Page 10 of Staying for You

“It’s beautiful,” she says quietly. “And, serene. I… well, I needed — need — this.”

She doesn’t have to explain what she’s talking about. I understand completely. “Everyone does but few realize it.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a deep breath.

She turns and looks at me, huge blue eyes full of sadness blink at me. “I want to stay here.”

I kind of assumed we’d already established that, but I see that she needs the confirmation.

“Okay. I’ll show you how to start a fire after the kids wake up, bring down some wood and kindling. You feel comfortable driving your car down here to get it unloaded?”

“I can handle it.”

“I have no doubt, but if you’d like help, I’m here. I don’t mind.”

She watches me closely. “That’s not a burden?” she asks. For some reason, I feel like she’s been made to feel like a burden before. Possibly the reason she’s here.

“Not one bit. I promise you, I wouldn’t offer it if it was.”

Her eyes close and her shoulders relax. I didn’t even realize that she’d been so tense until I see it now. “Well, then, sure. Thank you.”

She digs in her pocket for her keys and hands them over to me while still looking out at the lake. I leave the cabin and walk back up the hill to her car, confused by her behavior. Part of me is glad she let me get her vehicle down here for her. It’s not exactly the easiest area to drive in the summer with the unsteady ground, but in the winter when it’s covered in snow and ice makes it that much trickier. Especially if you’re not used to the conditions.

I press the button to unlock her car and climb in, having to readjust the seat so my knees aren’t against the steering wheel and drive down to her cabin. I notice a computer bag on her passenger seat as well as three paperback novels. The couple on the cover of the book on top of the stack are embracing one another, the man shirtless and looking like he makes a living in the gym. The woman’s hair is long, almost down to her butt and she’s tiny in the man’s arms.

I know Olivia and Chloe both read a lot of romance books but they’re always on their e-readers. Is this what the covers are like? Then the name at the bottom catches my attention. Camilla Moore. She calls herself Cami but when she booked with me, she used her full name of Camilla.

Not being able to stop myself, I reach over and look at the two books that are under it, seeing that they’re by her as well. She’s written three books? That’s… well, impressive. I don’t think I’ve read three books in the past ten years.

“Wow,” I say to myself then turn her car on and drive it the short distance down to her cabin. I’ll load up wood into the back of my pickup a little later and help her get a fire started in her cabin so she knows how to do it.

I back up to the door and press the button so her back door opens. She must still be on the deck because she doesn’t appear so I walk back inside the cabin and stop in my tracks.

She’s crying. Head tipped down, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

I don’t do well with crying.

When I was growing up with Olivia, if she shed a tear from sadness, I was a goner. I’d climb any mountain to get her to stop. Metaphorically, obviously. But my baby sister’s tears were my Achilles heel from the time I was five years old and since then any time I see a woman upset or hurting, I have this insane desire to fix it.

Just as I’m about to walk out onto the deck to — I don’t know what, comfort her — crying through the baby monitor pulls my attention from Cami.

She spins around, a look of terror on her tear-stained face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt you. It sounds like the kids are awake. If you want to wait to get everything out of your car, I can be back down in a bit to help.”

She’s shaking her head before I even finish speaking. “I’ll be fine. You go take care of them.”

“I’ll be back down in a bit — with the wood.”

Sadness covers her like a cloak. “Not tonight, okay? I’ll be fine with the heater to keep me warm enough.”

I hesitate then ask, “Are you alright?”

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