26. Cameron
Chapter 26
Cameron
" D o you mind if I take my eight a.m. call in your bedroom?" Mackenzie asks as I pour a cup of coffee.
"No, that's not a problem at all," I say as I pour my creamer. "The crew won't be here until nine or nine thirty, and they don't come inside."
The door opens as I put the creamer back in the refrigerator, and before I can turn to see who joined us, strong arms wrap around me from behind.
"Good morning," Everett says as he inhales deeply and gently kisses my neck. I freeze my body, acutely aware that we aren't alone in the room.
"Mackenzie is sitting on the couch," I whisper.
"I'm aware."
I spin around in his arms. "You are?" I question, my eyes darting between his. When I fell asleep last night, he was with me in my bed, but at some point, he returned to the recliner. He said he'd tell Connor, but I didn't expect it to be first thing in the morning, nor did I think those confessions would lead to immediate PDA.
His lips gently peck mine as if holding me flush against his front wasn't statement enough. "I am."
The door opens again. "Oh, come on," Connor pinches the bridge of his nose and turns away. "Mackenzie, I'm leaving for the stadium. Can you come say bye to me outside?"
She closes her laptop. "Coming," she sings as she throws me a big smile.
The second the door closes, Everett's lips are on mine as his hands slide down and grip my ass. A heady moan escapes his throat as he lifts me onto the countertop and pulls back. "Last night, you said I was it for you. I hope that's still true because I don't plan on ever waking up another day without you in my arms."
I wrap my legs around his waist and keep him close. "You told Connor?"
"More or less," he says, his lips trailing my jaw.
"What does that mean, Ev? You either told him or you didn't." I can't help the slight trepidation that seeps into my tone.
"He knew before I could say anything, he could smell you."
I push his chest, my face undoubtedly flushed. "Excuse me?"
"Don't be embarrassed. I love the way you smell."
"Everett," I swat his chest. "Be serious. What did he say?"
"I am." He straightens and runs his hand through his dark hair. "The place smelled like sex, and he said since he didn't get laid last night, he knew it was us. He wasn't mad about it. We had a long overdue conversation, and he wants us to be happy. If being together accomplishes that, he wants that." Everett steps away from the counter and rubs his jaw. "Do I still make you happy?"
"Actually, now that I think about it, you might be getting senile," I say sarcastically before rolling my eyes with a sigh. "Aren't we past this? Why would you ask me that?"
"You're building a house." He gestures to the clearing outside.
"I am," I smile softly. I'm building a house right where I'm supposed to be.
"Are you ready to have that talk, or is Connor your ride? I know the games start early today."
He shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips. "I told him I needed to talk to you. He's going to coach the first game."
I let my lungs deflate the anxious energy I've unknowingly been holding since he wrapped his arms around my waist. This is real. He's ready to talk. I slide off the counter. "I'm building a house. It doesn't mean you're not my home. Maybe you'll consider living here with me if things work out."
His eyes soften before he wraps me in his arms. "There's no if about it. Never doubt that you were always meant to be mine."
"Hold onto those words. You might need them," I say as I push out of his hold and grab my coffee. "Grab a refill. I have a tree I want to show you, and you owe me a story about Lauren and Stormy."
As we walk down to the tree, Everett is quiet. I can't tell if it's a nervous or relieved quiet. He has reason to be both. I will say, even with these unresolved questions lingering between us, it finally feels like we're on the same page, like whatever we're about to talk about is inconsequential because it won't change how we feel about each other, but the discussion needs to happen all the same. If there's one thing Everett Callahan excels at, it's secrets. He'll keep them even when they're not his to keep, but that can't be how our story starts. Love isn't built on secrets and lies. It's built with trust.
"Stormy stayed with me the first night I was here, and she said a lot of things, most of which didn't make sense. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, and honestly, her confessions had me freaked out. For a second, I regretted that I turned off my family sharing."
"Speaking of, I'm going to need you to turn that back on. That's a hard limit for me, Cameron. Not because I don't trust you, but because I need to know where you are to keep me sane. I worry too much, and I can't focus when I don't know where you are." I can't help but smile, knowing how worked up he gets. I've always known I affect him, but hearing him say it is a whole other layer I haven't experienced. I like possessive Everett. "What did Stormy say that made you uncomfortable?"
"She said she lied to me to get close to me. The thunderstorm that rolled through that night didn't help my anxiety, but her next words pissed me off as much as they warded off the stage-ten stalker vibes I was getting. She insinuated that you knew."
He stops. "Knew what exactly?"
"That's what I'd like to know."
"Did I know Stormy was lying? Yes."
My eyes widen as I gesture with my hand for him to continue. "And… is there a reason you never warned me or told me about her lies when you knew we were friends?"
"I did tell you. I warned you to be careful around Stormy because of who her aunt is." He uses air quotes to emphasize the falsity of that title. "I didn't tell you the rest because there wasn't anything to tell you. I still don't know why she lied, but I find it very interesting that she admitted her falsehoods to you."
"Okay… well, just to clear it up and make sure we are on the same page moving forward, I'm going to need you to tell me these types of things when they come up. I'm not Moira. I want a partnership, not a coexistence. I'm the person you tell everything to. If you can trust me with your heart, you should be able to trust me with what's in your head."
He reaches me in two steps and tips my chin up. "I have never once wished you to be anyone other than who you are." His lips gently press into mine before his heavy brow furrows, and his black eyes turn as dark as coal. "Sometimes the things we hold inside have nothing to do with trust and everything to do with pain. If I don't tell you something, it's not because I want to hurt. It's the opposite. I want to protect you."
"Is that what you're doing now?" He looks at me in question. "You gave me something, answered my question and gave me a truth, but didn't give me all of it, did you?" He doesn't say anything, and I don't need him to. His silence is answer enough. Pushing him back, I start down the path to the tree. "That's not going to work for me, Everett."
I hear his footsteps crunching the earth behind me. "I'm not lying to you, Cameron, and I'm not keeping a secret, or at least, I don't see it that way. I should be allowed to process information inside my head alone without fear of persecution from my girlfriend."
"Girlfriend, is it?" I stop when I reach the tree.
"I haven't used that word since I was sixteen, but I'm pretty sure that's where this is supposed to start."
I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. "I'll hold off on accepting the title until after I see how well you answer my next question."
"Cameron," he practically growls my name. "This relationship isn't optional. It's happening."
I don't argue with him on that. I'm bluffing anyway, but he doesn't get to hold all the power in this relationship. "Fine, I'll agree to the title…" I trail off as if that word in reference to me wasn't one hundred percent the highlight of my year. "But last time I checked, I still have my own room, with my own bed, and seeing as how my needs were satiated last night, a couple nights in the doghouse?—"
He's on me before I can finish. "If I'm in the doghouse, you'll be there with me, floor, couch, spare bedroom. If I'm there, you'll be there too. You can withhold that sweet pussy all you want, but sleeping arrangements are a hard limit for me." His hand squeezes my cheek hard. "Plus, I guarantee you'd break before me."
"Want to make a bet?" I challenge, his lips inches away from mine.
"No, a gambling man knows to quit when he's ahead. I already stole your heart." He pecks my lips. "Now show me this damn tree so you can go back to liking me."
I nod toward the trunk of the yellowwood we're standing under. "It's cute. You hear about this in old-school love stories all the time. Lovestruck teenagers carving their names into trees, but to find one and know it's your dad who carved it makes it extra special." I watch as he pulls out of my arms and squats at the tree's base, slowly running his fingers over my father's carving. There's no mistaking it's him. His name is clearly notched into the trunk with another.
" W ho is Camie?" I ask as he traces the carving.
He's quiet before he stands to his full height. "Apparently, someone that meant something to him."
"You were his best friend. You're telling me you don't know who Camie was?" I try to keep my voice even when he's holding back. I know seeing that engraving wasn't easy for him. When Orion showed it to me, it felt like I was getting back a piece of my dad. He's gone, but his hand-carved note remains. He anxiously runs his hand through his hair before looking over the lake. "Everett, he was my dad. When he left this land to me, there was a note saying:
‘I'm sure you're wondering why I left you a piece of heavily wooded property with a lake that's barely accessible. The short answer is that I was once happy here, and maybe, if you need it, you'll find happiness here too.'
He was happy here, Everett, and whoever Camie is, she was a part of that happiness. I want to know. If you don't tell me, I'll dig until I figure it out on my own?—"
He holds up his hand. "Can you give me a week?"
"I don't understand. Why can't you tell me now?" His silence only allows my mind to run away with the strange things Stormy said the last time she was here. Everett admitted he knew about her lies, and when I asked for the truth now, he countered for more time. My thoughts instantly spiral as I try to connect the dots. My parents married young. It was the summer between his senior of high school and starting college that my dad knocked up my mother, or so he thought. Was Camie the girl before my mom? Stormy was asking questions about Kelce and my parents, and she admitted she wanted to get close to me. Is this why? Is she a love child too? Camie's daughter. "Is Stormy my sister?"
Stormy mentioned she was adopted, and she never knew her dad. She was surprised when I told her Everett hadn't mentioned anything about it. That has to be why he's asking for time. He said himself he didn't understand why she would choose those lies. His eyes soften, and I see it. I know what he meant now when he said he didn't want to hurt me by sharing his thoughts. Sharing something like that is false hope. False hope that there's another piece of him left besides me. False hope for an instant bestie who's also my blood. False hope for a family I thought was gone.
"Give me a week, sunshine. That's all I'm asking for. One week, and I'll tell you everything. I'll lay out every detail, every thought that was ever etched into my mind, every word that ever made an imprint on my heart, and all of it will be yours. I swear it."
"One week," I repeat. "One week or I'll start digging, and you most certainly will be in the doghouse."
He nods with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes before looping his arm around my shoulder and walking us back toward the RV. I try not to linger on his dispirited reaction to my words. I just showed him a piece of Dad, one he didn't know existed, on the day we lost him five years ago. Grief looks different for everyone. It ebbs and flows. Sometimes, the waters are calm like the lake beside us, and other times, they rage like the sea, but today I'm not alone. Together, we share this loss, and together, we'll learn how to swim because I refuse to drown.