“Maybe not, but in every way that matters,” I reply firmly. “And besides, you didn’t want me anyway.”
That part I remember maybe too clearly. Pushing her away, even as every cell in my stupid teenage body had wanted to pull her closer, my voice raspy as I’d said, Your dad will kill me.
And Libby, gorgeous and naked and all of seventeen, shooting me a look far too old, far too knowing, and saying, Who do you think sent me in here?
If Howell wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself just for that. For deciding that if he couldn’t change Ruby’s mind about her will, he’d do whatever it took to make sure his family wouldn’t be cut out of it. Including sending his teenage daughter into my room to seduce me.
That was the night I knew I couldn’t stay here. That I couldn’t be a part of this so-called family any longer.
Libby is still standing in front of me, one shell-pink nail resting on the middle button of my shirt, and as I look in her green eyes, I see something there. Something real.
Something that turns my stomach and breaks my heart all at the same time.
“Who says I didn’t want you?” she asks, her voice low. “I mean, you were weird, and you always looked at me like you were afraid I was going to bite you or something, but you were cute even back then. And smart.”
She steps closer, so close that I can smell her perfume, feel her breath on my face.
“And you’re still cute and smart now,” Libby goes on. “And tall. I always forget that you’re tall.”
Reaching up, she rests her hands on my shoulders, squeezing slightly as I hold myself very still.
“It’s just … Cam, think how much easier it would’ve been.” Her voice breaks, her eyes searching mine. “You and me? It would’ve made Daddy happy, it would’ve made Nana Nelle happy…”
“Would it have made you happy?” I ask, and she smiles a little, giving that uniquely Libby shrug.
“It would’ve made me rich,” she says. “And that would’ve made me happy.”
I suck in a deep breath through my nose, and I see Libby’s smile start to curve up at the corners as she leans in even closer, her lips almost touching mine.
Stepping back so fast that I nearly overturn one of the barstools, I jerk my chin up and away from her mouth. My heart is pounding and there’s an acrid taste at the back of my throat as I picture Jules walking in, seeing us, seeing me. I’ve never looked at another woman since the night Jules walked into that shitty bar, and even though nothing about Libby in this moment is tempting, that familiar oily slick of guilt is slithering through me again.
“I’m not the answer, Libby,” I say now. “I never was. Find something better.”
My words take on a slightly desperate edge as I reach out to take her hands in mine. “You deserve better. Fuck this house, fuck this family, fuck the money. Just … be you. Whatever that is.”
I squeeze her fingers, smiling a little, hoping she hears me, and for a minute, I think she might. Her beautiful face softens, her fingers press into mine.
And then a smirk twists those symmetrical features, her lips pinching together in a way that brings Nelle to mind. “Oh, Camden,” she purrs. “That’s beautiful! Maybe save it for someone who needs a fucking Hallmark card, hmm?”
She pivots away sharply, her sandals smacking on the tile.
“Libby,” I call after her, but she just throws one hand up, dismissing me.
“You had your chance, Camden,” she calls out as she heads through the massive arch leading into the hallway. “Remember that.”
Her footsteps echo, then fade, and eventually, I hear the front door open and slam shut.
Sighing, I go over to the sink, picking up the base of the blender and setting it on the counter before turning on the hot water to wash the container.
There are other dishes in the sink, and I wash them methodically. My hands are moving, but my brain is far away.
I don’t know how long I stand there, the water running, steam curling around me.
I should’ve left that night and never returned. I probably could’ve saved myself then. I wasn’t a teenager anymore, old enough to live on my own. If only I hadn’t let Ruby call me back that last time …
My cell phone rings, pulling me out of my daze, and I shut off the water, drying my hands on the back of my jeans before picking up the phone, glancing at the name on the display.
Nathan.
My lawyer.
I’d left a message with him earlier about making an appointment to go over some paperwork, so it’s probably just that, I tell myself, answering the call.