Chapter Twenty-Four. Fault Line
Chapter Twenty-Four
FAULT LINE
Cam was awakened by the sunshine seeping through the threadbare curtains. She stretched, limbs trailing across the sheets in search of Danny.
But he was gone.
The smell of bacon trickled beneath the door, along with Danny’s voice. From his cooing tone and warnings to be good, she knew he was talking to Reggie. Considering the smell of meat cooking, the happy dog was likely on his hind legs, begging at the stove, desperate for a taste.
Instead of leaving bed, she listened to the one-sided conversation, to the promise of a dog-safe portion of scrambled eggs. She closed her eyes, relishing the soothing words of her best friend. He was … incredible. Kind, and generous, and devoted to caring for others.
Cam couldn’t relate. Because she was selfish. She was careless.
She was reckless. Esme had accused her of being reckless with Danny’s heart, even pleaded with her to keep the burgeoning attraction to herself. And that’s what it was—an attraction. The first moments when the lenses of friendship blurred into the rose-colored glasses she associated with romance.
It couldn’t be anything else.
Cam had done nothing right in the last ten months of her life and the toy fiasco only added to the tally.
She could’ve sent Danny off with a thank-you.
She could’ve spent her morning preparing for the inevitable—but survivable—awkwardness that would follow such an intimate favor.
Hell, she could’ve sucked up her pride and called Esme, or worse, let Danny drive her to the hospital.
Instead, she’d dragged him into the crossfire. And once he finished helping her, she pulled him into bed and had her way with him.
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
She buried her face in a pillow and groaned. But at the first whiff of Danny, the first smell of his natural musk, she threw the pillow across the room.
This was bad.
She needed to course correct, and fast. It took her and Cory years after their breakup to reach some level of comfort together. Now, their friendship was intact but distant, comprised of happy birthday texts and seeing each other a few times a year in group settings.
But even with their civility, the fractures lingered. Her wedding snub. Morgan’s edited stories. Once, Cory was the topic of half of Cam’s conversations, and now, their mutual friends didn’t even feel comfortable telling her about his engagement.
Her breakup with Cory was an earthquake, and the aftershocks lasted long past graduation. Would the five of them make it through another disaster?
We don’t need to, the panicked voice in her head whispered, because the ground isn’t shaking yet.
Cam nodded quickly, decision made. One night of sex didn’t have to ruin her relationship with Danny. Didn’t have to make things awkward.
Because that was all it was—sex. Anything more would be careless.
Reckless.
And that was fine, right? Because that was Danny’s MO. He’d always been the laid-back one. The go with the flow guy. The spur-of-the-moment, spontaneous, let’s get slushies and smoke a cigarette type.
No-strings-attached sex fit the archetype.
The fact that they were friends—best friends—didn’t have to complicate anything.
When she finished her pep talk, she slipped back into her T-shirt, and for good measure, shorts. A quick stint in the bathroom got her hair together and teeth brushed, and by the time she reached the kitchen, Danny was scooping freshly scrambled eggs into Reggie’s bowl.
As soon as the dish hit the floor, Reggie took off for his feast. Danny turned to her, and at the first glimpse of his boyish smile, Cam wondered if she’d underestimated how difficult this would be.
He wore only a pair of sweatpants, and his sleep-disheveled hair fell into his eyes, errant strands teasing his black-framed glasses.
His skin was reddened in places, most notably his shoulders, where she’d left scratches.
“Good morning,” she said, sitting at the kitchen island. She hated how hoarse she sounded. “Something smells good.”
“Reg thought so.” He leaned across the island and slid two plates over, both stacked with eggs, bacon, and toast. He sat beside her and held out a fork. “For the food, not your hair.”
“Thank you. Unless that’s your way of saying I need to brush it?”
“Nah. That was me remembering the Halloween you were a mermaid.”
“That was a long time ago.” She did the mental math, thinking back to their sophomore fall. “Wow. Almost seven years.”
He poured them coffee but didn’t take his eyes off her. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
Upon accepting the mug, she took a generous sip, unable to drag her attention from his soft gaze. His eyes were as dark as the coffee, and she knew his stare would get her heart pounding more than any amount of caffeine.
Their prolonged eye contact pebbled her skin with goose bumps and filled her head with salacious thoughts. Riding him until her legs gave out, trembling with his head between her thighs, choking on his—
She jolted, breathing shakily. She needed to focus on the other voices in her head, the louder ones.
The logical ones.
Don’t shack up with Danny, okay?
Getting involved with friends is messy.
You’re being reckless with Danny’s heart.
Three distinct voices formed a shameful symphony, a backing track that couldn’t be muted.
When she closed her eyes, a picture appeared, the details in Technicolor: Danny’s laughing smile, Drew’s knit sweater, Morgan’s lipstick-stained wineglass, Cory’s frosting-covered mouth.
A tray of cupcakes reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY. A collection of empty glasses across a glossy bar. A green 2ND AVE sign visible through the window.
It was the January after they graduated. Everyone journeyed to New York City for Cory’s twenty-third birthday, reuniting after Danny’s six months abroad. They barhopped. They drank. They ate shitty pizza. They ate good pizza.
They did what friends do.
But Cam wasn’t recalling the moment from experience. Only from an outsider’s perspective, having seen the picture on Morgan’s social accounts, reappearing occasionally for birthday posts and nostalgic afternoons. It was a joyous memory for her best friend, but a mocking reminder for Cam.
Because she didn’t go. The breakup was too raw at that point, and she couldn’t imagine celebrating her ex-boyfriend’s birthday with no cares in the world.
That picture was a taunting token of everything that could go wrong from sleeping with friends. And as she stared at Danny, at his gentle smile, and dimpled cheeks, and disheveled hair …
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lose him over one night of sex.
She couldn’t lose all of them.
“Thank you for breakfast,” she said, playing with her food. She managed a few bites, although she wasn’t feeling terribly hungry. “It was delicious.”
“My pleasure, Milly. And uh…” He scratched his neck, gaze darting to his empty plate. “Do I need to … pick anything up?”
She stared at him, blinking as her morning brain tried to piece together his meaning. When it hit, she focused on her coffee, cheeks heating. “No, that’s okay. I’ve been on birth control since I was fifteen.”
“Ah. Good. I … should’ve asked.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t either.” She bit her lip, nervous for where the conversation was heading. “It wasn’t the first thing on my mind.”
He laughed, the sound strained. “Yeah…”
They needed to talk about this. To put the guardrails up, before they veered off the highway at an uncontrollable speed.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she rushed out. “I feel awful I put you in that position, and I’m sorry I basically, like, mauled you.”
“Cam … you didn’t maul me.”
“You … wanted to leave.”
“Because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” When he cleared his throat, she had to physically restrain herself from looking at him. “You were in a vulnerable position and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable from how my body was reacting. But … believe me. I didn’t wanna leave.”
“Oh. Good.” With a tight-lipped smile, she met his gaze. “Then it’s okay we messed around. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “Sure.”
“Come on!” she teased, knocking her shoulder into his. Her smile was painful. “Friends hook up all the time. It’s not a big deal.”
He collected their plates and returned to the kitchen. As the faucet flipped on, she stared at his bare back, desperately trying to forget the sensation of his heated skin beneath her fingertips.
“It was like smoking the cigarette,” she continued, feeling frantic from his silence. “Spontaneous, and I’m glad we did it, but—”
“It’s bad for us?” he filled in, staring at the pan he scrubbed. “It’s … stupid fun?”
“Stupid fun,” she repeated, even though the words tasted acidic on her tongue. “So … it’s nothing to worry about.”
He shut the water off but didn’t turn her way. “Yeah. Nothing to worry about.”
“Okay! Good. Great. Wonderful. I’m going to shower, and then do you want to—”
“I’m going on a run, actually,” he interrupted, moving down the hallway. “Have a good shower.”
When his door shut, she remained in the kitchen, unsure of what to do or where to go. She wasn’t prepared for his abrupt departure but … they only had so much time before they needed to get to Beau’s.
Yeah. That was it. Beau’s opening.
A ticking clock.
Not their conversation. Not their night in bed.
Entertaining her delusions, she prepared for the hottest shower of her life.