Awestruck, I sat there, staring at the side of his handsome face, a warmth filling my chest. Camden Cole still had my back no matter what.
My gut instinct was to feel guilty, to apologize for him having to take on so much of my issues to the point that he’d built a safety net for me into his own career.
I wanted to be embarrassed that I needed him and feel shame about how he was stuck with a friend like me.
But year after year, I’d been uninstalling the drawers in my head, so there was no longer a place to put those feelings other than out in the open.
“I hate that I’ve made so many of my problems your problems too.”
He shot me a side-eye. “Are you kidding me? I’d have flown down here and planted weed in your purse years ago if I’d thought it would get me involved in a case with that prick.”
“Okay, then at least let me pay for your plane ticket. I feel bad.”
“It didn’t seem like you felt bad while you were giggling back at the station.”
“Well, no. You made Jonathan your bitch. That was fucking amazing. But I feel bad now.” Reaching over, I slid my hand on top of his and intertwined our fingers. It was something so natural I didn’t even question it. Yes, I would always be attracted to Camden. But this was not a hey, I'd really enjoy ripping your clothes off again type of physical gesture. It was more of the thanks for always being there when I need you variety.
The problem was, regardless of the variety, Camden immediately pulled his hand away. “There’s no reason to feel bad. We’re friends,” he stated.
Remember that mixture of caress and curse he’d hit me with earlier? Yeah, this one was all curse.
I leaned back in my seat, an awkward sense of unease slithering across my skin. We were friends. There was no arguing that. But why had he said it with such a force it was as though he’d planted a shield in the ground at his feet.
It had been a seriously long day. There was a good chance I was just being sensitive and reading into things. “Right. Friends,” I muttered.
He nodded and turned onto my street. “Which house is yours?”
“Corner on the right.”
He slowed and I waited for him to turn into my driveway, but instead, he pulled up in front of my house and put it in park. The best part? He didn’t even cut the engine.
“I’ll be by to get you in the morning. Say about nine? We can grab your car from impound and then head over and talk to Joe. Hopefully, by then, we’ll have more information from the prosecutor and know how to handle things. But you need to get some rest and I need to make a game plan.”
He looked at me expectantly, but I just sat there staring at him with a curled lip.
“Are you seriously not staying with me?”
“I’ll be up late working, and when I think, I do a lot of pacing and talking to myself.”
“So…”
“So I’m going to stay at the hotel.”
I stared at him, a knot growing in my stomach. Why did that hurt? We hadn’t seen each other in so long; I wanted to drink up every single second of Camden Cole that I could.
And he wanted to stay at a hotel.
I sucked in a deep breath and willed my shoulders to relax. He had just flown all the way from New York to save my ass, and now, he was developing a “game plan” for how he was going to save it even further. Being a gorgeous, powerful, sometimes cranky attorney had to be exhausting. Maybe he just needed his own space to clear his mind and relax.
Yes. That was it. It had nothing to do with me or us or, well, us just being friends. It was a work thing. I color-coded crayons when I was stressed. I guessed it wasn't completely crazy if he wanted to pace and talk in a roach motel.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He grinned. “Okay.”
I forced a smile. “How long are you in town?”
The answer would no doubt be some variation of “How long do you need me to stay?” Historically, it was how Camden and I worked, and with as weird as things felt inside that SUV, I really needed the reminder of something normal.
He swayed his head from side to side. “Assuming the prosecutor has half a brain, it shouldn’t take more than a week. I shifted some of my cases at home and can work on the rest remotely, but I’ll need to get back sooner rather than later.”
A sinkhole could have opened up and swallowed the car and I would have been less surprised than hearing Camden Cole say, “Sooner rather than later.”
I mean, I got it. He had a job and a career. I felt guilty that he was there for me. But damn, it still stung.
“Totally understand,” I muttered, grabbing the door handle and swinging it open before he had the chance to see the hurt in my eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I sprinted across my yard, right through the flowerbed I’d spent months planting and pruning. But who cared about gardenias when you were running away from the only man you’d ever loved?
"Goodnight, Nora!” he yelled out the passenger-side window.
I had no clue where my keys had ended up that day, so I dug my hide-a-key out from the flowerpot next to my door. With my heart in my throat, I opted for a wave over my shoulder before going inside.
I beelined straight to my shower, ready to wash away not only the filth from the cell, but the entire day, hopefully to cleanse away the awkwardness I’d never felt with Camden Cole before too. Being a trained professional who had put entirely too many tubes of chapstick into the washing machine over the years, I checked all of my pockets before throwing my pants into the hamper.
They should have been empty. Everything I’d had on me when I’d been arrested was in a plastic baggy now.
But in my front right pocket, there was a folded up ten-dollar bill.
A wave of emotions crashed into me. I had no idea how or when he’d snuck it in there without me feeling it. It was definitely our ten though, complete with the faded words This is yours. Fair and square. scrawled across the back.
And just like that, something felt normal again.
Calling the Clovert Inn a hotel was generous at best. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a piece of paper behind the check-in counter stating hourly rates.
After taking off my jacket and my vest and hanging them in the dingy closet across from the even dingier bathroom, I peeled back the threadbare comforter on the bed, thankfully finding what appeared to be clean sheets. Finally, I sank down on the edge.
What a fucking day.
When I’d gotten the phone call from Joe, I’d been in the middle of a meeting with a client. I’d almost fallen out of my chair snatching it off the table. Back when Nora had been younger, after she’d tried to end her life, Joe had called me periodically to check in and give me updates. We didn’t talk long or often, but I always smiled when his number popped up on the screen of my phone.
Not that day though. It had been too long since we’d last spoken for him to be calling for anything other than bad news.
My blood boiled as Joe filled me in on what Jonathan had done. Within an hour, I paid a small fortune for a ticket on the first flight out. There was never a question of whether I would drop everything and go to her. It was Nora; there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
Though staying at her house would have seriously tested the limits.
Even fresh out of a jail cell, in wrinkled clothes, and with her hair a tangled mess, she was just as beautiful as she’d always been. But that wasn’t why I was there. We had far bigger fish to fry than mutual and undeniable attraction.
My phone rang and I dug it out of my back pocket, groaning when I saw Mom flash on the screen. My mother and I had a strained relationship, but she at least attempted to keep in touch.
Falling back across the bed, I put the phone to my ear. “Hello.”
“Hello, son. My one and only son, might I add.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, that sounds like the beginning of a guilt trip.”
“No guilt,” she said haughtily. “
I just think it says a lot that I got a call from your aunt saying you were in Clovert and I am the very last person to know.”
Jesus, word traveled fast in that town. “It wasn’t a planned trip. Some…business came up.”
“Oh, I’ve heard all about your business there, Camden. What I don’t understand is why you would fly all the way across the country to get into a tuffle with Jonathan again. Can you just leave that man alone for once?”
I barked a laugh. “Is that what you think is happening, Mom? A tuffle?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think. You’ve spent your entire life fighting with him. At some point, I just assumed you’d grow up.”
Clenching my teeth, I suddenly sat up, gripping the phone so tightly my fingertips turned red. “Oh, I’ve grown up. I went to law school, and while I was there, they taught me that it’s not okay for a cop to harass a victim’s family and especially not pull her over and plant drugs in her purse.”
“My God, Camden. Is this about that girl again?”
“Her name is Nora, Mom. Say it with me: Nor-a. And she’s not some girl. In case you don’t remember, dear old Auntie Caskey’s son and Jonathan’s prized brother raped her.”
“Jesus, Camden. Don’t be so crude.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was that uncomfortable for you to hear? You know what else I bet is uncomfortable? Being a twelve-year-old girl and having someone force themselves on you.”
She let out a loud sigh. “And here we go again. After all these years, you’re still stuck on this. We don’t know if he did that to her.”
“I picked the splitters out of her back!” I boomed. “But fine. You want to pretend Josh didn’t do anything to Nora. Let’s talk about facts. We know he did do it to Thea. You can’t argue with that. There are medical records that say otherwise.”
She could have argued a lot of things right then. My mother was a bright, educated woman. After marrying my dad, she’d never needed to work a day in her life, but she was intelligent—albeit a little Southern Stepford at times. She could have pointed out how death had been ruled an unconstitutional punishment for rape. She could have stated Josh had deserved a fair trial before a jury of his peers. She even could have just kept her fucking mouth shut altogether.
My mother chose none of the above.
“Have you ever considered that maybe it was consensual?”
My.
Head.
Exploded.
“Are you off your fucking rocker?” I shouted, shooting to my feet.
“Camden,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me like that.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I began pacing the room like a caged animal. “You have no idea what you are talking about. Just when I start to think you aren’t like the rest of your screwed-up family, you start spouting shit like that.”
“They’re your family too. And you’re going to embarrass all of us if you don’t drop this little grudge you have against your cousin. He’s a police officer. Arresting people who break the law is his job.”
“And upholding that law is mine. I don’t give a shit if the person is a Caskey, a Kennedy, or Christ himself.”
“You don’t mean that.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You have no idea just how much I do mean it. Look, I have to go. Take care of yourself.”
“Camden!” she shouted across the line, but it was too late.
I pulled the phone from my ear and hit the end button.
It wasn’t two seconds before my phone started ringing again, but I did not have the time, the energy, or the patience to deal with any more bullshit. I knew better than to assume she’d give up though, I’d be lucky if she wasn’t already in her car, on the way to Clovert. Whatever. My mom was the least of my worries at the moment.
I tossed it onto the bed and continued to pace, hoping to burn away enough of the adrenaline so I could actually catch a few hours of sleep and be worth a damn the next day.
And to think, I’d assumed keeping my hands off Nora was going to be the hardest part of this trip.
“I’m sorry. Come again,” I whispered across the phone, slowly sinking down onto the couch.
My principal cleared her throat. “It’s just temporary.”
“You can’t suspend me, Julie. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It’s policy, Nora. Especially since there were drugs involved. I’m sure you’ll be reinstated in no time. Pending the outcome of your, uh… Oh, dear, how do I put this? Legal predicament, of course.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I drew in a shaky breath. “You can’t do this to me. Come on, Julie. Screw policy. Those kids are my life.”
“I know, and I give you my word we’ll take great care of them for you. Barbara Gilbert has already agreed to come in and take your class. You like her, right?”
I bit my bottom lip and hung my head. Last I’d heard, Barbara was turning down short-term substitute work because she was holding out for a permanent position.
And clearly she’d found one.
With my kids.
“Yeah. She’s great.”
“Listen, we’re all rooting for you here. If you didn’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about.”
Yeah, right. If only that were the case. I was a Stewart and we were currently zero and one with the judicial system.
My head snapped up when there was a knock on my door. Nine o’clock. Right on time. My heart skipped a beat knowing it was Camden on the other side.
“I understand, Julie. Can I pop in after school one day and pick up a few things from my desk?”
“Absolutely. Just focus on yourself and we’ll hold down the fort until you get back, okay?”
I sighed and walked to my door. “Yeah. Okay. Have a good weekend.”
“You too, dear.”
I ended the call and shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. I paused to smooth my hair down and do a cursory sweep under my eyes just in case any of my tears had the chance to escape.
My efforts were fruitless because as soon as I opened the door and Camden’s bright-blue eyes landed on me, he rushed out, “What’s wrong?”
“Hi,” I greeted, sick and damn tired of people asking me that. But even more sick and tired of there usually being an answer.
He extended a paper travel cup of coffee my way. “Is that a real hi? Or hi, I’m avoiding your question?”
“Both.” Shoving the door wide to invite him in, I took the cup from his hand, never having needed a second dose of caffeine more.
Sexy as sin in a pair of sneakers, low-slung jeans, and a fitted black v-neck T-shirt that hugged new and mouth-watering planes his suit had hidden the night before, he stepped into my house. “Okay, then. Let me put it this way. As your attorney, is there anything I need to know about?”
I turned on a toe and walked to the kitchen, positive I was going to need to doctor the coffee with more cream and sugar. After placing my cup on the counter, I pried the top off and sighed. “My principal suspended me”—I hooked my fingers in air quotes—“pending the outcome of my legal predicament.”
“Shiiit,” he drawled. “I’d really hoped we could get in front of that. Have you talked to your union representative yet?”
Retrieving the milk from the fridge, I barked a laugh. “Um, I think your New York is showing. There’s no teacher’s union in these parts.”
“Oh, right,” he said then took a sip of his coffee. “So, how are you handling the news?”
I slid my teal canister over, scooped two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into my cup, and gave it a swirl. “Well, I’ve had about three minutes to process it, but I’m happy to report I haven’t broken into the vodka or cut the brake lines on Jonathan’s cruiser yet, so I’d say so far so good.”
He grinned. “That’s reassuring. I’m still trying to figure out how to explain away your teeth marks on Officer Rice’s hand. Cut brake lines would definitely require a touch more legal finesse on my par
t.”
I chuffed and looked down to put the top back on my coffee. “I still can’t believe you’re an attorney.”
“Well, maybe if we’d spoken in the last five years, you’d know.”
“What?” I asked, my head snapping up. It could have been an innocent prod from an old friend. Just a teasing joke. But there was something odd to the edge in his tone.
He smiled. “You ready to go? I called and impound is only open until noon.”
Ooookay. Interesting subject change. But it was Camden, and while things were certainly different between us—seriously, he hadn’t pulled me into a hug once yet—I told myself that it was nothing.
“Um, yeah. Let me just grab my stuff.”
While I packed a new purse and wallet with my emergency credit card that lived in my nightstand and thankfully not in my wallet currently numbered in an evidence locker, he stood in the middle of my living room, scanning the pictures on the wall. It was so incredibly surreal to see him inside my house.
Over the years, I’d spent a lot of nights imagining having him there. Just two friends catching up—at first fully clothed before spending the night doing a little naked catch-up too.
I’d never been brave enough to reach out to him though. In my head, my emotional house still needed a lot of cleaning before being ready for the likes of Camden Cole.
We drove to the impound yard together, making small talk about all the things that had changed since he’d been to Clovert last. I think he was most impressed by how we had two grocery stores now, which solidified my speculations on why he’d never come back for a visit. Buying Cheetos at two different locations only held so much travel appeal.
Things felt normal again on the car ride. We laughed and told stories about old times. When we passed the Leonards’ house, I filled him in on the never-ending feud between their family and the Lewises. Mr. Leonard had been dead for over six years, but his sons and grandkids had gotten in on the action too. Thus, Leonard's Local Tackle was born, putting Clovert on the map with not only two grocery stores, but two bait shops as well.
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