Chapter 11

Eleven

Cassie

By the time I unlock my front door and step into the peaceful solitude of my living room, there's not a part of me that doesn't hurt. I got conned into a double. The ER was down a nurse when my shift ended at ten. Why? Because someone tweaking on God only knows what decided to put her in a headlock which was way tighter than anyone could have imagined. Now, she's in the fucking hospital under observation because she passed out, hit the floor, and has a concussion.

Kicking off my shoes, I put them in the closet by the door. I strip off my scrubs and everything else and it all goes straight into the washer. The only upside to pulling that double is that I now get two whole days off before I have to be back at the hospital.

I'm standing at the sink in my kitchen, buck ass naked, washing my hands so I can scarf down whatever leftovers can be scrounged from the fridge. And that's how Cam finds me. He opens my bedroom door, and leans against the frame in that sexy, bad boy way of his.

"So are you the naked chef now, or what?"

"No, Mr. Germaphobe. You'll be happy to know that whenever I come home, I immediately put my nasty, gross scrubs in to wash. Typically, I have a robe in the closet but I seem to recall that you talked me out of it in the bedroom yesterday morning while I was trying to get ready for work."

He grins. "That's right. I did. And you were plenty loud, Cass, but I don't think you were complainin'."

"Cocky little shit," I mutter under my breath. But he hears me. I know he hears me because he starts laughing.

"It's not cocky if it's true, babe. That's confidence. And there's a turkey sub from Sally's in the fridge. No tomato and loaded with pepper jack, just the way you like it."

I am aware that chowing down on a sub while I'm standing naked in the middle of my kitchen is not exactly sexy. Feral? Definitely. "Let me shower and then … then I will eat. Right now, I just feel gross."

"I might have another surprise for you … a little bit more luxurious than a turkey sub. Come on."

I follow Cam into the bedroom, fully aware of the fact that I am naked and he is not. But when he opens the bathroom door, I forget everything. Candles. Soft music. A steaming hot bath with bubbles.

"You just earned major brownie points," I tell him. "When did you do all this?"

"When you texted me that you were leaving the hospital," he replied. "You've had a hell of a day, Cass. And night. Twenty-four hours on is too damn much. Now, get in that tub. I'll bring you a glass of wine and might even rub your feet."

"What's the catch?" I ask him.

"No catch. Sometimes a foot rub is just a foot rub, Cass."

I step deeper into the bathroom and climb into the tub. It's bliss. Instant bliss. I let out a groan as the hot water reminds me just how many hours have been spent on my feet. A couple of minutes go by, and Cam comes back in with a glass of wine. My favorite. I don't ask how he knows these things. If there is one thing I've figured out about Cam it's that he sees everything.

He perches on the edge of the tub, lifts one of my feet onto his lap and starts to knead.

"Jesus Christ! I'm gonna drown in this tub," I tell him, my head falling back against the rim.

He just grins as he keeps rubbing my feet. It's the one thing no one ever told me about being a nurse—that your feet and legs will absolutely pay the price. And my back isn't exactly getting off scot-free either.

The room is quiet. The occasional splash of water and the low music are the only sounds. And it hits me then that this is the first time since my Mamaw died that anyone has taken care of me. It's a good feeling and a lonely one all at the same time.

"What's wrong?" he asks, picking up on the shift in my mood.

"Nothing. Just … don't break my heart, Cam. Don't be nice and sweet and attentive and all the things that I've ever dreamed you would be, and then break my heart. There are some things you just can't come back from."

He nods. "It isn't just you, you know? You have the power to hurt me too, Cass. And I've never let anyone else have that. I've purposely avoided getting involved with any woman who might make me feel more than I was willing to. But that didn't seem to matter with you. And now … I'm not walking away from you. Not for anything."

It'safternoon by the time I wake up. I managed to wolf down half of my turkey sub before crawling into the bed and going comatose. The other half is currently calling my name. My stomach is rumbling as I pad barefoot out to the kitchen wearing Cam's discarded T-shirt.

There's a note on the counter. He went for a run with Troy. I check my phone and see a text thread with Ashley, Emma and Lizzie. Ashley is drowning right now. Just covered up with one problem after another and every damn one of them can be traced back to her shithead of a father.

Taking a pen from the drawer, I add my own note to the bottom of Cam's before getting dressed. Ratty old sweats and a T-shirt that's already covered in four different shades of paint are not exactly a glamorous look. As an afterthought, I grab the turkey sub to eat on the way.

By the time I get to Ashley's new place, the hunger has abated, the fog of sleep has lifted, and I realize just how bad things are. I'm not a snob. I know lots of people who live in trailers. I lived plenty of my life in one too. But this is no ordinary trailer. This is straight out of the seventies and I'm pretty sure it's not been touched, or cleaned, since then.

I park and climb the terrifyingly rickety steps to a deck that has definitely seen better days. The wood depresses under my feet like a wet sponge. The door is hanging so precariously, I'm afraid to knock on it. "Hello?"

"Come on in! We're in the back."

That was Lizzie. Her voice definitely carries. Easing the door open, I step inside and realize it's way worse than I thought. I'm pretty sure the carpet used to be shag. But it's compressed under so many years of dirt that it's impossible to tell. Stepping gingerly on what appears to be the cleanest parts, I make my way to the back bedroom and immediately sigh with relief. This room is clean. Like clean, clean. The carpet has been stripped, the walls have been painted. Even the subfloor, which looks new, has been covered with a coat of primer. And Ashley, Lizzie and Emma are filthy.

"You heifers really know how to party."

Ashley nudged a bucket full of cleaning supplies at me with the toe of her very dirty sneakers. "You don't get to talk shit until you're elbow deep in it with us."

"How's the bathroom?"

"It's done. What's left is the kitchen and the living room and the other bedroom," Emma says. "We started with the bathroom and the bedroom so Ashley could at least sleep here tonight."

"On the floor?" I ask.

"No. Cody, Troy, and JT are bringing the furniture over later … and Cam, too, if his germaphobic ass doesn't have a cow the minute he walks through the door."

Oh, he will. And I can't wait to see it.