by Skylar Hill
“That’s very sweet, Aiden. It means a lot to me,” Cam said. “Well… I’d suggest we go out to lunch, but I’ve got an appointment in a half hour.”
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Lydia said. “Aiden promised me breakfast anyway, and he hasn’t followed through yet.”
Lydia paused in the doorway, looking her up and down, her arched brows drawing together. “Cam, are you okay?” she asked. “I can stay… we can talk about this some more?”
Cam shook her head. “Everything’s fine,” she said brightly. “I appreciate you wrangling Aiden,” she added in an undertone.
Lydia grinned as she turned to go. “You’ve just gotta know how to handle him,” she said, seemingly unaware of the innuendo. In any other circumstance, Cam would be amused at her friend’s level of denial about Aiden McGowan, but she had too much on her mind right now.
“I’ll see you soon,” Cam said, waving them down the stairs.
As she got dressed and did her makeup, she did give into her urges and texted James.
Aiden came over and explained what happened. I’m so sorry again for not believing you. Could we do dinner tonight, maybe? Let me know.
Her Uber arrived before James had texted back, and she grabbed her purse and hurried downstairs to get in it.
She just needed to get through this lunch. Then she’d have a better idea of what to do.
Then she could go to James and… what?
Confess? Tell him all her secrets? Unburden all her ugly truths on him?
Her stomach fell, that familiar fear sparking inside her as she wondered if she was strong enough.
She would have to be. Somehow. Because if she was right, there were dark days ahead.
Chapter Nine
James
“Wow, you look horrible,” Tasha said as James sat down across from her at the Screen Door, a Southern-inspired restaurant that had the best biscuits in town. It was bustling round the clock, but Tasha had managed to snag a table near the back, where it was quieter. The two of them had an appointment to look at tile samples for the Exile Ink bathrooms.
“Rough night,” he said, taking a long drink of the coffee she’d ordered for him.
“Doesn’t look like it was the fun kind of rough night,” Tasha remarked, leaning back in her chair.
James rubbed a hand over his face. His beard was getting wild—even for his standards. The waitress came by, and they ordered their food. As soon as she left, Tasha’s focus went back on him.
“What’s up?” she asked.
He looked over at her. Tasha was the only one of his friends who’d ever been married. Who’d found someone she loved enough to take that leap. They had actually met through her husband, Marcus, all those years ago. When Marcus had died, just three months after being diagnosed with brain cancer, James wasn’t sure how Tasha found the strength to go on.
“How did you know?” he asked. “That Marcus was the one for you?”
Something flickered in her dark eyes, a sadness that made him feel guilty for even asking. It’d been eight years since she’d lost him, but that kind of loss…it was immeasurable. “It’s going to sound silly,” she said, and a small smile tugged on her deep, oxblood-red lips as she thought back. “But it was a picture book.”
“A picture book?” James echoed.
“When I was little, I found this picture book in the library about a little mouse who lives in the woods and has adventures. I loved this book, but we barely had money for a bus ticket to the library, let alone an actual book. By the time I was old enough to afford sentimental stuff like that, I’d forgotten the title. Marcus and I went into a used bookstore on our second date, and I just mentioned the book in passing. You know, one of those little anecdotes you give out on those first few dates, trying to fill the nervous silence when you really like someone?”
James smiled, knowing that feeling well.
“Anyway, six or seven months later, he comes over and hands me this package,” Tasha says, the fondness in her voice making his heart twist, because he could see the two of them in his mind’s eye: his two friends, young and in love, not knowing that in just a few years cancer was going to part them, rob them of each other forever. “And it’s the book. The Country Mouse’s Tall Tail. He’d gone to a dozen different used bookstores, describing the story to the booksellers, until he found someone who knew the title. It was out of print by then, but he tracked down a signed copy online.”
“He was always determined,” James said.
Tasha’s eyes glittered. “I sat there for a moment overwhelmed. It was like in finding the book… he found me. I looked up from those pages, and in the next breath, I asked him to marry me.”
“I didn’t realize you proposed,” James said with a surprised laugh.
“Damn right,” Tasha said, blinking a little too hard, and James had the grace to look at his feet for a moment so she could collect herself. He knew she didn’t like crying in front of people. “There’s a moment,” she finally said, her words steady and knowing. “When the piece of you that you thought was missing is given back in the form of a person. A soul mate. And you just… you feel it. You know it. In every molecule of your body, you’re sure.”
He realized, too late, he was nodding along to her words. Because he knew exactly what she was describing.
It had happened so fast with Cam. That first day when she’d taken his hand in the diner, his photos scattered between them. She’d understood him. The loss that had rocked him. That had left a hole in him.
And every day since, her presence, her laughter, her sweetness, and her strength had filled that hole.
He was terrified he’d lost that. That he’d lost her.
“You want to tell me what’s this all about?” Tasha asked.
“We had a fight.”
Tasha raised a pierced eyebrow. “You and Cam?”
He nodded. “It turned into this giant mess. A few months ago—back when we first met, her little sister was in a car accident and I had Aiden call in a favor to get her the best surgeon in Portland.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Except it turns out Evie—that’s Cam’s sister—is this scientific whiz kid a la Aiden, and the two of them are like Big Geek and Little Geek now,” James continued.
Tasha frowned. “Aiden doesn’t go for younger women, though,” she said, lowering her voice as the waitress brought by their food. Tasha’s Bananas Foster French toast looked amazing, and his shrimp and grits—his go-to dish when he went to the Screen Door—was piping hot and fragrant.
“It’s not like that,” James said as the waitress left. “Aiden’s mentoring her. She solved this big mathematical problem for him, and he thinks she has potential. I’m pretty sure he’s going to give her a job when she graduates.”
“Aiden rarely thinks that highly of someone,” Tasha pointed out. “Evie must be amazing.”
“Evie’s great,” James replied. “She’s been interning at Green Valley and doing an excellent job. But then Aiden had to fuck everything up by not only paying off her medical bills, but swooping in and covering her college, too.”
Tasha let out a low whistle and then took a bite of her French toast. “Did he do that without telling Cam?”
“Or me,” James said, still feeling pissed about that. For someone so smart, Aiden could be pretty damn stupid sometimes.
“Oh boy,” Tasha said. “That’s… that’s bad.”
“Cam was furious. At first, she thought it was me because of a misunderstanding at the doctor. Now she knows it’s Aiden who did it. But she wants to have dinner tonight and I’m afraid…” he trailed off.
“Afraid of… what?” Tasha prompted. She sighed, leaning her elbows on the table, leveling him with a look. “That she’ll break up with you?”
“Can I ask what you would do if you were in her place?” James asked.
Tasha smiled, her lip ring glinting in the light. There was a bit of bitter knowing in that smile as she
said, “Are you asking me because you knew I grew up poor as hell too?”
“I… maybe a little,” James sighed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Tasha said. “I’m not ashamed of it. Look, I don’t know Cam’s full history. What it was like for her. I’m not, like, the authority on growing up poor. But what Aiden did? On one hand, it’s an incredibly sweet gesture. But you’ve got to understand what it might look like to someone like Cam or me. Someone who didn’t grow up with money. It’s a pride thing. Like he thought she couldn’t take care of Evie. Or like she needs his charity. And she might worry you feel the same.”
“I don’t, Tasha,” James said. “I admire her so much for everything she’s done for Evie. Cam was only eighteen when her mom died, and Evie was barely a teenager. Can you imagine dealing with losing your mom and becoming the guardian for your baby sister at the same time? Sometimes I think about what it must’ve been like for the two of them, and it’s so impressive where they are right now. And it’s because they both worked damn hard to get there.”
“Then tell her that,” Tasha said, with a fond expression shining in her eyes. “James, if you’re just honest, if you tell her what’s in your heart, it will be okay. I know you like to take care of your people. I mean, look at Exile Ink,” she said. “You’ve created a place for all of us to express ourselves through ink. A creative space for both the artist and the client. It’s collaboration and commerce and community and family. That’s who you are, James. You’re always taking care of everyone. You will go all out for the woman you love. And you do love her, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. Cam had stirred something deep inside him from the start, and the feeling had just grown and grown. It was encompassing, consuming, filling him with a roaring, protective fire that echoed the words mine and yours and forever inside him. “But I’m worried this might break us.”
“If she wants to meet and talk, there’s still a very good chance,” Tasha told him. “Fighting for her might be the best thing you ever do. Because if she’s the one for you? If she’s it for you? The epic love of your life? You need to make sure you don’t lose her. Because losing that kind of love?” Her voice trembled. “I don’t recommend it,” she said finally.
James reached over and squeezed her hand, the one that still wore her wedding band. He knew she was thinking about Marcus. She gave him back a shaky smile.
“I miss him,” James said.
“Me too,” Tasha said, in a practiced way that took none of the deep meaning from her words.
“Do you ever…” James paused, not knowing how to say it. “You still don’t date,” he finally said, carefully, aware he might be crossing a boundary.
“I know,” Tasha sighed. “He’d be so mad. He hated the idea of me grieving him forever. He would’ve wanted me to find someone.”
“But you’ve never tried.”
Tasha shook her head. “I’m not sure anyone’s blessed enough to get that kind of love twice. The one that changes you and shapes you and marks you body and soul. It seems absurd I got that once, even for the handful of years Marcus and I had before he died. Finding that again? I’m not sure it’s possible. And after you’ve had that, anything else pales in comparison. So I don’t date. It just seems pointless.”
“Are you lonely?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” Tasha said. “But a lot less since I decided to come up here. When you called… I felt like it was kismet. Perfect timing. A new challenge, working with old friends in this beautiful city? How could I say no?”
“I’m glad you’re here,” James said.
“Me too,” she said. “Now, do you want me to help you pick out clothes for your dinner with Cam tonight?” Her eyes lit up with glee. “I’ve been dying to replace all those flannel shirts of yours.”
James looked down at his phone. “Oh, look at the time,” he said with exaggerated focus. “We’ll be late for our meeting with the tile guy.”
Tasha laughed, signaling the waitress for the bill. “One of these days, I’m going to revamp your closet, McGowan. Just you wait.”
Chapter Ten
Cam
Cam scanned the restaurant, looking for a tousled head of blond hair. When she spotted him, she waved and headed across the restaurant floor to him.
“Russ!” she said as a tall, Viking-like man rose from his seat, reaching down to hug her.
“It’s so good to see you,” he said as they sat down.
The waitress came by, but Russ waved her off. “It’s going to be awhile before we order,” he said, slipping her a bill. “For holding up your table,” he said with a twinkle in his eye that made her flush.
He turned back to Cam, smiling.
She smiled back, but she couldn’t hold it, now that she was looking at him. Her old friend’s face fell with concerned immediately. “Cam, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I haven’t called you or Annie in ages. And now I’m just gonna unload this all on you.”
“Stop that,” Russ ordered gently. “You introduced me to Annie. I wouldn’t have my wife if it weren’t for you. You get to unload anything on me. Tell me what’s happened.”
Without a word, Cam reached into her purse and pulled out the letter, pushing it across the table to him. He unfolded it, scanning the words, his eyes widening.
“Shit,” he said.
Cam nodded. “He must’ve cut a deal,” she said.
“Did you talk to a lawyer?” Russ asked.
She shook her head. She knew she needed to, but the cost of it was not going to help things. Her Etsy store was doing well, especially since she’d started doing little calligraphy prints of inspirational sayings, but she wouldn’t start seeing clients again until Exile Ink opened.
“Okay, you need to talk to a lawyer,” Russ said. “And then you need to buy a gun.”
“Russ…” she hissed.
“I’m serious, Cam,” he said, his blue eyes dark and worried.
She sighed, because she knew he was. He was the self-defense expert, after all.
Russ Weston had helped put her and Evie back together when they moved to Portland. He was a security expert who ran his firm out of a building in the Pearl. He also gave free self-defense workshops for women, which is how Cam had met him. She had brought Evie to one of them, hoping it would give her some confidence.
Her little sister was a different girl back then. A world away from the bright, cheerful, chatty young woman she was now. The old Evie had flinched at shadows and loud noises, cringed away from all men, especially older, physically intimidating ones. She rarely went through a night without waking up, screaming from the nightmares. Therapy helped a lot, but Russ’s workshops were also a vital part of Evie—and Cam’s—recovery.
Russ had helped rebuild Evie’s trust in men, bit by bit. He was naturally warm and incredibly empathetic and respectful with the women he worked with, a total teddy bear in a warrior’s body. After Evie and Cam had gone to a few of his workshops, he’d invited both of them to participate in one of his private self-defense classes, specifically designed for women who had survived abuse. He even had women demonstrators and instructors to work with his students, if they weren’t comfortable with male touch.
Russ’s classes and gentle presence gave Evie her safety and confidence back, but they’d given Cam something else: a way to heal from the trauma. Every punch, every time she won a grappling session, every time she stood back up, aching and sweating, but still vertical, the wounds of her past faded a little more.
“Your apartment has shit security,” Russ continued, clearly in security expert mode as he analyzed the situation. “If he gets out, you’ll need to go stay with someone.”
Cam opened her mouth to protest and then took a deep breath. This is why she reached out to Russ. For this kind of advice. He was the professional here.
Listen to him, she told herself sternly.
“You can come and stay with me and Annie. We’d love t
o have you,” he continued. “And Evie. Have you… has she been told?”
Cam shook her head, the knot of guilt inside her stomach growing at the thought. “I wanted to wait until… until I figured this out.”
“Cam, I’m so sorry,” Russ said. “There is still a chance they won’t give him probation. There are things you can do. You can write letters. I’ll write one. So will Annie. We can talk to the therapists you saw after about writing letters, too. You can go to the probation hearing. Tell them what he did. Make them face what he took from you and Evie before they consider letting that bastard go.”
Little frissons of relief sparked inside her as he gave her solid things she could actually do. A checklist. The foundation of a plan. “Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I appreciate the offer, and I will take you up on it. I’m praying it won’t get as far as him getting out. But considering he wasn’t even supposed to be eligible for parole for another twelve years…”
Russ sighed. “It doesn’t look good,” he finished for her.
“I’m scared,” Cam responded.
“I’m not going to insult you and tell you not to be,” Russ said. “Fear is natural. Fear is good.”
“Fear means you’re still alive,” Cam finished the mantra, knowing it all too well.
“Damn right,” Russ said with intense approval. “You’re a survivor, Cam. You’ve proved that, over and over. And you’re a protector. You will make it through this. I know it.”
“That means a lot to me,” she said. “I just… I’m so tired. I thought… it’s stupid. I thought it was over. There was no punishment fit for what he did, but at least he was rotting away in there. At least he couldn’t get to us.”
“There are steps we can take to keep you and Evie safe, if he does get out,” Russ said. “My firm will use every resource we have. If things get really bad, we can relocate you—”