Staying For You

by Van Wyk, Jennifer

Epilogue

  Cami

  Six Weeks Later

  “I love you.”

  “I love you.” My leg is up on Owen’s shoulder, the good one that doesn’t get looked at later today to make sure he’s completely healed up and he can finally ditch the sling. My other leg is bent, foot planted into the mattress next to my butt at the corner of the bed. How he’s managing it in the cast still on his lower leg is beyond me, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Right now, I don’t either. As long as he’s not in pain or uncomfortable, I’m good with it.

  He drives hard into me, grips my thigh and grunts, repeating himself, “Love you.”

  Since we said the words just last week, we say them often. It’s hard not to when you’re feeling what we’re feeling.

  A deep love that’s meant to last. He’s incredible and has been by my side with every single detail of the case against Scott, which, we have learned, is quite complicated because he’s crossed so many state lines in his path of crimes. Between the assault against Owen in Minnesota, assault on Helen (who thankfully agreed to press charges and even though it was past, because her friends stepped up and said what they saw, she was able to make progress there) in Tennessee, ordering a hit on me with a man who lives in Arizona, and money laundering from my business in Tennessee, he’s got a laundry list of crimes to pay for. Having myself incorporated seemed like a pain in the ass at the time, but since that’s where Scott was stealing and hiding away money from, it turns out that it’s a positive. And when I go back to Tennessee, Owen’s promised to be right there with me.

  Since I arrived back at The Escape, things have moved quickly. And that’s fine with me. My heart had been divorced long ago, so even though technically it’s just recent, I don’t feel like I’ve rushed into a new relationship.

  We have Helen staying in the cabin I spent my weeks in, and eventually, if it comes to that, she’ll move into a two-bedroom cabin so she has room for the baby. While Owen and I are progressing together quickly, things with Helen haven’t moved forward. She’s confused, scared, and unsure of her next steps. We both understand that and are here just to offer up support however we can.

  She’s a hard worker and loves to clean and said she wouldn’t stay here for nothing. If she was going to get something, she was going to give in return. Her return is helping out by cleaning cabins and greeting guests, checking them in. She also has quite the green thumb and loves to plant flowers so she has been using those skills to really make The Escape look beautiful. Owen told her to “have at it” and she did. Went a little hog wild with his credit card at the nursery but he didn’t even blink an eye. Just smiled at her and said to have fun and right then I fell a little more in love with him.

  It might seem strange, that I would accept her so easily. But she came to me, open and honest about where she’d screwed up. Laid it all on the line and was up front about her mistakes. Owned them and apologized. To me, that says a lot about a person’s character. She wasn’t on my doorstep asking for a handout or wanting me to help her in any way. She was there because she needed to be rid of the guilt that was plaguing her.

  She made a mistake, just like every single person walking this earth has done also. Just like I have done many times and will continue to do many more. What kind of person would I be if I just turned her away without listening and hearing her side of the story?

  And besides, Owen and I both believe that actions speak louder than words and right now, her actions are speaking volumes. So is the smile on her face every time she’s working hard.

  Owen hits a spot that sends me almost tipping over the edge but not quite. He doesn’t want me there just yet and he knows how to prolong the orgasm and hold me back.

  “Fuck, you feel good,” he growls, gripping my thigh a little harder. I might have a mark from it and I’m totally okay with that.

  I moan, slide my hands up his firm stomach and grip his strong chest, lifting my hips just a fraction of an inch in the process.

  “The best,” I mutter and pant then I feel his hips drive even harder into me again and I’m soaring. Loving every single second of the way he can make me feel.

  He moans and then calls out my name on a shout before he powers into me through his release, drawing my own out.

  We get our breathing under control then he pulls out, letting me quickly make my way to the bathroom while clutching everything tight so I don’t leak everywhere. He cleans himself up with a towel then hobbles into the bathroom on his crutches.

  It’s funny how comfortable we are around each other. He washes his hands while I continue cleaning up then I step into the shower. He brushes his teeth and then stays to talk to me while I shampoo and condition my hair.

  When I got back to The Escape, it took us both a few days to be ready to have sex again. Me, because my head was rushing off in so many different directions. Him, because he needed to be sure that I was with him. That he and I were on the same page.

  We talked. A lot. A lot a lot. To the point where I was annoyed with talking.

  To get my point across, I barged into his bedroom one morning and straddled him, waking him up with my mouth, kissing every inch of skin I could before he stopped me with his hands around my biceps. He stared up into my eyes, my blue clashing with his hazel, and whatever he saw in my blue made him grin that lazy, cute grin I damn near fell in love with at first sight and he pulled my head down to meet his lips.

  We came together hard and fast that first time we found each other again. Clothes getting ripped off and tossed in every corner of his bedroom. He made me climb up his body, straddle his face and then he reminded me how good he is between my legs. How magical his tongue is, especially when he combines it with the use of his thumb on my clit or thumb and finger pinching my nipple. He knows how to work my body and what I love most.

  And now, it’s been a month. We know what we both want. My house is on the market in Tennessee and has several showings happening this week. My family might still live there, but my home is in Northern Minnesota. It has been since the day I walked into that McDonald’s three months ago.

  “I was thinking we’d put some steaks on the grill tonight. Celebrate my cast coming off in a few hours. Sound good?”

  “Sounds delicious.” And I’m hoping, that after tonight when he gets full use of both legs back, we’ll be able to have some more fun. Though, I can’t say as though either of us have been deprived of anything, either.

  “Sawyer’s coming out. Said he’d bring some salad.”

  I laugh as I scrub my scalp. “Of course he did. Man is too healthy for his own good. I’d love to see him eat some ice cream just once.”

  Owen chuckles and waits while I rinse my hair. “He also offered to bring that Reese’s peanut butter cup pie you and Helen were telling us about. I guess he watched how to make it after you two wouldn’t stop going on and on about it.”

  I stop what I’m doing and push open the shower door.

  “He made it?”

  He grins, trying not to laugh. “He did.”

  I’m standing in front of him, mouth gaping open and completely naked. He can’t join me because his cast isn’t covered right now and the way his eyes are heating tells me that fact pisses him off. He watches as water slides down my wet, naked body and suddenly I’m wet in other places. Again. Especially since he’s only in his black boxers and I can see all those ridges on his stomach I love to run my tongue over, the bulge of his biceps as his hands grip the countertop behind him, and the strength of his thighs that are crossed over each other.

  I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of Owen. Sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Best man I’ve ever known right next to my father. He’s everything I could ask for in a man and every single day I send up my thanks for him.

  “Because of…”

  He raises his eyes from where he was focused on my breasts. Grins at being caught. “Helen? I’m not sure.”

  We have our theories. That they have a thing for each other. But ne
ither will fess up to that. Plus, with Helen being pregnant with another man’s kid, a man who Sawyer is in the process of helping put away for a very, very long time, things are a bit complicated on that front. And, she’s fifteen years younger than him. There’s a lot against them if they decide to pursue anything.

  “Hmm.” I shut the door, finish my shower, and turn off the water then begin drying off. I wrap the towel around me and knot it in place then step out of the shower. Going through the routine of brushing out my wet hair and applying lotion, Owen watches me. He has since the first morning I woke up here after I returned. And I’ve woken up in his bed every morning since.

  We never discussed living together.

  It just happened.

  And I’m so happy, sometimes I feel like I could burst.

  “I love you,” he says quietly from his place against the counter.

  “I love you, too.”

  He grins and I grin back. I keep applying lotion and he keeps watching me.

  And I hope to wake up every morning for the rest of my life in the exact same way. Well, all except his cast.

  Extended Epilogue

  Owen

  Everything’s ready to go. It’s planned out perfectly.

  The fire on the sandy beach is burning bright. Chairs set up around the fire ring, aimed in the direction of the fire so we can settle in after the big event. Cuddle in close and relax. Hold each other.

  It’s late August and the mosquitos have finally given up their heavy pursuit against the human skin, giving us a few glorious weeks to spend our evenings outdoors without four layers of bug spray coating our skin.

  Walking back to the lodge to collect Cami, I look to the cabin where Helen is still staying. I noticed Sawyer’s enormous pickup parked in front of her cabin earlier today and when I get a glance inside through the screened in porch, I see his large frame holding her tiny baby boy. He’s been a constant in her life since the day she arrived and even though they swear they’re just friends, I wonder what will come of it.

  Scott’s officially in prison for life. After his mom had a tearful confession, because he told her every single thing he’d been up to, everything moved quickly. She also was charged with obstruction of justice and a few other things. Basically, if she would have told someone what her son had been up to rather than trying to protect him, her life would be a heck of a lot easier right now. But, once a helicopter parent always a helicopter parent, it seems, and until she was pushed to her limit, she held fast to her stories that tagged him as a decent person.

  I climb the stairs to our apartment, I open the door to see Cami on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, hands to the keyboard typing away. I shake my head at her and leave her to it. She didn’t even raise her eyes to me, so I know she’s in the middle of writing something she won’t want to quit.

  I grab a cold beer from the fridge and pop the cap off, tossing it in the trash, then I lift my shirt to wipe my brow with the hem of it. I’m just taking my first big swig when I feel her eyes on me. I lower the bottle slowly but not my shirt. I’m not an idiot. She loves my stomach and the work I put into keeping it in the shape that it’s in. I’ll spend hours every day working to keep this body up if it means she’ll continue to look at me the way she does.

  I smirk when she licks her lips, not even realizing yet that she’s been caught staring. Though, neither of us shy away from it when we get caught. Which we both do. Often.

  I let my shirt slide down and take another swig of my beer then carry it into the bathroom so I can wash my face and hands.

  I’m leaning over the sink, hands full of water when I hear the door open. Trying to keep the smile off my face because I know she’s trying to be sneaky, I keep doing what I’m doing as if I don’t hear a thing. She slips in behind me and my arms shoot back, wet hands gripping her forearms as I tug her around and adjust my hold on her, setting her on the counter. She immediately opens her legs for me, letting me slide between them.

  “You knew exactly what you were doing out there just now,” she says breathlessly when I immediately attack her neck with my mouth. There’s rarely a day that goes by that we don’t have sex of some form. We’re still just as hungry for each other as we were in the beginning when we were foolishly committed to only being friends with benefits. What a joke that was.

  “And?” I prompt, daring her to say she doesn’t love it.

  “Nothing. Just… if you’re going to put your body on display like that, you need to be prepared for the consequences.”

  “Best punishment ever, then.”

  “Right,” she croaks out when I tip her back, lift her shirt, and suck lightly on her hard nipple. Her hands slip beneath the cotton of my t-shirt and glide over my stomach, around to my ass where she squeezes and then back to the front.

  Yanking her off the counter, she yelps in surprise when I spin her around again so she’s facing the mirror. I grind myself against her ass and she moans, whispering my name. Together we work at removing her jean shorts and underwear, both completely worked up to the point where nothing else matters right now but me being inside her. I tip her head back with my hand under her chin, my thumb against her lips. She opens her mouth and sucks on my thumb, nipping at the tip of it and giving me goose bumps. She reaches around and starts to work on my jeans and that’s where everything stops.

  Her mouth opens and I slide my thumb out, letting it make a trail down her throat. “What’s this?”

  I still, not wanting to move a muscle. “Nothing.”

  “Owen? What’s in your pants?”

  “You know exactly what’s in my pants,” I try to deflect by pointing out what she was originally going for, rather than finding what I was stupid enough to keep “hidden” in my jeans pocket.

  “Owen?” Her hand has stopped moving now and she’s staring at me through the mirror, tears building in her beautiful eyes.

  I drop my forehead, resting it between her shoulder blades and take a deep breath.

  “Sweetheart,” I mutter, knowing damn good and well that I’m caught and suddenly nervous about it. She’ll either be all about it or think I’m crazy.

  “Owen,” she mutters in return and turns around to face me.

  “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

  “Do what?” she asks but I can tell she knows. Standing in front of me in her shirt with no bra, me with not one but two bulges in my pants, I make a decision.

  Nothing about our relationship has been perfect from the start and look where we are now.

  Slowly, I drop to my knee and just like I knew they would, her eyes fill with tears and her hands move to cover her mouth.

  Looking up at her, I smirk. “Usually when I’m down here and you don’t have pants on, I have other plans.”

  A giggle bursts out of her and she slaps my shoulder. “Owen!”

  “Sorry. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Maybe I should have you put on some pants, though. This is incredibly distracting.”

  “Maybe you should show me what you’re hiding in your pocket before I lose my mind then maybe after I receive whatever’s in that pocket you’ll be glad I’m not wearing any pants.”

  “Point taken.”

  I dig into my front pocket and pull out the small velvet box and she gasps.

  “Oh, stop. It’s not like you didn’t know exactly what was in there,” I tease.

  “Owen. Stop being such a meanie!”

  “Meanie? What are we, five?”

  “Owen!” She’s getting angry now and I kind of love it.

  I grin and open up the box and she gasps again.

  “See, this is the perfect time to gasp. Because you haven’t seen what was inside yet.”

  She reaches out a finger and touches the vintage ring that’s nestled in the velvet. I know she’s never seen it because I just picked it up this morning. I first saw it about a month ago when I wasn’t even looking for one but the second I laid eyes on this ring, I knew it was perfect for her.

/>   “It was my great, great grandmother’s on my mother’s side.”

  Her eyes fly up to mine when I continue to explain the story behind the ring. “She wore it when she migrated here from Greece. The center stone was lost, unfortunately, so that’s new. But the ring itself, the setting and all the smaller diamonds in the band are from her.”

  “When did you…”

  “When we were visiting last month for my mom’s birthday.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Mom asked me if I planned to marry you and I let her know that was the plan. She made me follow her to her room and showed me the ring. Said that it was always in the plan for me to have it when I found the right woman to give it to. I even have a letter from my great, great grandmother for us to read together. I haven’t looked at it yet. Mom had to have it translated because it was in Greek.

  “The next day when you thought Dad and I were off doing “guy things” which is weird because you never even asked what that meant — we brought the ring to town and had the jeweler take a look. I picked out a new diamond, told them your ring size and then it was shipped here today.”

  “That’s why you had to go to town?”

  “That’s why.”

  “How’d you know my ring size?”

  “Gretchen. She’s a wealth of information when it comes to you.”

  She giggles and nods.

  “Camilla Moore. I love you so much. You’ve humbled me and shown me what it means to be with the one who’s meant to be yours. I can’t imagine a life without you in it. You’re the most loving, caring, kind, and beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you, Cami, marry me?”

  “Uh huh,” she says, nodding and crying. Tears are flowing down her cheeks and her hand is trembling as she reaches it out, presenting me with her finger.

  “I’m sorry you’re not the first one to put a ring on my finger.”

  I slide it on and kiss her knuckle before standing. “Don’t be sorry. He brought you to me.”