I clarify. “I mean, like, really talk. Like how you talked to each other back then.”
After Hilary’s dad died, Ryan took her to my cabin for some privacy. He’d been worried about Hilary and how she was managing.
Ryan’s dark hair shifts in the wind tunneling through the cabin. “No, we haven’t really spoken since,” he says, concern gripping him.
“Give it time.” I reach over and pat him on the back. He smiles with a simple nod of his head, lips forming into a flat, tight line.
The mainland begins to penetrate the fog as we continue cutting through the waves. We pull into a long cove and anchor the boat about a hundred yards from shore. We hop onto a smaller skiff and head toward land with all our gear in tow. The beaches are nice along the mainland, and we decide to create a camp just inside the tree line, protecting us from harsh weather conditions such as heavy wind and rain. Ryan gets our gear out and sets up camp before we head out to sample for the day.
I look at my phone and ask Ryan, “Hey, do you have Hilary’s number?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“I was going to shoot her a text and let her know we made it safe. She seemed worried.” I also want her to tell Cammie I say hello.
“Yeah, here you go,” Ryan says as he shows me Hilary’s contact info. I type a new message on my satellite phone and send it off.
Me: Hey Hilary, it’s Jake and Ryan. We’re safe. Just wanted you to know. Tell Cammie I say hey.
A few moments pass before she responds. These satellite phones often lag, especially on low cloud coverage days like today.
Hilary: Thanks for letting me know. I will tell Cammie you say hi.
I don’t respond, instead I slide my phone into my pocket and zip it for the day’s work. I wipe a hand against my face, hoping to wipe the evidence from it. I look back toward Ryan who has just secured his pack against his back. “Ready?” He gives me a thumbs up and a nod as we trek out into the woods.
After a long day in the field, we return to camp soaked and chilled. It was a colder day than predicted and the rain never let up. Despite the heavy-duty rain gear, we are still soaked.
“You know, all these fancy outdoor gear companies should come test their stuff on us.” Ryan calls over to me as he changes out of his wet clothes.
“Agreed,” I say, pouring excess water from my boots.
“I’m not sure I’d call this shit waterproof.” He rings out his t-shirt in an attempt to quicken the drying process.
Once dry, Ryan and I get a fire going so we can warm up and make burgers. I look out across the bay and notice the water is flat calm. The mist nearly touches the water, making it feel as though I’m on the edge of the world. There is a quiet stillness amongst the crackling of the flames.
“So, you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Cammie?” Ryan asks, giving me a raised eyebrow.
I’m jolted back to reality as I peer over at Ryan, trying to remain inconspicuous. “Nothing.”
He laughs and shakes his head, “Yeah, right. I’ve only just grown up with you your whole life. You seriously don’t think I know when you’re full of it?” There was never a use in lying to Ryan.
“I don’t know.” I scratch the back of my neck. “She’s different. Interesting,” I say as a smile grows across my lips. I look up in time to catch Ryan rolling his eyes at me.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head with a grin. “Just never seen you this way before.”
“Me either,” I blow out a puff of air.
I can play the long game, if it’s what she needs. I can be steady and consistent but at some point, I need her to show me I’ve got a shot. Otherwise, I’ll wonder if I’ve just made this up in my head.
“You have your work cut out with that one,” Ryan says as he flips the burgers.
“Why’s that?” I ask, wondering what Ryan knows.
Ryan pauses for a moment, his eyebrows drawn like he’s thinking of the right thing to say. “She’s pretty distrusting.”
A bark of laughter rips through my chest at the summation of Cammie. “I’d say.”
“She was dating some guy back in Colorado, Brandon or something. Anyway, they were living together and she found out he had been cheating on her–– for a while, too.”
My fists clench as anger washes over me at the realization. Some prick hadn’t seen the value in the precious cargo he’d been given access to and instead stepped out on her.
“I guess it really messed with her.” He shrugs. “She came here for a week’s vacation and never left.”
“That’s awful,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. No wonder she seems guarded and disinterested.
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “She’s had it rough, Jake. Don’t get involved unless you’re sure.”
I swallow the words rising in my throat. All of them some version of how she’s different, but how do I begin to explain that?
Do I tell Ryan I feel it in the way she looks at me, like the hurt she bears alone is one I’d beg to take away? Like the loneliness that consumes her is one I’d spend my whole life defending her from because I’ve felt it too, the betrayal, the abandonment. It’s in the way her eyes flash back and forth when she feels invisible, that’s when my body aches to reach out and tell her, I see you.
“I’m sure,” I clench my jaw with determination. “Even if it can’t be with me, Cammie deserves to see her worth.”
“Be smart,” Ryan cautions. “She belongs in Smuggler’s Cove, don’t go messing that up.”
“How would I do that?”
“Samantha’s always had a thing for you.” He cocks a grin, but there’s concern riddling his eyes. “I think she sees Cammie as some sort of threat.”
I toss my head into my hand and wipe it down my face. “Was that why she was all over me last night at the Fish House?”
Ryan nods, suppressing laughter.
I wipe another frustrated hand through my hair and glare at Ryan. “Shit, I didn’t even shut it down. What was I thinking?”
Ryan’s hardy laugh bellows between us, “I think you were distracted by someone else.”
He’s right, I was distracted. “How serious is this crush of hers?”
Ryan shifts his head back and forth as if weighing his options. “I think she’ll likely stake her claim while we’re away. She’ll make the historical extent of your relationship known to Cammie. Doesn’t help you two dated in high school.”
“That was forever ago,” I deadpan, waiting for Ryan to assure me Samantha’s grown up and wouldn’t act childish, but unfortunately, I know better. “Shit,” I dig my phone out of my pocket.
Me: If Samantha talks to Cammie before I’m home, ask her to give me a chance to explain first.
I send it off, but there’s no reply. Knowing they are probably working their night shift at the Fish House, I shouldn’t expect a reply until late tonight. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I pace along the beach.
Asking Cammie to give me a chance is like searching the sea for a mermaid. I’m never going to find one. Asking for a second chance is insane. Someone like her isn’t going to give someone like me a second chance, especially if she thinks I’m committed to someone. I’m not, but I have no doubt Samantha will do her best to make it seem like I am.
“There isn’t anything you can do about it tonight,” Ryan reminds me of my predicament.
He’s right, instead of pacing the beach all night, I decide to turn in knowing tomorrow is another long day of field sampling, and if I’m lucky, a long night of explaining.
Six
Cammie
After sending the guys off this morning, the day was filled with kayak tours and maintenance. Although the weather was wet and dreary, the water was decent, which meant we could run all of our expeditions. My shoulders ache as I reach for a pint glass from the top shelf reminding me how tired my body is from running it ragged.
Tonight, Hilary and I are back at the Fis
h House working until closing. Alan is sat in his normal spot at the end of the bar, his eyes glazed over with a nice buzz and cheeks pink from the booze. The pub’s filled to the brim, locals and tourists crammed around long tables sharing tales of their adventurous days.
This is the real Smuggler’s Cove––the ability to come together over a meal or a drink and share the successes or challenges of the day. One of the local men’s voice booms across the room about how this year he plans to win citing the elusive best fishing spot. Of course, he doesn’t share the details with all the eager onlookers. A good fisherman never reveals their spots.
The King Salmon Derby occurs every Memorial Day weekend––a tradition that’s been around for decades. I didn’t fish in the Derby last year, but I’ve been excited to try this year. In part, it’s why Hilary and I have been rigging up our kayaks. Not the most effective strategy, but neither of us own a boat, and everyone is pretty competitive, meaning they tend to limit the number of poles to people on their boat.
There is a large cash prize for whoever catches the largest fish. I don’t expect to win or anything, but it is quite the festive event seeing as we are living in the salmon capital of the world.
“I’d love a vodka tonic,” a cloy voice calls out. I look up to see Samantha leaning across the bar, a forced smile across her ruby red lips.
“Sure thing,” I say, in my best customer-service voice.
Conversation buzzes around me, I search for Hilary, hoping she’ll come to my rescue. My body radiating with nerves as Samantha’s cloud of impending dread envelops me.
“So,” she leans forward in an attempt to meet my eyes. “You seem to know Jake Davis.”
“Hardly,” I scoff.
“It didn’t seem like that last night when I saw him walk you home.” Jealousy oozes from her pores.
“He’s a friend of Hilary’s,” I say, bored with this conversation. “He walked me home as a favor to her because she wasn’t feeling well and left early.”
Samantha pouts her bottom lip in a familiar, pitying way, and my body reacts on impulse. If I didn’t have self-control, I’d reach across the bar and slap the look from her face.
“Here you go.” I slam her cocktail against the bar, letting it splash out onto the bar top. She jumps back, avoiding the splash zone.
“Samantha,” I hear Hilary’s dry tone approach.
“Hey, Hilary.” Samantha tosses her hair off her shoulder before flashing a smug smile in my direction. “I was just telling Cammie here how Jake and I used to know each other… intimately.”
“Samantha, that was, like, ten years ago,” Hilary adds.
“True, but we’ve been talking since he’s arrived back.” She pulls a sip from her straw. “Seems we may rekindle our relationship.” She looks between Hilary and me, that same obnoxious smile plastered across her vibrant lips and I feel something twist in my gut. “We were each other’s first love.” She takes another casual sip from her straw. “Maybe we’ll be each other’s last.”
With that, she turns to walk away and I let out a sigh of relief. God, she is tiny but completely infuriating.
Hilary turns to me. “I wouldn’t buy into what she’s selling.”
“I don’t care,” I say, trying to convince myself more than others as I wipe the bar top where I spilled Samantha’s drink.
“She’s full of it,” Hilary continues with certainty.
“Hilary, I really don’t care. I don’t even know the guy.” I shake my head, trying to maintain a neutral facial expression, feeling the frustration climbing up my throat.
“Yeah, but I saw the way he was with you today on the dock, and—"
I cut Hilary off to interject. “And he seems like every other guy who’s charming and good looking.” I huff. “I’m not buying into him or Samantha.” I say as I walk past her to make the rounds and take orders, hoping my efforts assured Hilary how not interested I am in Jake Davis.
I turn the music up a smidge and start collecting empties and refilling drink orders. I’ve reluctantly avoided Samantha’s table till the last second possible. Hilary has attempted to take their order a few times, but they continue to wave her off.
“Are you all doing okay?” I ask. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Oh, Cammie,” Samantha starts in, a subtle slur to her words. “We were just talking about Jake,” her fingers twirl through her hair.
My face tightens and my cheeks begin to heat. “Great, can I get you anything?”
“He’s so sweet. He texted me last night, see?” She shoves her phone in my face, and although I don’t read the messages, I am able to see there are, in fact, several messages between her and Jake.
“Awesome,” I smile but the tight knot in my stomach intensifies. “If you don’t need anything more, then I really should be going.”
Samantha and her friends all snicker. “I would love another. Anyone else?”
A few others request a refill, so I make my way back to the bar and breathe with hopes of easing my frustration. I quickly mix drinks and return a tray to their table.
“Cammie, remind me what made you move here again?” Samantha inquires. I know full well she’s aware of why I moved here, she’s brought it up on several occasions. “Oh right, it’s because your boyfriend cheated on you.” Giggles erupt around the table from bored women with vicious intent. “I’m so sorry for you. I totally forgot.” Samantha smiles viciously.
“Will that be al—" I’m cut off before finishing.
“You know, I would be a wreck. I might even kill myself,” Samantha emphasizes, her eyes blur as the alcohol flows through her bloodstream minimizing every humanistic quality she possesses.
Her words stun me, and I stop listening to the remainder of the conversation. Tears begin to prick my eyes as I beg my body to move away from the daggers they’ll throw, but I can’t, I’m frozen.
Early on in Smuggler’s Cove, Samantha had befriended me at a party. I was fairly intoxicated after just having another ugly conversation with Brandon and I drunkenly spilt my guts. My voice of reason tells me these actions say more about her than they do me, but it doesn’t numb the torment she’s put me through since.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Hilary says to the table.
“Whatever do you mean?” Samantha presses her hand against her chest as her friends suppress their laughter.
“It gives me great pleasure to kick you ladies out this evening.” Hilary flashes a wicked smile, ecstatic to throw Samantha and her posse out of the Fish House.
“You can’t be serious.” Samantha leans back, her scowl drawn with disbelief.
“She’s real fucking serious,” Jace raises his voice from behind me. “Get out.” He nods toward the door.
Their table stands and reluctantly leaves. I excuse myself in a rush toward the bathroom in time to collapse against the door and cry. I grip my knees pulling them tight against my body and toss my head against my chest.
It’s been a difficult transition, and as much as I love Smuggler’s Cove, I’ve never felt like I belong. I’m not sure I ever felt like I belong anywhere. I miss the comfort and stability of my old life even the consistent inconsistency of Brandon. I’m far away from home and isolated here alone. I’m alone, and I’m not sure that feeling is ever going to go away.
I hear a knock at the door. “Cam, it’s Hilary.” I wipe my eyes and stand to unlock the door.
“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “I just needed a moment.”
“They are assholes. Don’t listen to Samantha. She’s just jealous.” She rubs my arm and pulls me in for a hug.
“Of what?” I ask incredulously as I catch my breath. “I don’t want anything to do with Jake. I don’t even know him.” She continues to rub a comforting hand across my back in reassurance, providing me with some much needed relief.
The next day, Hilary and I are returning from our last tour. It’s reaching closing time as we wash the kayaks off and clean them out. We had an amazing
tour today after a close encounter with a pod of killer whales. They were so close to some of the kayaks, the tourists could’ve reached out and touched them. We advised against it, but the point is it was possible.
I’ve stripped down out of my rain gear and am in a sweaty tank top with my damp hair plastered to my head and face. I grab the hose and start washing the kayaks out. My face is flushed from another full day’s work. I use my forearm to wipe my forehead and wince with pain, the wind had picked up on this last tour and must’ve burned my face.
I look over toward Hilary who is talking to Tommy about one of the kayaks that has some damage in need of immediate repair. She’s pointing out some cracking when I hear loud whistling behind me.
“Wow,” the deep, silky voice calls out. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
I turn around to see Jake on the back deck of their boat. “Oh good, you’re here.” Disdain drips from my voice but his playful smile tells me he’s not falling for the bitter welcome.
“Can you help us tie off?” he asks and I nod. Hilary jogs back down the dock to take the bow line.
“Good trip?” She asks as Ryan tosses the line to her.
“Sure was,” he flashes a wide, toothy grin, in Hilary’s direction. I can’t decide if the flush of her cheeks is from his smile or the wind burn from earlier.
“Except, I could use a shower and a warm change of clothes,” Jake says as he tosses me the stern line.
I bend down to tie them off on the cleat. “Looks good.”
“Sure does,” Jake says as he looks over to where I stand. His desperation to poke fun doesn’t go unnoticed. Instead of waiting around, I walk back to the kayak I was washing down.
I’m off this evening and have every intention of throwing a few back and enjoying my free time. The weather has started to clear and it looks like it’ll be a warm sunny evening and I plan to spend it at the beach with a blazing bonfire.
Hilary’s still talking to Ryan and Jake, I try not to stare because every time I look over Jake’s looking back with his stupid grin on his face. “I’m not looking at you,” I shout but his cocky grin doesn’t falter, instead it challenges me in a sure you weren’t sort of way.
Every Step of the Way: (Smugglers Cove #1) Page 5
