by Jill Shalvis
That’s when Piper realized her sister was wearing a toolbelt. And it actually had tools in it. The leather creaked and the tools clanked when she crossed the room to the toaster.
“You’re working here,” Piper repeated, confused.
“Why not? You’re working your ass off, right? And you can’t do it all on your own.” She pointed at herself, looking prideful and a little wan, which Piper attributed to her being up at this previously unseen hour.
“Okay,” Piper said. “Who are you two and what have you done with my real siblings?”
“I know, right?” Winnie put a piece of bread in the toaster. “Guess we grew up after all—”
“Wait!” Piper said before Winnie pushed the lever. “You’ll start a fire.”
“I fixed it.”
Piper blinked. “You fixed it?”
“Yeah. I keep telling you, YouTube’s amazing. Oh and the Wi-Fi—”
“—is crappy,” Piper said. “I know. I keep meaning to call—”
“Fixed that too.”
Piper stared at Winnie. “What?”
“Yeah, you had the wiring all screwed up, and also you weren’t password protected, so everyone and their dog was using your connection. Rookie mistake.”
Piper blinked. “Are you making fun of my tech skills?”
“Yes.”
“Just remember, I taught you how to use a damn spoon.”
Winnie grinned, and it looked so cute and carefree that Piper felt a burst of emotion. Happiness, she thought. She was so unused to it, she’d barely recognized it.
Winnie started to say something else, but went suddenly still, a hand on her stomach. Her color was way off. As in green.
“You okay?” Piper asked.
“Yep.” Winnie paused, then shook her head. “Nope.” And she went running out of the room.
Piper looked at Gavin. “The flu?”
Gavin shrugged. “Hey, do you think Mom and Dad would like the idea of all of us being back here together as adults?”
Her chest got a little tight in the way it always did whenever he tried to get her to talk about their parents. Just thinking about them hurt like hell, much less talking about them. But she managed a tight smile. “I do.” Then she left the kitchen and moved to the downstairs bathroom door, which was shut and locked. She knocked softly. “Winnie? You okay?”
“Go away.”
Ah. There she was. Piper went and got a can of ginger ale and a sleeve of crackers, and left them outside the bathroom door. Then she got one of the cottage front door locks replaced before she had to take off for work, where she spent twelve straight hours seeing the worst of humanity. But on the upside, she and Jenna got a whole fifteen minutes for a midday break, and they hit up 7-Eleven for hot dogs and chips.
Score.
After work, she drove home and climbed out of her car, taking a moment to just look at the lake and unwind. Other than that one bad storm, winter hadn’t been much of a threat. She hoped it stayed that way. Right now it was windy but a downright balmy sixty-two degrees. The sun was setting, casting the choppy lake and the surrounding rolling hills in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Grabbing her bag, she headed toward Emmitt’s house for her daily check-in. Halfway there, she caught sight of someone on the docks. A tall, built someone sitting with his feet hanging over the side, staring at the water the way she’d been.
Cam. He was in a wet suit that he’d peeled off his torso and shoved down to his waist. His hair was wet.
It was ridiculous how he could affect her mood. And her pulse. She’d told herself this was a bad idea, he was a bad idea, but there seemed to be some sort of disconnect between her brain and heart. Not to mention decidedly south of her heart.
Her life was chaos, always had been. But somehow Cam had become the calm in the storm. He was easy to be with. He was slow to anger, steady, determined, focused. And best yet, she didn’t have to take care of him. She could just enjoy him.
The knowledge felt . . . freeing and fun, a lot like the freedom she’d been yearning for and dreaming about. She’d like to keep things just as they were. Well, okay, maybe with a whole lot more nudity and orgasms. But other than that, just like this, no complications.
Complications continued to ruin her life.
It was then that she realized Cam’s shoulders were set with tension, and even from this distance, she could tell that something was wrong.
Emmitt was going to have to wait.
She got down to the marina and came to a halt just before the docks. Because of course Cam was on the longest one, which jutted straight out at least a hundred feet over the lake.
If she wanted to get to him, she’d have to walk it.
Oh, boy. She took a few more steps, but stopped right before stepping up onto the actual dock itself.
She was already sweating. “Hey.”
He didn’t hear her.
Damn wind. She drew in a deep breath and stepped up onto the dock. She swiped her clammy hands over her thighs and took another step. Suddenly she felt ill. Maybe she’d caught Winnie’s flu. Maybe she should turn around and go straight home.
Except Winnie had texted her earlier not to worry, she didn’t have the flu. Maybe food poisoning, but whatever it was, she was fine now.
Great. So Piper couldn’t even use “close to death” as an excuse. “Cam.”
He still didn’t turn around. Well, shit. She managed another few steps, getting past the sandy shore now. Which meant she was directly over the water, specifically the waves lapping at the beach. Perfect, and now she was starting to hyperventilate right on cue.
Which was of course when Cam turned and caught her standing there, very carefully dead center of the dock, hands to her pounding heart.
“Hey,” she managed with a pretty good false cheer, if she did say so herself. “Whatcha doing?”
“Swimming.”
This had her fear momentarily forgotten. “In the lake?”
“No, in the air.” He shook his head, a small smile playing around his mouth, but not making it to his eyes. “Yes, the lake. I swim it every day.”
“The whole thing?” she squeaked. “On purpose?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve always used swimming to blow off steam.”
Well, hell. Something most definitely wasn’t okay. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer, which meant—dear God—she was going to have to move closer.
Chapter 17
“I remember all my promises.”
Cam heard Piper’s question; he just had no idea how to answer. What was wrong? Every-fucking-thing, but that seemed overly dramatic, and he didn’t do dramatic. Or emotions. Not since he’d bottled everything up, including Rowan’s death, and shoved it down deep.
For him, it was the only way to deal. Keeping it deep, however, was proving all but impossible. Three-plus months. Three-plus months Rowan had been gone, and whoever had said time heals all wounds was full of shit.
“Cam?”
She’d taken another step toward him but was still only halfway to him. She was standing oddly, as if every muscle in her body was strung too tight and on high alert. He realized the wide-eyed look she was wearing meant she was too petrified to walk out on the dock to get closer to him, and yet she was doing it anyway, inch by inch.
For him.
He shook his head. “Go home, Piper. You’ve had a long day, you’re exhausted.”
She swallowed, but didn’t retreat. “Something’s wrong.” Her eyes were now once again locked on his, like he was the only thing keeping her sane, telling him without words what trying to support him was costing her. “I’m coming to get you.”
With a sigh, he rose and met her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he started to lead her back to the shore.
She gulped hard and stopped him. “No. The other way. You weren’t done sitting out there.”
“You sure?”
She nodded, and not about to argue with her, he
walked her to the end of the dock. He once again sat and hung his legs over the side, waiting for her to do the same.
Slowly, arms out, legs bent at the knees like she was a cat on ice skates on linoleum, she lowered herself onto all fours. She paused in that position for a long beat, then finally sat, hugging her knees to her chest.
To her credit, she didn’t push him to talk; she just reached out and took his hand in her clammy one and held tight, whether from sheer terror or wanting to comfort him, he wasn’t sure.
“You seriously swim the lake?” she asked.
“Usually twice.”
She gasped in horror, and in spite of what he was feeling, he smiled. “You think I’m nuts.”
She managed a small smile. “You’re my friend, and no matter what life choices you’ve made, I support you. Even if I think you’re nuts.”
He actually laughed when he hadn’t thought he could, and his frozen heart thawed a little bit. “Thanks for supporting my choices. FYI, I’ve just made another one.” Cupping her face, he kissed her, a soft kiss with a hint of a promise that he hoped she took him up on sometime. But it was her move to make, not his.
She put her hands over his and kept her eyes closed as she slowly pulled back. “You’re good at that. And I’m betting you’re good at all the stuff that goes with it.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
She smiled. “I’d like that. But . . .” She opened her eyes. “Something’s wrong.”
He shrugged. Yeah, there was something wrong with him, probably a whole bunch of things, actually. But he didn’t have words for it right now. So he leaned back and stared at the water.
Piper leaned back too, carefully not looking at the water. “Winnie’s working on the house. And Gavin’s taking on some small jobs.”
“And you’re telling me this because . . . ?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“We are, but I know you now,” he said. “You’re telling me this because you want me to open up as well.”
“Yes.” She smiled, but her eyes remained serious. “Because otherwise I’m risking heart failure for nothing out here.”
She wasn’t joking. He could see her pulse leaping at the hollow of her throat. “I’m fine, Piper.” A lie, of course. He wasn’t fine. He’d been going through Rowan’s things. A macabre task, but his dad had asked him for help packing it all. Memories were one thing. Walking past Rowan’s bedroom every single day, which was practically a shrine to him, was another.
So Cam had taken that task on for his dad, which was how he’d found the engagement ring Rowan had bought to give to Winnie. His chest hurt at the thought. “I packed up Rowan’s things today.”
“Oh, Cam.” Her expression said she was still flipping out on the inside, but she was determined to help him. She scooted closer so that they were thigh to thigh, whispering “Oh my God, oh my God” to herself the whole time, before very slowly lowering her feet over the side of the dock to match his position.
He brought himself out of his own head enough to be impressed. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
“Trying not to die? Then yes, I’m doing exactly what you think I’m doing.” She took a deep gulp of air. “We have this deal, a secret for a secret, right? So . . . I’m going to tell you another secret.”
“Now? While you’re shaking in your boots and trying not to throw up?”
She slid him a look.
He didn’t laugh, because she was serious.
“I’m afraid of the water,” she said.
“Hate to break it to you, but that’s still the same old secret you’ve pawned off on me three times now. I’m beginning to think you’re cheating.”
“Yes, but you asked what happened.” She paused. “I had a near miss here on the lake. Almost drowned.”
Ah, hell. Reaching out, he took her hand in his. “That would do it. When?”
“The year after my parents died. It was my fourteenth birthday party. My grandma had invited all my friends, and we spent the day outside by the lake. We were in canoes. I was with two other girls in one that was meant for only a single occupant.”
“Never good,” he said. “You rolled.”
“Oh, yeah. And panicked. One of the girls who I didn’t know very well held me down. She thought it was funny, but I was a terrible swimmer to begin with . . .” She shook her head. “I got turned upside down and couldn’t figure out which way was up, and I lost it. Spots were dancing around in my eyes, and just before everything went dark, I was scooped up and shoved to the surface.”
“The girl?”
“No. My grandpa.” She smiled a little. “He was sick and had been sitting on the porch of the house. He never paid any attention to us kids, but he had an eagle eye.” She shuddered with the memories. “It was the most terrifying moment of my life.” She paused. “He passed away shortly after that,” she said softly. “And I know it sounds melodramatic, but that was the last time I ever felt really safe.”
He thought about all she’d said, and all she hadn’t said. By age fourteen, she’d lost both of her parents and her grandpa. She’d been helping to raise her two younger siblings.
She’d never had a real childhood.
Chances were, that birthday party was the last time she’d ever been a kid or done something frivolous for herself. He squeezed her hard. “I’m feeling very grateful for your grandpa.”
That got him a small smile. “Me too.”
“And no wonder you hate birthday celebrations.”
She snorted. “No, I hate birthday celebrations because it reminds me that another year’s passed without any headway.”
“Toward what?”
She bit her lower lip.
“Is this about your secret and secret secret lists?” he asked.
“Some,” she admitted. “But now it’s your turn.”
Right. He nodded. Then he said the words that never failed to beat the shit out of him. “The car accident that killed Rowan? I was driving.”
She sucked in a breath. Still clutching his hand in hers, she brought it up to her heart. “Were you badly hurt?”
That her first words were worry for him told him everything he needed to know—she was far too good for him. “Not even a little bit,” he said, hearing the bitterness in his voice.
“Oh, Cam.” And with that, she crawled into his lap and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. Or resist hugging her back. Then she set her head on his shoulder and did one of his favorite things. She let him be with his own thoughts. It was a rare beat of desperately needed quiet, and in that moment she was able to do for him what swimming the lake twice over hadn’t done.
Give him some badly needed peace.
PIPER FELT WHEN some of the terrible tension inside Cam drained a little. Not enough to suit her, though. He couldn’t walk around this way, she thought. It’d kill him.
That she often did the same thing didn’t matter.
He was hurting, and she was someone who at her core wanted, needed, to heal people. She was still on his lap. His arms were loosely around her, her head on his shoulder, his jaw pressed against her hair. She drew a deep breath. “Growing up, there were so many times I wanted to strangle Gavin and/or Winnie. But the truth is, if something had actually happened to one of them . . .” She broke off when her voice cracked and had to clear her throat. “In hindsight, I think those were the moments where love showed the most, because they were the only people who could get beneath my skin and into my heart.”
Cam slid a big, warm hand up her back and into her hair, wrapping it around his fist to tug lightly so he could see her face. “Has anyone else ever gotten beneath your skin?”
Their gazes were locked. No place to hide. “Not since my parents died.”
He nodded, as if she’d simply verified what he’d already suspected, that she’d turned off her heart from further hurt, and she’d been very successful at it.
“It’s a shame,” he sai
d.
“Why?”
“Because I see how fiercely you love.” When she tried to pull free, he tugged a little bit harder, holding her to him. “You’ve got so much love to give, Piper. It’s hard to see you closed off.”
They stared at each other, during which she felt a shift, a cataclysmic one, at least for her. She’d thought of him as the fun-time guy. After all, he was going to leave soon, and hell, for that matter, so was she. They’d probably rarely, if ever, see each other again. Which was why he’d seemed like the perfect distraction.
But in that moment, she felt the lock on her heart loosen, even open, which meant this wasn’t anywhere near as casual as she’d planned.
Cam whispered her name softly, with a longing that stirred her own to an almost unbearable level inside her. And then—she wasn’t sure who moved first—they were kissing, long, lingering kisses with lots of heat and tongue. Her hands tightened on his biceps, then ran up to cup his face before going south and landing on his bare chest.
He froze, then pulled free.
“Oh, crap, sorry.” Mortified by his response to her touch, she tried to scoot away, but his hands were immediately back on her, his voice sounding strained as he held her to him.
“Piper—”
“No.” She covered her face. “Forget it, okay? It’s been a while, and I’m really bad at this part, at reading what a guy’s thinking, and—”
He pulled her hands from her face, so she played a three-year-old and closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” he said, in a voice she imagined he used on his men, because she obediently opened her eyes.
“Are you listening?” he asked very intensely.
Listening. Dying . . . “Yes.”
“Good. I want you, Piper.” He waited for her to realize she was literally up against the proof of that wanting. “Badly. But . . .”
“I’m not a big fan of buts,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Piper, we’re outside.”
“And?”
“And by the time I get you inside, I suspect you’ll have changed your mind.”
“Try me.” She had no idea where those two words came from. No, scratch that. She knew exactly. And she meant them too.
