Page 32 of Wild and Wrangled

“She was?” I didn’t know that. I was shocked that Cam had willingly given up that information to me—maybe I caught her at just the right time, or her soft spot for Aggie Tucker made her more forthcoming, or maybe it was the cutting boards; who knew? My mom had never told me. I wished I was there. I wished a lot of things when it came to Cam.

Cam nodded. “I ran into her when I was buying the pregnancy test at the pharmacy. She said she didn’t want me to have to do it alone.”

“She loves you,” I said honestly. From the first time I brought Cam home, my mom thought she was magnificent. I did, too. “So,” I said, “changing the subject—where’s this bed that needs some attention?”

“Back bedroom,” Cam said. “I have a tool kit in there. Do you want a drink or anything? I don’t have much.” She opened the fridge. “Two hard seltzers, three soft seltzers, and two Capri Suns. I need to get groceries before I grab Riley tomorrow.”

“What flavor Capri Sun?” I asked.

“Pacific cooler,” Cam said with a smile.

“Will Riley be mad if I have one?”

“It’ll be our little secret,” Cam responded as she tossed one of the juice pouches over to me. I caught it—thank god. It would have been embarrassing if I hadn’t. Cam grabbed one of the seltzer waters and cracked it open before starting back toward Riley’s bedroom. I followed and tried to keep my attention anywhere but on Cam’s long legs.

The hallway off the living room had two bedrooms and a bathroom. There were boxes in both bedrooms. When we walked into Riley’s room, it looked like a bomb had gone off.All of the pieces of Riley’s four-poster bed were laid flat on the hardwood floor. It was a light wood—probably walnut. It matched the tall dresser, nightstand, and desk. There was a mattress propped up against the wall, too. I could hear a refrain playing from a speaker in here—“You Have Stolen My Heart” by Dashboard Confessional—and for a second, I wasn’t in this bedroom.

I was in the passenger seat of my Bronco. The windows were down, and Cam was driving us down a back road. She’d convinced me to let her drive, and I loved looking at her while she did. We were singing at the top of our lungs to a mix CD that she had made—the first of many.

“…I literally cannot figure out where things go.” Cam’s voice pulled me back to the present. “I should’ve kept the instruction manual. This bag has all of the hardware and stuff in it,” she said, handing me a bag.

“All right, I’ll take care of this part,” I said with a smile. When I made eye contact with Cam, her eyes dropped to my neck—the right side of my neck, specifically—just like they did when we were at Chili’s—like she couldn’t believe I still had it.

I wondered if she still had hers.

“How can I help?” she asked.

“Let me get the lay of the land, and we’ll go from there,” I said.

“So you’re okay if I unpack some of her clothes and stuff?” Cam asked, and I nodded. She walked to the other side of the room, and we both got started on our respective tasks. As far as the bed went, it looked pretty easy to assemble. As far as Cam went, however, I didn’t really know what to do.

I wasn’t stupid enough to think that I still knew her the way I used to, but I wanted to. Know her, I mean—what her life was like now, if she was okay.

“So,” I said, keeping my eyes on my task, “how’s your week been?”

Cam laughed a little. She was sitting on the floor, pulling small clothes out of boxes and folding them. “Honestly, not the worst week of my life,” she said. “Which pretty much tells you all you need to know about my life, I guess.”

“I’d rather you tell me everything about your life,” I said without thinking.

I thought she would clam up and stay quiet, but she didn’t. Instead, she asked, “What do you want to know?”

I wanted to start with the basics—easy stuff that couldn’t trip her up or cause her to stop talking to me. Just like I did back in high school. “Where are you working now?” I already knew, but I was trying to stay in the safe small talk territory.

“I’m a lawyer,” she said. One of the Ashwoods’ approved career paths—doctor, banker, accountant, lawyer. “A firm in Jackson Hole. I shadowed there over the summer before I took the bar again, and when I passed, they hired me as a junior associate.”

“What kind of law do you practice or work with or whatever?”

“Real estate law, mostly,” she said. “I work with estate holdings and stuff, too.”

“Do you like it?”

I heard Cam sigh. “It’s a good job with good people.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I said. “Do you like your job? Do you like being a lawyer?”

“I like understanding the rule of law,” she said. “I like how complex it can be and how many paths there are to different outcomes, but no, I don’t always like my actual job very much.”

“Why not?” I asked.

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