I let myself take a deep breath, probably the first one in a while. I filled my lungs with her scent, and fuck, it felt so good. So right.
Adalyn extricated her head from my chest and looked up. “You must know that I would have never said anything,” she said, brown eyes shining with emotion. Guilt. “I swear to you Cameron, when I threatened to expose you to the whole town I—” Her voice broke off. “God, I am so sorry. I—”
“I know,” I told her. And it dawned on me, just how certain I was. Had been. “I know now, okay?”
Her eyes kept twinkling with unshed tears, and I swore that if she cried right now it’d break me in half. “I must have made you feel so unsafe. And you must have really hated me. Why didn’t you leave?”
“I’m one stubborn motherfucker,” I said honestly. “I told you I was proud. And selfish.” My throat worked, and I brought my hands up and down her back, comforting myself more than her. “And I didn’t hate you. I could never hate you.” Her face softened, even if only slightly. It brought me relief. “I was no angel, either, love. I treated you like shit. Said things I shouldn’t have and never meant. I was mean to you.” My hands closed around the fabric of her shirt. “And I hate that I was.”
Adalyn released me then. She took a step back, and the absence of her felt like a punch to the gut.
“That’s okay,” she said, catching me by surprise. “You had good reasons to do all that.”
My stomach dropped with some sense of relief, because she wasn’t running away from me, but also with something I didn’t like. Why wasn’t she tucked in my arms? Why was she physically removing herself from me?
“I deserved it, honestly. What matters now is that you’ve forgiven me.”
I felt myself pale. Deserved it? “Adalyn—”
“I’m going to run to the restroom, okay? I’ll be right back so we can eat.” She made herself smile. “I’m starving and I’m under the impression that lasagna might have come right out of Nonna’s recipe book.”
It did. It was the ragù she prepared when I was a boy.
But before I could utter a word, she was walking away, and I was watching her leave. I started after her, then stopped myself. I’d give her the minute she so clearly needed.
On the island, my phone pinged with a notification.
An email from Liam.
I started putting down the device, but something caught my attention. Miami Flames.
I unlocked it and opened the email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Miami Flames interest
C – Remember I put out some scouts to spread word around that there was MLS interest in you? Not a rumour anymore. The Flames seem to be looking for a big name for sporting director. Scouts claim it’s to either fix media mess （link below） or cash in on attention. I think it’s something else. Either way, big cash. Interested?
L.
PS: RBC is growing restless, you have until end of October to decide. Stop being a wanker and take it.
I immediately clicked on the link.
A video popped open, starting without me hitting play.
A woman entered what looked like the Flames’ Stadium, stomping her way to one of those mascots shaped like a bird. Someone said, “Are you recording this?” And the camera moved closer, fully catching her face.
All the blood in my face dashed to my feet.
Adalyn.
Then it dashed right back to my head, making me see red.
“What the fuck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Adalyn
When I returned to the kitchen, I found a very different Cameron than the one I’d left there.
This one wasn’t looking at me with all that softness and vulnerability that had made my chest hurt. This Cameron was mad. Upset.
Disconcerted.
“Adalyn,” he said. That was all. Just my name.
I came to a stop. My gaze roamed all over his face, his stance, the kitchen, looking for an explanation. Had I done something to cause this? Minutes ago, I’d run into his arms because I hadn’t been able to help myself. Because I’d felt so horrible at the idea of having used something so painful against him that I would have cracked in two if I didn’t make sure he knew how sorry I was. Minutes ago, he was calling me love and telling me he’d hated being mean to me in the past. Cameron didn’t know that I was used to not being wanted in places, I was used to imposing myself on people’s lives and situations, with only a few exceptions like Matthew or my mother.