I frowned. “How?”
“The night at the lake,” he answered with a low chuckle. “You were lying on your back, covered in goat shit, and you were looking at the stars. You were not frowning, or wincing in pain, you were in blissful awe for a moment.” I looked over at him, finding him shaking his head. “I’d never seen that look on your face. And the realization of how beautiful you looked and how outrageously I wanted you right then assaulted me. It caught me so off guard that I couldn’t even speak.” His jaw clenched. “And then you made it worse.”
Words left me with a rocky exhale. “I did?”
“You had to go into the lake and pull that goddamn goat out of the water like your life depended on it,” Cameron rasped out with a humorless laugh. “You, in heels and a fucking suit I…” A puff of air left him. “God, I’d never been more shocked and turned on in my whole life.” His throat worked. “I think part of me decided that night that I would be taking you here.”
I brought the thermos to my lips again, willing my heart to quiet, to stop drumming on my temples and let me enjoy the peace of this stunning place. But Cameron’s words kept echoing in my head. The weight of them and what lay in between them. In between us.
My eyelids fluttered for an instant, and before I realized what I was saying, the words were leaving me. “What’s next for you, Cam?”
It was the audible hitch in his throat that made me realize I’d called him Cam and not Cameron. “I don’t know,” he answered, and I could hear the honesty in his voice. I could also tell there was a hint of… fear, perhaps. Of uncertainty. “There’s a pundit gig on the table, in London. I don’t want it.”
Why? I wanted to ask. Are you not leaving the US then? But I didn’t know if I had the courage to ask him that. A part of me didn’t want to hear the answer. I didn’t want him to leave, but that was unfair. Because I wasn’t staying in Green Oak, either. I was leaving soon.
Cameron’s body shifted on the blanket, coming closer to me. I was shaking again but it wasn’t because I was cold, and I think Cameron knew that. “Looking forward to returning home?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I looked down at my feet. Home. “I thought I’d be glad when this whole thing came to an end, and I could go back to my life. But I… It’s strange. I’ve never felt like I wasn’t part of the Miami Flames, but the more time I spend here, the more detached I become. Like I was never part of them. Not really.”
Cameron’s palm settled on my thigh, the weight and warmth seeping through the thick fabric of the pants he’d insisted I wore. He squeezed, those long fingers tightening against my skin in a way that made me think—wish—he was doing more than just that.
“I always dreamed of being in charge of the club one day,” I heard myself confess. “You know, take over from my father. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hesitate to come here. It was a way to redeem myself and earn back his respect after I embarrassed him.” The words I’d heard David say that day returned. “Although, I don’t think my father ever fully believed in me. And I guess I proved him right.”
“Stop that,” Cameron said from my side. “Stop justifying every single person who treats you like rubbish.” His brows furrowed, and when his lips parted I knew the question that was coming out of them. “What happened, love?” he asked me, voice soft. “What was done to you for you to break like that?”
Break.
I had broken, hadn’t I?
Yes. There was no question.
Blood rushed to my head at the scattered memories of that day, the clip, but most of all, of Cameron’s reaction to seeing it. His words.
I would have done everything in my power to protect you.
“Nothing was done to me.” I stumbled over my words, feeling my hands shake and setting the thermos beside my hip. “I am the only one responsible for my actions, and believing otherwise would be stupid. And immature.” I shook my head. “What happened is not worth wasting this beautiful night with you.”
Cameron’s palm lifted off my thigh and landed on the back of my head. His fingers slipped into my hair. He tilted my head so I would look at him. “Let me be the judge of what’s worth my time,” he told me, all that softness melting away.
And I could see it in his eyes, clear as the day. I would have fucking cared. Tell me. Trust me.
So the words rolled off my tongue. “My ex, David, had been lying. Using me. And my father had been part of it.”