“No,” I said, grabbing his arm.
He immediately halted, but that murderous expression was locked in place.
Why was he so mad?
There was movement in my peripheral vision, and when I looked, I saw merch-guy talking to Tony, then turning away. He was leaving, paying us no mind, and I should have been relieved, I really should have, but my heart was racing too fast and my head was all over the place.
I returned my attention to Cameron, noticing he hadn’t moved an inch. I wetted my lips, cleared my throat until I could speak, and then, said, “Can we go?” He still didn’t move. “Please. Can you take me home?”
That fierce and hostile emotion vanished from his face, and without a word, his hands moved, reminding me they were still on my body. They landed on my back and on my waist. He waited for me to take the first step, moving his shoulder closer so I could use it for support. I braced my hand there, pushed myself up, but the moment I placed weight on my left foot, I went down again.
“My ankle,” I yelped. “I think I sprained it.”
I was immediately lifted in the air.
My temple fell against a warm and solid chest. His scent surrounded me, making me feel things I didn’t want to accept. I closed my eyes. “God, that was so embarrassing.” A shaky breath left me. “I embarrassed myself and you guys. I’m so sorry.”
Cameron’s rib cage vibrated with something like a grunt or a scoff, I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to know. I was scared he’d agree and tell me just how ridiculous I was. But those words never came.
He moved with those long and confident strides, holding me up in his arms, and the only thing he said was, “I’ve got you now, love.”
* * *
By the time we reached Lazy Elk I was… an assortment of jumbled things.
For one, I was in pain. The drive back hadn’t been long, and I’d been quickly checked by Grandpa Moe, but as my ankle cooled off, the pain had steadily grown into a sharp bite that kept a wince on my face.
I was also embarrassed. Still. It didn’t matter that Cameron hadn’t commented on the fall. It didn’t matter that he’d limited himself to driving in silence, sending me quick glances to check if I was still there. I could hear the wheels in his head turning from the passenger’s seat. He knew there was something wrong.
And last, but certainly not least, I was experiencing an array of emotions that went from confused to shocked to aghast to curious to giddy, only to return right back to confused.
Cameron had called me love.
He’d carried me to his car like the damsel in distress I’d never allowed myself to be, and called me love. He’d somehow produced an ice pack and placed it on my ankle after I had to endure those big warm hands prodding and touching and massaging my leg. His touch had been so clinical, such a medical, expert touch, that I’d scolded myself when those tingles had spread all over my body. I’d been mad at the electricity crackling under my skin, when all he’d been doing was checking on me.
I blamed the four-letter word that had come out of his mouth.
The I’ve got you now, too.
I didn’t understand. I was perplexed, besides being in pain and embarrassed and mad and dazed and simply… tired. So tired I wanted to sleep all of this away. Close my eyes and forget about today, and last week, and the week prior to that. I wanted to hibernate until all the mess that was my life went away.
So when Cameron killed the engine, and parked in the exact same spot he always did, I jumped out of the car with all the dignity I had left and limped away.
And just like every time I’d indulged in a dramatic escape, Cameron was suddenly right there.
His hands came around my waist, and he said, “Let me—”
But I raised a finger, putting a stop to his unnecessary rescue mission with a simple, “No.”
“No?” he repeated, but to his credit, his hands fell to his sides.
My voice wobbled when I said, “I don’t need you to carry me inside like I’m…” Someone you care about. Someone you get hot drinks when they’re cold. Someone you call love. “Something.”
His expression tightened and somehow fell, all at the same time. Cameron looked… hurt, if I had to choose an emotion. And I felt like I’d just kicked a puppy. Or a baby goat.
With a shake of my head, I limped toward the porch, Cameron close behind, and found a small box on my doorstep. I craned my neck to inspect the label, recognizing Matthew’s handwriting. I leaned down, flexing my supporting leg so I could pick it up, but everyone on this porch knew flexibility wasn’t my thing and the task turned out to be, frankly, impossible.