Page 76 of Love Off Course

Sheridan

He’s heartbroken.

Destroyed and devastated.

Barely holding it together.

I know exactly how he feels because I’ve been there. Losing a parent was one of the most trying things I ever went through. As he stares ahead, a blank look on his face as we fly high through the clouds, I can’t help but see myself in him. Feel every ounce of his pain.

I want to comfort him and tell him everything’s going to be okay. That his dad lived a full life and he loved his son, but those are just words. Camilo doesn’t need to hear all that, just like I didn’t either when I was nine and lost my mother. He needs support. The strong, quiet kind. He needs someone to be his glue—to hold him together as he breaks apart. Camilo is fierce, that much is obvious, but he’s shattering. I can see it written all over his expressionless face because the eyes don’t lie.

His are angry and sad and confused.

He’s trying to make sense of how his father is gone.

As soon as he received the call, I booked us a flight to Florida. I texted Dad and told him I’d see him in LA. We dressed, packed,and were at the airport within hours. He needs to sleep because the next week is going to be a long, stressful one. The weight on his shoulders finally wins out because his eyes flutter closed and he’s soon breathing deeply. I pull my notebook out of my bag, continuing on with my checklist. I’ve texted Damian and Estefania to let them know. Then, I took Camilo’s phone and found important contacts there as well, making sure his mother and Carson knew too.

I soon fall into my element of planning and making things happen. In just under three hours, I have made a plan so Camilo won’t have to worry.

After we touch down, I guide him to the car service I’ve managed to secure. The driver loads our things in the trunk while I sit with Camilo in the back. He doesn’t say anything, just stares ahead. My heart breaks for him. I manage to get out of him where he lives so we can get some rest. I don’t have time to check out his place because it’s in the wee hours of the morning and he desperately needs to sleep. After kicking off our shoes, we fall into his bed that smells wonderfully like him. I spend the better part of the rest of the night running my fingers through his hair as he cries silently in the dark.

He doesn’t need words right now.

He needs this.

I waketo the morning Florida sun blinding me. Camilo is no longer in bed. With a yawn, I slide out from under the covers and take a moment to check out his room. It’s empty save for a bed and a dresser. No television. No decorations. No pictures. It feelscold to me and my heart aches a little for him. I’m not sure what I expected from his place, but it wasn’t this. I assumed his living space in the States would be just as vibrant as he is, like his villa in Mexico.

He’s never home.

But I’m never home and I still made my place livable. It’s a sanctuary when I am home.

Shaking away the melancholy feelings, I pad out of his room and into the living room. I can smell coffee and follow my nose over to it. He’s left a mug out for me, which makes me smile. After making a cup, I go on a hunt for him. I find him outside on his balcony, staring out at the side of another building. The place is nice with huge, full palm trees and a pretty courtyard below.

“Morning,” I say, settling beside him in the other chair.

“Yep.”

I sip my coffee and stare at him. He looks like hell. His dark hair is messy and sticking up. Dark circles ring his eyes. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes and they’re rumpled. I want to crawl into his lap and ask him if he’s okay, but I get a weird vibe coming from him. One that says he’s in a delicate mood and one wrong move will send him shattering.

“Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat,” I say softly.

“I don’t have anything. Never home. Fridge is empty.” He delivers his words with cold emptiness that makes me shiver despite the warm weather.

“I could pick something up,” I offer.

“Nah. Too much trouble.”

“Maybe we could get dressed and go eat?—”

“I’m not hungry, Sheridan,” he snaps. “I can’t fucking eat. In case you forgot, my dad died. I need to deal with that shit first.”

I bite my tongue, holding back fiery words of my own. He most certainly needs to eat and I’ll get some food into him. It’sgoing to be hard dealing with his attitude, though. While I get why he’s being a dick, it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“Right,” I say, sliding into business mode. “I’m going to get showered so we can take care of the funeral arrangements.”

I abandon my coffee and walk back into his condo. After locating my clothes and toiletries, I start the shower, undress, and hop in. I’m furiously scrubbing my hair when the shower door opens and Camilo steps inside behind me. My body warms several degrees as his nakedness presses against mine. He’s hard and his erection pokes against me.

“Camilo…”

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