Striking

by Lila Felix

  “Cami,” Stockton rumbled, his lips twisted up sweetly and his eyes alight with raw intensity. “I love you.”

  I hadn’t been expecting that. I don’t know what I was expecting…. Maybe a lecture on why I shouldn’t be running off in the dark, or the importance of not stripping where anyone could see me. But a declaration of love, the same night I had been craving one, was so not it.

  I stared at him stunned. My palm moved up to stroke the rough line of his jaw, but I didn’t even remember ordering it to do so.

  “I love you too,” I whispered, revealing my whole heart, giving him every secret and exposed part.

  “Good,” he smiled. “Because I plan on telling you this every day for the rest of your life. You deserve to hear it Cami. This and so much more. I love you. I love you more than what I know what to do with. I know we haven’t known each other that long. And I know that we live in completely different worlds, but I cannot imagine a day without you in my life, Duchess. I cannot imagine living another moment of my life without telling you I love you as many times as I can before you get sick of hearing it.”

  Tears were in my eyes again, and my throat was thick with emotion. “I won’t,” I whispered. “I could never get tired of hearing that.” My heart was expanding in my chest and my blood and bones were all tingly. I had never heard that phrase said with so much conviction before and never before had it been aimed at me. I felt like an entirely different person after those words. Like I’d gone through some conversion, or metamorphosis. I wasn’t destructive any more. I wasn’t attention-seeking and dangerous any longer. I was who someone loved. A good person. A strong, wonderful person. I was the other half of a whole and he loved me. He loved me.

  And now, in the middle of the Tennessee Mountains, on a cold, windy night, in a place I never in a million years thought I would find myself-I had come home. Stockton Wright appeared in my life, turned it upside down and saved me. And now, after the saving, he completed me.

  Finally our lips crashed together in a desperation to show each other how we felt, not just told them. He set me down into the river and at feel of the rocky bottom underneath my bare feet and the ice cold temperatures, I gasped.

  Stockton took the advantage and kissed me deeper. His mouth was hot and unyielding against mine and I simply gave into the pleasure of that.

  His hands moved around my body, pulling me closer to him, closing all the space that could possibly exist.

  Stockton was claiming me in this kiss, making a statement and taking me boldly. He was everything I wanted in a man and I simply could not believe he wanted me back. I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t know what to do with him.

  In like a metaphysical sense.

  Right now, I knew exactly what I was doing.

  Stockton picked me up again, only this time it was to wrap my legs around his narrow waist and then walk us into deeper water. He never broke the kiss, never untangled our bodies, even for a second.

  I kept my legs tightly around him, loving the feel of his hard, contoured body against my petite, soft one. His hands stayed gripped on my waist, but this was Stockton so I didn’t expect any wandering hands or cheap feel ups. He was always the perfect gentleman. And even when I got him hot and bothered, he never let his control slip. He treated me with respect and knew the exact balance to show me just how much he desired me without pushing me to fast or too far.

  It was one of the very reasons I fell so quickly and utterly in love with him.

  I ran my hands over his bristled head and down his neck to his firm, steel shoulders. He shivered under my touched and growled against my mouth. His lips left mine to explore the rest of my exposed skin-my ear, my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breast peeking out from my lacey demi bra.

  “Cami,” he groaned against my skin, “you threatened me with your bikini, but this is infinitely worse.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t the only one affected and that was a powerful thought. I placed a gentled hand under his chin and slowly lifted so that he was looking me in the eyes. I licked my lips nervously and couldn’t repress the shudder I felt from the heated, consuming look in his eyes.

  “Tell me you love me again,” I whispered in the still night.

  The sound of the river moving and the chirping cicadas in the forested surroundings were like a soundtrack of music-our own private symphony. Then he looked me so deeply in the eyes I thought I would melt and said, “I love you Camdyn Montgomery.”

  And then I was crashing my lips back to his. We kissed like that for a while, bodies pressing against each other, hands clutching one another as if the world didn’t exist unless we were touching, as if when we let go we would tumble into the abyss and therefore it was imperative to never let go. He was my anchor, my significance and my saving grace all in one.

  I would have been crazy to let go.

  So I held on until our kisses grew slow and sweet, savoring and lasting. Our bodies grew numb to the water, but still we clung to each other, dreading the moment when we would have to part.

  Eventually that time did come. Stockton promised Henry he would have me home at a decent hour and Stockton never seemed capable of going back on his word. He carried me from the river and all the way up to his truck in his capable arms.

  He deposited me onto the seat and resumed kissing until a pained groan came from the back of his throat. My fingers trailed down his bare, chiseled chest and stopped on something I noticed before, but hadn’t had a chance to check out-you know, because of all the kissing.

  I pulled away and stared in awe at the expertly drawn tattoo. “This is incredible,” I whispered. “It looks like one of those thingy’s in your shop.” Obviously I was an expert on everything blacksmith.

  He chuckled and offered, “An anvil.”

  “So fancy,” I smiled back. I traced the lines around the image that looked like a couture version of something you could find on Looney Tunes. From the overhead light in the Jeep, I could make out the black and gray lines and shading that depicted an important tool he worked with every single day. This was an important part of his life and livelihood and whoever had drawn it had done it a great service. “It’s really nicely done. Truly, Stockton, I love it.”

  “And me?” he looked down at me, beaming with pride and reverence.

  “Yes, and you. I love you too,” I whispered with all the conviction I was capable of. He pressed the gentlest, most careful kiss to my forehead and whispered the sentiment back.

  I would never get tired of that. Never. It wasn’t hype and it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Those three simple words held real power. And my life was better, more complete-more meaningful-because I’d heard them-because Stockton said them to me.

  Leaving me to dress again, he walked around the hood of the vehicle and searched for his discarded clothes on the obscure ground. I watched him shake them out before putting them back on with carefree amusement all the while his words ran through my head over and over and over again.

  I love you. I love you. I love you.

  It was one thing to feel them for the first time myself, but an entirely different life-changing experience to hear them. I was loved by somebody. Treasured. Cherished. Valued.

  And I not only knew that, but I felt it too-all the way down to the marrow of my bones.

  My life would never be the same after tonight. And honestly I never wanted it to. I couldn’t imagine going back to living before love-it would be like living in black and white before color was introduced to photography. I was made for color, made for the light.

  And now that I experienced just a little bit of that, I was never going to let it go.

  By the time Stockton dropped me back at the Macon’s after another healthy make-out session in the driveway, my euphoria had grown into a religious conversion. Now that I knew love, I wasn’t going to let anyone else get away with treating me with anything less. Maybe not strangers on the street, but I had a right to demand love from some
people in my life. And I was finally brave enough to do something about it.

  Stockton walked me up to the front door and gave me a goodbye that started with chaste kisses but turned into something so much more-almost like he just couldn’t help himself.

  Finally, he pressed his forehead to mine and whispered, “Goodnight, Cami.”

  “Goodnight, Stockton,” I smiled back. But it was so much more than a smile; it was a glow-it was glory.

  He sucked in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Letting go of my hands torturously slow he looked me in the eyes again and promised, “I love you.”

  With the dumbest, most idiotic grin ever known to man, I promised back, “I love you too.”

  Stockton left and I laid in bed making plans for my life, for my future. This was love. And I wanted it everywhere. In every single thing I did and experienced. No more was fear and recklessness going to rule my life. I was changing it tonight, making room for love and only love.

  That meant pursuing my dream to become a writer-because I didn’t want to work unless I loved doing it. And while I now understood the importance of working, I knew I deserved to love what I was doing. That meant distancing myself from my family. I had been called toxic all my life. But looking back I could realize that maybe I wasn’t exactly poisonous… but I was lost. And I didn’t want to invite or willingly live with factors that contributed to those feelings of neglect, unwant and insecurity.

  And screw everything else.

  Because unless there was love, there wasn’t a whole version of me.

  And I wanted to be the person that deserved Stockton; that deserved a healthy, happy life.

  Watch out world, hear me roar and everything else, because Camdyn Montgomery finally found purpose in life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stockton

  She probably didn’t know it in the dark, through the long, winding dirt roads, but I’d passed my own driveway three times, each pass convincing myself that I had to bring her home on time. Each pass had my hands seizing up around the steering wheel, my brain and my heart giving them mixed signals. Letting her go after that night was torture beyond any pain I’d ever experienced. I needed her with me—always. I wanted to hear her breathing as she slept, hear her feet coming down the hallway for breakfast, taste the sweet spot on the back of her neck as she lay nestled in front of me. But even then I didn’t know if I’d ever be completely sated.

  My hunger for Cami was insatiable.

  Finally back home after the best, most drawn out goodbye in history, I sat in the running truck just reveling in her lingering scent, letting it infiltrate my senses, hoping it would last the night. And I could’ve killed her for stripping down at the river for anyone to see. Didn’t she realize there could be a gang of moonshiners out in those woods? I could just imagine the town gossip after that. But I got over it quickly after I realized that the woman I loved was practically naked in the water waiting for me. But then again, she beckoned me every hour of every minute. And if that thing she was wearing was called a bra in California, then the land of Beverly Hills scored some points with me.

  We’d never had the conversation, but I was sure I wasn’t the first to see Cami in that state—I didn’t care. She was brand new to me. Every experience was the first with her around. For the life of me, I couldn’t even remember any girl before her and I knew there’d be none after.

  I’d been shocked at her little speech when we got to the river. She’d made a lot of sense that night. I’d lived for too long bearing the cross of my parents’ death, sometimes allowing it to weigh down on me so greatly that I couldn’t breathe.

  Then there was that other thing.

  The most important thing of all.

  Camdyn Montgomery loved me.

  She—loved—me.

  She loved me.

  It was completely confounding.

  I hadn’t meant to tell her—especially practically naked. I’d wanted to profess it to her under the lights in my backyard, under the stars, at her window, anything but at the muddy river. But it was no longer under my control. The words demanded to be said and my heart yearned to know whether or not hers felt the same.

  I threw the truck into park but didn’t immediately go in. My mind was still reeling from that night’s revelations and I needed to think. I walked a short perimeter of the main property and somehow, when my mind had finally grown tired of scrambling, I found myself in front of the blackened spot where the barn used to stand. Since the fire, I’d avoided the spot at all costs. But Cami wasn’t the only one with some growing up to do. And it was there I decided to finally let it go as much as I could that night. I apologized to my parents for not being around. I told them how much I missed them and how much I wished they were still here. And I told them I’d found Cami. And how she’d dug me out from below the avalanche of myself.

  I needed to rebuild the barn. I chuckled to myself, imagining my dad’s stern face telling me what a shame I was to let it go so long. And that’s what I would do, I decided. I’d save up the money and rebuild what was once one of my father’s favorite places. And the thought of a barn, conjured thoughts of cows, strangely enough—good for milk, milk for children—my children—our children. And suddenly there was a gleam where once had only been soot, hope where there had been once only ashes, life when for so long all I could see was death. There was the promise of a life for me with Cami.

  And I’d be damned if I let anything get in my way.

  I laughed at my own silly sappiness but I didn’t care anymore—I had Cami and that was all that mattered.

  Willa was home and already in bed by the time I made it back to the house. I wanted to call Cami, to hear it one more time from the lips of my saving grace. Words I’d denied myself saying or hearing for so long—and now I coveted them, ached to hear them uttered once more, in a way that only her voice could provide—with a sincerity that only she possessed. But even though I’d brought her home on time, I didn’t want to push my luck with the Macons by calling too late. So I shucked my clothes for the second time that night, the first being far more entertaining than the latter, and lulled myself to sleep with the echo of ‘I love you’ in my ears.

  ~~~

  The rest of the week progressed as usual, though it was triply challenging to keep myself on my side of the window after the episode at the river. And I swore I never really stopped to imagine what her lingerie looked like. Screw it-I had. But now that I knew—

  Shit, there I go again. I’m gonna live with a permanent semi.

  I’m never gonna be able to wear loose pants again.

  Cami had been pretty busy and Will had been equally busy with graduation preparations. She’d nearly bled me dry with her cap and gown, not to mention the pictures and the ring. I’d finished a few orders early in hopes I’d get paid early. Either that or Cami and I were gonna have a lot of river dates since I couldn’t afford shit else.

  Thursday, I’d even gone over to the Macon’s for dinner. Henry and Mallory alike had warmed significantly and were now treating Cami more like a daughter and less like a prisoner. Cami and Mallory shared several knowing glances but I assumed it was a woman thing and didn’t dare pry.

  And on the side, I was working on a project more important than anything I’d forged in all my years of smithing. I’d made a trip up to Louisville, to a woman I knew who hand cut gems found in the Appalachian Mountains. Luckily, she was a country girl and easily accepted my trade of six handmade knives in exchange for the perfect oval shaped Citrine gem. She said that specific gem encouraged the fullness of life. And that was Cami—she reached in deep and pulled the fullness of life from the caverns of me.

  We hadn’t breached the obvious subject—I suspected she was ignoring it as much as I was. The elephant in the room was that she was sent here temporarily. We didn’t know how temporary and I had no idea if her loving me had even changed the situation. I knew it had for me. I’d even toyed with moving to California, as chafing
as the notion was. Willa would be going to school soon. I would do that for her. I would go anywhere and do anything for Cami. So I had to move fast. Hour by hour I was losing time. So day and night I’d filed and polished my promise to her until I’d made it as close to deserving her as I could get. The trinket I held in my hand possessed my promise. That no matter what—no matter where she was, she owned me heart and soul. And nothing save death could sever it. And I doubted death even had that much power—especially that boney little shit in the black robe on TV, I’d beat him down with my big arm, no sweat.

  Mallory had insisted Cami spend Friday night at home, and Will had plans. So I trudged in the house, placed her gift in the box I’d also bought from the girl in Louisville and looked at it once more before setting it to rest in my top dresser drawer. Bills, bills, advertisements, credit card offers and one envelope I hadn’t really looked at yet, sat on the kitchen table begging me for attention as I squandered last night’s white beans and cornbread. The bills got torn to shreds and the credit card offer got thrown in the bill drawer. One last envelope remained. It had a space where a card, noting its delivery, had been torn from the resting spot. Someone wanted me to receive this letter.

  I peeled it open and as I read, a rumble of rage vibrated through my core, instantly. It was a letter praising my work, my samples and congratulating me on accepting their offer. The envelope also held a hefty check. I turned back to the mail drawer and flung every envelope onto the counter after inspecting it. The letter from the company was gone and gears of thought, having their teeth not quite meet up since discovering my missing knives, now slid into place and instantly solved the mystery. And I knew exactly the culprit—Willa. It had to be her—no one else knew where I kept the mail. No one else would give a shit. She’d probably read the letter and took it upon herself to send in samples. She’d probably sat right there at our father’s table and completed her treason with my falsified signature.