I don’t think you need to apologize for that. It’s not like we asked each other about our exes—especially about whatever we did with other people before we got closer.”
“She did stay at my house last night, but nothing happened. She was in the first-floor guest room.”
“Is she still here?”
“Yes.”
“Were your parents excited to see her, or were they happy it didn’t work out with you guys before?”
“Well, that’s kind of, um, the other part of this . . . you’re the only one who knows about her.”
“Wait, what?” She narrows her gaze at me. “You’re a twin. You mean you dated and got engaged—er, proposed to someone, and no one in your family knew about her—not even Ranger?” I shake my head in shame. “Why not?”
“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest. Part of it was just not wanting them involved. I love my family more than anything, but you know how they are . . . they always have to be involved in everyone’s business.”
She laughs. “Yeah, that hasn’t gone unnoticed, but it’s also kind of a Slade trademark.”
“Meddling at its finest. They really give legs to that stereotype about small-town gossips.” Her comment has us both chuckling again. It feels strange to be sitting here talking to her like this, like we really are two best friends filling each other in on our lives . . . meanwhile, it feels like the beginning of the end for some reason.
“So what’s the other part of why you didn’t tell them?”
“The other part was how they tease me about my past—my commitment issues and whatnot. I just didn’t want that clouding my judgment and getting in the way of my happiness with her.”
That guilt gnaws deeper when I say those words: my happiness with her. Like it’s a crime that I was happy with someone else. I glance over at Juney to see if her expression gives anything away, but it doesn’t. We could be sitting at the bar talking about the most recent Avalanche game, and she’d have the same expression on her face.
“So, it seems like Texas was your chance to start over—to be your own man and just forge your own path?” I nod. “I’d always wondered why you left, if there was a specific reason.” She looks at me and I can’t tell if I’m just delusional or if that questioning look on her face is laced with hope.
“I think there were several reasons why I felt the need to leave. Can’t say it was one thing in particular, but more a culmination of things.”
“What’s her name?”
“Camilla.”
“Pretty.” She smiles. “Since you felt I should know that she showed up, and since she’s the one who said no to the proposal . . . I take it she isn’t showing up here to reject you again?”
“No, she’s not.” I don’t need to elaborate for her to understand that means she wants to get back together.
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
Beer shoots out of my nose and mouth, and I furiously wipe my face with the back of my sleeve. “What? Why?”
“Well, we both know you’ve had a reputation for not being tameable, and we also both know I had a well-known crush on you pretty much my entire life, so yeah . . . I have to meet the woman who finally made Decker Slade want to settle down.” She leans toward me, bumping my shoulder.
She says it with a smile—one that almost reaches her eyes—but I know I see heartbreak behind it. I know I’m not crazy, but what I can’t understand is why she’s acting like none of this matters.
“Yeah,” I shake my head, confused. “She wants to get back together, but I—I told her I don’t know if I could, even if I wanted to. I was really hurt with the way things ended between us, and it took me a while to realize that. I told her I needed to think through things, to figure out how I feel.”
“I’m sure she understands that.”
“Yeah, she was completely understanding. She says she’s ready to move here, to live with me and prove her love to me and earn back my trust.”
“Oh, wow. So it’s serious and she wants to pick up where you left off.”
“Yeah, it’s all just a lot, ya know? She just showed up and I think I’m still trying to process that she really is here. She never reached out once since things ended and then?—”
“Look,” she jumps down from the bed of the truck, “we both know why you came over to tell me this, and I appreciate that you’re letting me down easy.”
“No, that?—”
“Please,” she holds up her hand, “just let me finish my little speech. I know that what you had with Camilla has to have been something undeniably special for you to take that kind of leap. That says a lot to me, and I’m not going to cause any issues or stand in the way of something like that while you try to sort out your feelings and thoughts. So while I appreciate the easy letdown, I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
She reaches her hand out and places it on my knee, giving me an earnest smile. But instead of it making me feel better, it makes me want to scream.
“I hadn’t made any decisions; that’s actually why I came over here. I felt like you not only deserved an explanation as to why I just disappeared like that, but as someone I’ve recently slept with on more than one occasion, you also deserved to know that my ex is sleeping in my home.” I can hear the frustration in my tone, so I know she can. “I meant what I said when I told Camilla I needed time to figure my shit out—what I’m thinking and how I feel. I’m still processing all of it. But more importantly, I wanted to talk to you about it and see where your head’s at.”
“Okay, I understand and I appreciate it, I do. Whether you and Camilla decide to get back together or not, I’m just saying I’m not going to stand in the way of that because of a long-standing crush and a few hookups. I understand that we were having fun. It was good—great, actually—but again, Deck, I’m not naive.” This time she laughs for real. “No hard feelings, I promise.”
I stand up from the truck bed and fold the blanket, handing it back to her. “Thanks for being understanding about me being a dick yesterday, and for all of this.” I practically mutter the words, the confusion about what she and I were doing and how she sees it now turning into anger. “And I guess for hooking up with me. Glad it was a fun time for you.” I slam the truck bed and walk around to my door.
“Deck, wait,” she follows me around the truck, “I’m sorry if I upset you. I thought that’s what we were doing, just—wasn’t it?”
“Why does it matter what I think? Like you said, that’s all it was to you.” I pull open my truck door and put my foot on the floorboard to climb inside when I hear her huff.
“And that just reiterates what I said earlier about knowing what I was getting myself into. You made your bed with your reputation, Decker, and now you don’t want to lie in it. What’s a girl supposed to think when you bring her home twice but won’t even offer to take her on a date?”
I keep my back to her, trying to think of something—anything—I can say to make this better, but she’s right. I made my bed. Why the fuck would she think she’s different from any other woman I’ve been with when I treated her the same as them? Finally, I turn around to tell her I’m sorry and that she’s right, but she just rolls her eyes and turns on her heel.
“Whatever,” she mutters, shaking her head as she walks back toward her house.