Page 66 of When We Met

“When you falls asleep, I’m comin’ up there. And then when you wakes up, I be there.”

I chuckle to myself, waiting for Camdyn’s reply. She sighs again. “Go to sleep.”

“I love you,” Sev tells her.

Did your heart melt? Mine did.

Sev, though she acts tough, she’s like a unicorn that breathes fire and is blind, always running into things and then gets scared and sets on fire what scared her. Camdyn, she’s a protector by nature, like me, watchful, wary, and always observant.

Sighing, I walk down the hall to find Kacy sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her wearing my sweatpants again. “Told you I was keeping them,” she notes, winking at me.

The corners of my mouth twitch. “They look good on you.” I take a seat next to her. “But they’d look even better off.”

A beautiful sigh falls from her lips. “They’re not staying in their rooms, are they?”

Dejection hits me as I sit next to her, a foot of empty, unbearable space between us. “Probably not. Sev still gets up once a night, and Camdyn, you never know with her.”

Her eyes find mine, the flickering of the fire dancing golden light on her perfect skin. “I can’t believe Sev caught me touching yourboy parts.” She starts giggling.

“I’m not laughing,” I grumble, annoyed.

“I’m sorry. Your family is nice.”

“If you say so.” I drop my gaze to my hands, the callouses on my fingertips dragging against the roughness of my jeans when I pull my cell phone out and set it on the coffee table in front of us. “I’m sensing you’re not close with your family?”

“No. I’ve never been close with them. I have an aunt I like who lives in San Diego, but my parents… I don’t know. I was close with my dad growing up, but he got so into his own life and his music that he didn’t notice his daughter was heading in the wrong direction.”

“Wrong direction?”

“I was a bit of a rebel when they weren’t looking.”

I laugh lightly. “Weren’t we all?”

“I know Morgan was.” She snorts, shaking her head.

“That’s an understatement. So your dad’s in music?”

“Yep.” She nods. “Russell Randal.”

My eyes widen. “The drummer for Final Order?”

“That’s him.”

“You don’t have his last name?”

Shifting, she turns toward me, her legs crossed under her. “Nope. My mom didn’t want me to have his name because everyone would know who I was. Only daughter of a famous drummer, well, she wanted me to have a more private life.”

“And did you?”

“If you mean being raised by my nanny and private schools, sure.”

“But everyone still knew who you were, didn’t they?”

“Unfortunately. I only got attention because of who my parents are.”

“Something tells me that’s not entirely true.” I reach over, sweeping her hair from her neck. “I have no idea who your family is, but you still caught my attention.”

A soft laugh escapes her, and I fight through the urge to grab her by the ankles and lay her flat on the couch so I can settle between her legs. And then the urge collapses all my rational thoughts, and I do just that. “That’s because I rammed my car into the side of your building,” she says, giggling when I have her on her back.

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