Page 54 of Fault Lines
Cam’s back went rigid, jaw clenching, anger lighting up his face. It almost made me laugh; for a man with his particular track record… “You’re not sleeping with him, correct?”
I stared, completely floored.
“What if I was?” I hissed, standing so quickly my chair scraped the patio. “What right do you have to ask me that? No, I’m not sleeping with him, but that’s my business. Not yours, not anymore.”
I slammed my glass on the table, louder than I’d meant to. The crystal fractured and a jagged wedge bit into my palm, right along the heartline. Blood welled up immediately.
Cam shot to his feet and caught my wrist, turning my hand over with rough urgency.
“Come on,” he muttered, steering me straight inside.
In the bathroom, he yanked open the medicine cabinet and dug out a tired-looking first aid kit. I stuck my hand under the faucet, watching the water run pink down the drain. He pulled me to him, gently dabbing at the wound, then slathered it with antibiotic cream before winding gauze and a sticky bandage around it.
“Thank you,” I said to the sink, my voice small and unfamiliar.
“I’ll always take care of you.” His words were so automatic I almost missed the edge of pain beneath them.
I didn’t answer.
He didn’t look at me at first, just focused on the bandaging. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. His shoulders slumped. “I know I shouldn’t question you, especially after everything. But Livi, the thought of you with someone else—it makes me see red.”
He lifted a hand to stop my retort. “I know. I know it’s not fair. I’m being a hypocritical asshole and I know it. Please just… tell me again you’re not sleeping with him.”
“I’m not.” That much, at least, was true. He didn’t need to know about the kiss.
He looked relieved, but then, “Are you planning to?”
I shook my head, slow and deliberate. I didn’t plan to. But I hadn’t planned that kiss either.
“You’re all I need,” I said finally. And it wasn’t even a lie. “I just wish it went both ways.”
He pulled me into his chest, his lips against my hair. “We’ll get back to that. I promise. I just need a little more time.”
A sound escaped me, a broken little sob, and I didn’t even try to stop it. “I don’t know how much time is left in me to give you, Cam. You’re tearing me apart.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. So, so sorry.” His tears were hot on my scalp, wet and real, and for a second the anger I’d carried felt small and foolish.
∞∞∞
When Cam’s alarm exploded the next morning—a shrill, hand-cramping ring—I groped for the phone, ready to heave it across the bedroom.
“Whoa there, Nelly,” Cam laughed, wrestling it away and killing the noise. “I’m going to need this in one piece.”
“I thought this was a vacation,” I groaned, burrowing deeper in the tangled sheets. “Why are we awake?”
He grinned at me, hair sticking up in wet clumps. “Because I’m renting jet skis and we’re going to have some actual fun. Coffee first, though.” He gave my butt a light smack and headed for the shower.
I stretched out on the bed, sore in the best possible way. The night before, Cam had been relentless, intense, almost desperate to show me I was still the only one. My body ached, and I reveled in every delicious twinge.
I wandered into the kitchen, seeking out the old coffee maker on the counter. I fumbled with the buttons, grateful I’d remembered to bring a bag of my favorite blend from the store—the stuff in the pantry here was probably older than our marriage.
As the coffee dripped, the warm, tangy aroma filled the cabin, pulling me back to life.
Cam strode in wearing nothing but a towel, skin damp and bronze from the shower. I let my eyes wander and didn’t bother to hide it; some routines deserved to be savored.
He caught me ogling and smirked. “Like what you see?”
“Haven’t I always?” I shot back.
