“Last night, before you asked me to dance,” I tell him, “I was so unhappy, I wanted to feed myself to Nate and Shelby’s pigs.”
Now he’s guilt-frowning. “Didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just… I’m out of practice. Like I said.”
His apology is sweet. He’s a good guy. Maybe better than I deserve.
“Don’t sweat it, Hollander.” I mean it, and I hope he knows that. “It’s done. Behind us.”
Then I think about what’s in front of us. Medical tests. Maybe results that will turn my life upside down…
This time, I’m focused, and the poker face is firmly in place. There’s no way I’m ruining this moment by spewing my fears out like lava. But they’re there, churning inside me. My urgent need now is more comfort. Lots more. I want to hide away here in Cam’s flannel comfort house forever.
“Can I stay here tonight as well?” I ask him. “You can say no. I’ll be cool about it.”
He’s hesitating. He’s going to say no. I was totally lying about being cool.
“Doc said I wasn’t to overtire you,” he says.
Well, that was unexpected. It’s usually me who brings sex back into the conversation. I mean, thatiswhat he’s referring to. Isn’t it—?
As always, I opt for being direct.
“We can take breaks. And avoid – you know – positions that require serious cardio.”
He goes super still again. I may have miscalculated…
“Might also be a good idea,” he says, “if we locked the front door.”
ChapterEight
CAM
“Also, we need condoms,” I say to Ava. “Which means I’ll have to go to Martinburg.”
All Verity has to offer on Sundays are alcohol, pizza, and ice cream. In no particular order.
“Could swing by your folks’ place and pick you up a change of clothes?” I add.
Ava makes a face. “I can think of better ways to spend the afternoon,” she says.
“So can I. And condoms are a non-negotiable part of that. Pill or no.”
“But it’s a forty-minute round trip to Martinburg,” she protests.
Forty!? The Flora Valley Wines Dodge is slow, but it’s not that slow. Round trip for me is an hour.
“How the hell fast do you drive?” I ask her.
She gives a guilty little grimace. “Maybe just a teensy bit over the speed limit…?”
Teensy. Right.
“You want me to get clothes?” I prompt.
She looks cute in my shirt, but even with sleeves rolled up about five times, she’s swimming in it. Plus, she’s going commando and it’s not the weather for that at all.
“Is there anyone else you could borrow from?” she asks. “If you go to my parents’ place, you’ll get subjected to the full family inquisition. Believe me, it’s destroyed stronger men than you.”
I know she’s being flippant, but the “stronger” gut-punches harder than it should. Once upon a time, I thought of myself as strong. Came to realize I had no idea what the word even meant. Spent the last few years trying to achieve some semblance of real strength, but most days, it feels like it’s a goal I have no way of reaching. And I worry that Ava sees me as something I’m not.