by Jill Shalvis
Everyone stared at each other.
“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Gavin said, after the awkward beat of silence. “Rowan’s official funeral was back East, and some of us didn’t get to go. We’re not trying to break any laws here, we’re just trying to honor a kid who died way too young in the best way we know how.”
CJ looked at Gavin for a long beat, and then turned to the rest of them. “As I said, you need a permit. Unfortunately, if you don’t have one, and someone, say a bored old woman with a powerful set of binoculars, turns you in, there’s a big fine. But if that bored old woman happens to receive a visit from a local cop in the next few minutes, who stops by to tell her everything’s fine on the lake’s perimeter, that there’s no alien invasion, and then possibly agrees to her offer of tea so that she’s busy and distracted for the next hour, then no harm, no foul.”
Gavin watched him leave, something in his expression speaking of a whole lot of pain that had nothing to do with Rowan. Then he nodded at Winnie to continue, who clutched the canister and looked to the water below.
“Hey, Rowan,” she whispered, eyes already wet as she pulled a handwritten note from her pocket. “I know, two good-byes and you hate good-byes. But I needed to tell you a couple of things.” She read from her notes. “First . . . I don’t think I appreciated you enough. Actually, I know I didn’t. I mean, who else could I have called in the middle of the night about a june bug in my room? You drove two hours to come save me.” She sniffed and lost her battle with her tears, but she kept reading. Not that Cam could understand a single word of it, and given the look on everyone’s faces, they couldn’t either.
He really wanted to close himself off to her heartfelt, raw grief. Instead, he held his hand out for the paper.
With gratitude, she handed it over, and as he began to speak her words for her, she dropped her head to his chest and sobbed.
“‘You always said I needed to reach for the stars,’” he read, his throat on fire as he held her close with one arm. “‘And I want you to know, Rowan, I’m going to keep trying. For you. Thanks for being my ride or die. I’ll never forget you.’”
“That’s sweet, Win,” Piper whispered.
Winnie lifted her head and gave her a soggy, grateful smile.
Cam handed her back the note and gently took the canister, looking down at all that was left of his brother. His heart was still beating in that heavy thumping rhythm from a grief he hadn’t been able to let go of, didn’t know if he’d ever be able to let go. Drawing a deep breath, he stared sightless at the water below, but what he saw was himself on the asphalt that night, holding a dying Rowan, the rain falling on their faces. “I dream about the car accident every night,” he said.
He felt Piper’s hand on his arm, and when he met her gaze, hers was filled with way too much sympathy and understanding, neither of which he deserved.
“We’d fought,” he said through an impossibly tight throat. “He’d been drinking and was acting”—he shook his head—“like Rowan. He could find a good time in doing absolutely nothing, and I snapped.” He knew he had to do this, had to say it all or he’d never be able to live with himself. “We got into it.” And a lot of that had been because Cam was mad that Rowan had ruined some girl’s life getting her pregnant so young, not that he could say that since Piper still didn’t know. “I called him immature and ungrateful and lazy. I told him he needed to grow the fuck up. And he”—he forced himself to look at Winnie and his dad—“he told me to stop being a controlling asshole.”
His dad made a rough sound deep in his throat, but Cam wasn’t sure if it was agreement or anger. He deserved the anger.
Winnie simply closed her eyes.
He didn’t dare look at Piper, couldn’t face what she must be thinking of him. But nor could he stop now, not until he got it all out. “After we yelled at each other, he tried to leave. He wanted to go home, and instead of making him stay, I drove him to the airport. We didn’t make it halfway before—” He broke off and clamped his jaw tight to try to not lose his shit completely.
“No,” Winnie said. “That’s not on you.” She turned him to face her. “You knew Rowan, he was stubborn as hell. He was pissy because he knew you were right. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened.”
Squeezing her hand, he looked down at the canister. “We all miss you,” he said and closed his eyes.
At his side, Piper wrapped an arm around him. Winnie was still holding on to him from the other side. But it was his dad who stepped right in front of him, eyes wet, voice raw. “As a dad, as your dad, I want to demand something of you right here, right now. I know I have no right, but I’m going to do it anyway.”
Cam braced for his dad to agree that he was at fault.
But that wasn’t what happened. His dad reached up and cupped Cam’s face. “Winnie said it best. Rowan wouldn’t have blamed you, son. And neither do I. No one blames you for what happened that night. No one. We’re just grateful you’re alive, so fucking grateful. So even though there’s nothing to forgive, you’re forgiven anyway. Now all you have to do is forgive yourself. Something I know a little bit about after giving you up to your mom. Forgiving myself for that was a long time coming, and if I’m being honest, I haven’t really managed it fully.”
“Dad.” He shook his head. “It’s okay.”
His dad pressed their foreheads together. “It’s getting there.”
When Emmitt finally let him go and stepped back, Cam swiped his eyes with his forearm, opened the canister, and . . . let Rowan go.
When it was done, Winnie took the canister and clutched it to her chest as they all watched the ashes slowly vanish from view. “Now he’ll always be here with us,” she said softly.
Piper wrapped her arms around Cam, and just like when his dad had touched him, it warmed him. He dropped his head to her shoulder and did something he’d never done in his life.
Took comfort from another human being.
They stood there for a long time, but eventually they all walked home, where Gavin made baked mac and cheese from scratch. And hot dogs. “To eat this time, not throw,” he said. “And there’s chocolate cake for dessert. Comfort food, from the heart.”
The food and company were exactly that, comforting, but halfway through the cake, it happened. He’d been ignoring the signs, the metallic taste in his mouth, the odd aura of lights flashing in his peripheral vision. But suddenly he could no longer ignore it, or the staggering pain. He managed to get to his feet, knowing what he needed, but he’d waited too long.
“What’s wrong?” Piper asked, standing with him, taking his hand, looking concerned.
He opened his mouth to answer, but it felt like someone was stabbing a hot poker into his left eyeball, robbing him of thoughts and the ability to speak.
“Migraine,” Emmitt said, eyes on Cam. “They’re rare, but he gets them when he’s stressed. He needs a quiet dark room, no noise.”
“Just going to go home,” Cam murmured, eyes squinted because it hurt to open them all the way. Both cold and sweating, he had to put a hand on the wall to keep the world from spinning, which pissed him off. He’d learned through some seriously brutal military training how to let pain course through him on its way out of his body, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel every inch of it as it went.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Piper said. “Not when you can barely stand. I’ve got you this time, Cam.”
Having her say that was staggering. No one had ever said such a thing to him. “I just need to sleep it off.” He turned to the door.
But Piper had a grip of steel on him. “No way.”
He knew he was going to give in, mostly because he was going to pass out. “Bossy,” he murmured. And also smart as hell, resourceful, resilient, tough as nails, and she never failed to brighten his day or make him smile. And since he couldn’t imagine making it home, he let her take his hand and pull him out of the kitchen.
She took him to her bedroom. Without turn
ing on the lights, she led him to the bed before unbuttoning his shirt. She pushed it off his shoulders and nudged him to sit on the bed, where he narrowly missed squishing Sweet Cheeks.
“Meow,” she said in bitchy protest, and jumped down. Which was a hell of a lot better than their first interaction had gone.
Cam bent to untie his boots, but his fingers felt wooden.
“Here,” Piper said. “I’ve got it.” And dropped to her knees to tug them off one by one.
He let out a careful breath. “Not exactly what I imagined you doing when I got you into this position.”
A smile curved her lips, but her eyes remained worried as she lifted her head. “You imagined me on my knees for you?”
“Once or twice.” Or every other minute of the day . . . He let himself fall onto his back when she got his boots off, too shaky to do more. “But just so you don’t think I’m a misogynist pig, in my fantasies, I go to my knees and do you first.”
She let out a quiet laugh, which said she liked the sound of that. Leaning over him, her face came into view. “Don’t move.” Then she pulled off his pants.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think I’m up to the task right now,” he managed, his voice already hoarse and rough with the impending freight train in his head.
She gave a soft snort and brushed a warm hand over his cold, clammy forehead before covering him with a light blanket. “You can owe me. Where are your meds?”
“Got ’em.” Gavin came quietly into the room with a pill bottle and water. “Emmitt told me where you keep them. Said you needed to take ’em right away or they won’t work.” He was breathless, as he’d clearly run his ass off to get to their house and back in the time he had.
Cam downed the pills and a very small bit of water, not wanting to throw them up. “Thanks.” The only way to get through a migraine was to sleep through it, if he could. Thanks to the military, he could fall asleep at will.
As he drifted off, he heard Gavin ask, “Is he okay?”
“He will be,” Piper said, with the same determination she used both on her job and in her personal life.
A personal life that now included him.
He hadn’t gone looking for this, for her. But he couldn’t have known he’d come home to help his dad deal with the unexpected blow of losing a son, only to also fall in love. With Wildstone. With the people.
With Piper . . .
It wasn’t just the off-the-charts sex either, although that was a pretty great perk. But earlier at Rowan’s makeshift service, she’d been there for him when he hadn’t even realized he’d needed her.
And she was still there, sitting silently at his side in the dark, watching over him, making sure he was okay.
No one had ever taken care of him like this, not without wanting or expecting something in return. He had zero idea what to do with that, but he thought maybe he could get into trying to figure it out.
Chapter 24
“I think the words you’re looking for are wow and amazing.”
Piper woke to her name being said in a gruff whisper.
Cam.
She shot straight up in the chair she’d fallen asleep in, the one she kept near her bed as more of a clean-clothes holder than a place to sit. Her journal fell out of her lap and hit the floor.
It was still dark.
Reaching out with surprising strength, Cam grabbed her hand. “Why are you sleeping in the chair?”
“I wanted to stay close in case you needed me.” It’d clearly been a bad migraine, really bad, and she hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. She’d done some research and had been making a list in her journal of things she could do to ease his pain. Standing up, she brushed her free hand over his forehead, relieved to find him mildly warm now, not cold and clammy as he’d been. “Is the pain gone?”
“Mostly.” He paused. “Not used to being babied.”
She snorted. “I’m not babying you.”
“You did. All night. And don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. But something’s wrong. You’re treating me with kid gloves.”
She hesitated, because he was right. She’d treated him with kid gloves ever since the service yesterday.
With a speed and force she hadn’t thought possible, he tugged her onto the bed, rolled, and had her beneath him, framing her face with his forearms, his fingers in her hair. “Why?” he repeated.
“Not kid gloves,” she said. “Not exactly.”
“Then what?” He frowned. “Is it because of what happened between us?”
She blinked. “Are you referring to the thing we keep . . . accidentally doing on your boat?”
His eyes darkened and heated. “I’ll never drive that thing again without fantasizing about what’s happened there. I might turn it into a shrine.”
Lava coursed through her limbs and she had to shake it off. “That’s not why I . . . treated you different.”
“Then why?”
How to explain? She fiddled with the blanket until he put his hand over hers. “Talk to me, Piper.”
“I’ve been complaining about my siblings since we met,” she said. “And then yesterday, I heard your heart-wrenching story about the accident with Rowan.” It’d wrecked her.
He shook his head. “I fucked up with Rowan. I didn’t, and don’t, deserve your sympathy.”
“You’re wrong. And all I want to do is help ease your pain. Are you telling me you wouldn’t feel the same if our situations were reversed?”
He stared at her, his eyes much clearer than they’d been even a minute ago. At his continued silence, she gave him a small “told you” smile.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’d do anything to take away your pain.”
At his incredibly serious and intense tone, she sucked in a breath while he stared at her some more.
“I need you,” he said softly.
She rocked a little against the undeniable proof. “Need? Or want?”
“Both. Am I alone on this edge with you?”
“No.” The word was barely a whisper, but she couldn’t have held it back.
“Is your door locked?”
“Yes, why?”
Dipping his head, he kissed the hollow of her throat, then made his way to her ear, which he nibbled. “Because I’m about to thank you for watching over me,” he whispered, his voice and stubble both giving gave her a full body shiver. “And I’m going to be very thorough in giving thanks.”
“Cam.” Her hands slid into his hair as he kissed his way south. “You should really rest—” She broke off with a low moan when he pushed her shirt up out of his way to capture a breast with his mouth. “Um—”
“You don’t understand . . .” Apparently her shirt had to go because he tugged it off. “No one’s ever taken care of me before, not like you did.”
She tried to think about what he was saying, tried to grasp the meaning behind it, but suddenly she was naked and he was sliding down her body, his hands on her thighs as he looked his fill. Then he locked eyes with her again. “Pretty,” he breathed, and used his mouth to tour her body, mapping it. Every inch.
“Piper.”
The full-body Cam experience was incredibly distracting. “Hmm?”
“You with me?”
“Are you kidding me? When I’m with you like this, I can’t think of anything else, even if I wanted to.”
“Good.” He bent his head to her again, his mission clear. When his mouth touched her, heat exploded deep inside, melting everything else away as he performed his special brand of fire and magic. She already knew he liked to touch and taste, and especially liked to linger.
She had zero complaints.
By the time she could once again drag air into her taxed lungs, she was sprawled out, boneless and sated, making contented, purring happy kitten noises.
They dozed, until Piper jerked awake from the realization that she was feeling things she’d never let herself feel before. Terrifying, because this wasn’t real, it w
as temporary—
A pair of arms closed around her and she startled. Cam turned her around to face him and kissed her forehead. “You okay?”
Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she just breathed him in for a long moment, willing herself to let go of the worry and angst about what was to come, and just live in the here and now. The future would be what it would be. No use spoiling the present, since it happened to be pretty damn awesome at the moment.
“Very okay,” she whispered, brushing a kiss to his throat.
He took a deep breath and his arms tightened a little, his hand tracing circles over her back, reassuring. Comforting. And she wondered how it was that he always knew what she needed before even she did.
THE NEXT TIME she woke up, she was alone and a little befuddled. The sun was trying to burn her eyelids. Sitting up, she looked at her clock. Dawn had come and gone—three hours ago. She was alone, vaguely remembering Cam pressing a kiss to a bare shoulder, saying something about needing to get to the marina to help his dad because they were busy on Sundays.
She’d gone back to sleep.
She never went back to sleep.
She got up, wrapped herself in a blanket, and felt like a zombie as she staggered to the kitchen toward the scent of coffee. This meant going through the living room, where she jolted to a halt at the sight of Gavin letting a man out the front door.
Ry.
She nearly fell over trying to back up out of sight, but her inadvertent “oh shit” had both men turning toward her.
Gavin’s brows went up.
Her ex took a slow sweep of her and said, “About time.”
This from the guy who’d once claimed to love her, but had also said she was emotionally deficient. And for a long time Piper had believed him.
Until maybe right now.
Because she was beginning to realize she wasn’t emotionally deficient, at least not with the right guy. She had no idea why she hadn’t been able to let Ry in. He was charismatic, fun to be with, charming as hell . . . But something about his easy availability—and in turn, the ease with which he’d walked away when she’d broken up with him—had closed her off.
