Chapter 9

Nine

Cassie

I'm a glutton for punishment. With Cam's spare key in my pocket, I'm packing an overnight bag with my work stuff and a few toiletries. I definitely do not glam it up to go in for a shift in the ER. If that shift happens to be a weekend or a full moon, which tomorrow is, it's pointless to do anything to make myself presentable. I'll be covered in puke, blood or pee before midnight. And that's if it's a slow night.

I take another glance around my bathroom. Satisfied I've got everything I need, I tuck my toiletry case and makeup bag into the paisley weekender bag that is the staple of every self-respecting Southern woman's wardrobe. I hate to even think about how deliberately I weighed every single decision about what to put in that bag. Take too much, it looks like I want to move in. Take too little, and it looks like maybe I don't want to be there. And even while I'm doing this, I know that I'm overthinking the fuck out of it.

"Just get it together, Cass. Stop being a neurotic mess," I tell myself as I tuck my phone charger into the bag. I'm almost to the door when my phone dings alerting me to a text.

Cam: Brandon has been arrested. I'll tell you what I can later.

I type a message back. Then I delete it. Then I type another one—this one is about what really bothers me in this situation.

Did you know you were going to arrest him when I came to you about it the other day?

The read receipt pops up so there's no question he's seen it. Then those little dots pop up at the bottom of the screen. After a second, they go away. Then come back again. This time, they just sit there blinking at me. Then, after the longest time, my phone rings. It's Cam. It wouldn't be anyone else.

"Hello?"

I hear a heavy sigh from him. "I couldn't tell you, Cass. Believe me when I say that I wanted to. But there are things, especially a bust of this magnitude, that we can't ever speak of outside of work. Not beforehand anyway."

I get that. I do. I see shit in the ER all the time that I can't tell anyone about even though I really feel the need to. "That's hard to swallow, Cam. I don't think you're lying but … it's hard to know that I'm going to have to constantly worry about you keeping things from me. Because if you can keep this a secret, what else are you hiding?"

"That's not … Things are still new, Cass. Or new again. And we don't have the trust built between us for this kind of shit yet. Just, let me finish up the paperwork that I have to do and then I'll come home and we can talk about it."

"No. You come to my house." Because I can't be in his. I need to have my feet on solid ground while I unravel just why this has gotten under my skin so bad.

"Give me an hour and I'll be there," he says.

It's closerto an hour and a half when he knocks on my door. The last thirty minutes have been a hellish reminder of what it's like when Cam decides to check out. And that's not fair. I know what it is to get tangled up in paperwork when shit goes sideways with work. Part of me wants to be calm and reasonable about it. The other part of me is yelling that he's given me the excuse I need to walk away before getting hurt.

Opening the door, I see him standing there. His hair is mussed, his shirt untucked and he looks, if I had to put it in a word, worried.

"Are we okay?" The first question out of his mouth has put me on the spot.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "Maybe. Maybe not. But come on in. We'll talk about it at least."

Cam steps inside, closing the door behind him. "Cass, you are more important to me than you can even know. And I'm not gonna put a label on that because we're not there yet. Even if we feel it, neither of us is ready to say it."

"That's a fair assessment." And way more insightful about his feelings and mine than I expected him to be but saying that will not help the current situation.

"I fucked up before. I fucked up and then I ran. Because … I won't even say I'm not good at relationships. I've never tried to be good at relationships. You know what it was like growing up here. My dad was a cheating son of a bitch and everyone in town knew it."

Cam's dad had been the sheriff back when we were in school. And it was an open secret that he was sleeping around on Cam's mom. Not just having an affair but hooking up with different women through the course of their marriage. Seeing that would fuck anyone up. But when Cam's mom got sick, and then after she died, Cam had changed. Even though I hadn't been part of his circle of friends, it had been impossible not to be aware of that, not to see that there was a new callousness in him that hadn't been there before.

"This isn't about your dad, Cam. Or about your mom. Or about anything except the fact that you kept a pretty big secret–and I get that you had to–but it seems like it was way too easy for you. And that worries me."

He shoves his hands in his pocket and leans against the back of the door. "I can't promise you I won't keep secrets, Cass. That's part of the job. But I can promise you those secrets won't be about us or anything that could impact us."

It's what I want to hear. What I need to hear from him. But it doesn't make the doubts go away. Maybe if things had gone differently before. Maybe if he hadn't stood me up and then hooked up with Lucy, I wouldn't feel all this gnawing, horrible doubt. "I don't know. I wish I could tell you something different … but just because I've forgiven you doesn't mean I've forgotten. You kept secrets before. You lied to me before. Maybe it was a lie of omission, but it was still a lie.

"I know," he says, nodding. "I guess, the question, Cass, is whether or not the good outweighs the bad. Is what we've had for the last few days worth fighting for?"

It is. But if I have to fight for it, is it even meant to be? But I'm not ready to walk away. Giving that up is the last thing I want. I'm greedy for it—for him and the way he makes me feel. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that bullshit. "If you break my heart, Cam, I'm gonna take it out of your hide. Do you hear me?"

His lips curve slightly, just a hint of a smile. But it's what I see in his eyes that hits like a sucker punch. Relief. Hope. That's not just for show. Whatever happens between us, Cam's heart is in the right place. His intentions are good. Now, I just have to see if he can make it stick.

"So are you coming to my place, or am I staying here? Or are you kicking me to the curb for the night?"

I look around my little house. It's only ever been for me. Everything in it is girly and frilly. I took that Victorian cottage theme and ran with it like I was in a damn marathon. He always looks out of place here—but not in a bad way. But that sharp contrast only highlights so many of the things that make me love him. And I do love him. God help me, I always have. And that's not going to change. Whether I try to guard my heart by ducking and running or whether he decides he's done playing house with me and runs like the devil, the end result will be the same. I'll be alone in this house without him.

"No. I like having you here," I finally answer. "I like seeing you in this space."

"Because I look like a bull in a China shop?"

I laugh at that. "No. Because … there aren't any men in my life. No father. No relatives, really. It was my mom and whatever boyfriend she had of the week or my Mamaw. And Mamaw didn't have the time or patience to tolerate a triflin' man. Being in your house is fine, but I feel like a guest there. And that makes it feel like this is temporary. You being here … being in my space, that makes it feel more solid. And I know that's stupid."

He walks toward me, and when he gets close, he lifts his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks. "It's not stupid. And I get it. You're not the only one who's scared. You're not the only one who feels just how big and how important this is."

When he leans in to kiss me, it's not like anything else that's passed between us. Oh, it's hot as hell, and the man's mad skills are prominently on display. But there's a tenderness in it that takes my breath away. And sore or not, I want him. I want him to make me forget all the fear and doubt. So I break the kiss and take one of his hands in mine. "Come with me."

"Where to?"

"Bed."

"Anytime, Cass. Any damn time."