34. Sloane

CHAPTER 34

SLOANE

“ C ome on, Sloane. You need to go out tonight. I know you miss Cam, but I can’t in good conscience let you sit at home with your dad and Mack watching ESPN reruns on a Friday night. It’s not healthy.” Gracelyn crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot on the worn library carpet, two telltale signs she isn’t taking no for an answer. Not tonight.

“Fine,” I sigh, giving in. “I’ll go to Mustang’s, but only for one drink.” She does have a solid point about the ESPN reruns, which don’t sound appealing. Plus, I haven’t told her about Cam’s proposition yet—I wanted to have the convo in person.

“Yeah!” She claps her hands, then runs her fingers through my ponytail. “Can I do your hair for you? A blowout? Maybe soft curls?”

“Don’t push it.” I shoot her a warning glare. “I’m getting one drink, not picking up a new man. How about we concentrate all our efforts on you?”

Gracelyn huffs out a breath. “What for? You and I both know there’s not one single guy left to date in Thunder Creek. I’ve lived here my whole damn life and run through most of them. Plus, you already snagged the most eligible bachelor in town.”

Damn, another good point. She’s full of them today.

“Fine. How about we go and enjoy each other’s company then? Spend some time polishing up your online dating profile.”

“Waste of time. Maybe we can convince Mike to let us take over DJ duties and play good music for once.”

The chance of that happening is about as likely as me letting Gracelyn give me a makeover, but I hold back that comment.

“Sure. Meet at Mustang’s at eight?”

“No, I’ll pick you up. That way you for sure can’t bail on me.” She gives me a knowing look. “See you later!”

With a quick squeeze of my arm, she spins and sashays out of the library. The rest of my shift flies by. I restock all the books on the cart, finish rereading the next book club selection—my personal favorite, Pride and Prejudice —and tidy up the Reference desk for Ms. Mabel. As soon as the clock hits six p.m., I tuck in my chair and skip out of the quiet building to the parking lot.

I’d never admit it to Gracelyn, but I’m kind of glad she talked me into going out. Spending yet another night at home with my dad sounds downright depressing.

Buzz, buzz.

Cam: Hey, Trouble. You still at work?

Sloane: No, just finished. How are you? Did you get the contract?!?

Cam: Not yet. I have a meeting with the Coach and the GM tonight

Sloane: Sounds promising. What’s your agent saying?

Cam: He thinks it’s good news

Sloane: YESSSS!

Cam: I know. I’ve been searching for rentals. What do you think about this one?

A link pops up and I click it, photos of a gorgeous high-rise overlooking the Atlantic Ocean filling my screen.

I’m in love.

Sloane: CAM—that’s amazing

Cam: Good, glad you like it

Cam: If I get an offer, we can check it out

Cam: Assuming you’re still in…

Sloane: Absolutely. I haven’t told my dad yet

The three text bubbles swirl, then disappear, then swirl again. I stare at the screen, waiting. Finally, Cam replies.

Cam: Want me to talk to him?

Sloane: That’s sweet of you, but it’ll be better coming from me. Thanks though

Cam: Okay, babe. Whatever you need, I’m there

My chest squeezes as I read his words.

Whatever you need, I’m there.

This is the Cam I know and love. He’s back in his element and everything’s coming together for him.

For us.

Sloane: I love you

Cam: I love you too

Cam: Ok, babe. I gotta jet and get ready for dinner

Cam: Miss you

Sloane: Miss you too. Call me as soon as you finish with the coach!

Cam: Will do

Sloane: XOXO

Cam: xoxo

I toss my cell into the passenger seat and drive home, belting out every word of Taylor Swift’s “End Game” on the way.

Cam’s my end game. I’ve never felt surer of anything in my life—or been happier.

Mustang’s is bumping when Gracelyn and I stroll in. All the high tops are taken, and the booths flanking the walls are filling up, too.

“The bar!” Gracelyn shouts over the loud country music, something by Kane Brown with a fast beat and a lot of bass.

I link fingers with her and we traverse the crowd, scooting in between tables and various groups of people waiting for a seat. We finally make it to the bar, but the scene’s not much better here.

“Damn, Grace—you should have opened a bar instead of working at the salon. Seems like Thunder Creek needs another hot spot.” I glance up and down the long, wood bar, trying to find at least one empty stool.

Spying an empty barstool at the far end, I drag Gracelyn hard to the left, practically jogging to grab the last two red pleather seats.

“Sit!” I pat the stool and Gracelyn slides up onto the chair, triumphant.

“Good eye, Sloane.” She high-fives me before turning and squinting up at the drink menu scrawled on a chalkboard. “What are you drinking?”

“Not tequila.” My stomach swirls at the mere mention of the liquor.

Gracelyn giggles. “I don’t know, results recommend that drink.”

“Funny. But no, thank you. I’m not sure I’ll ever drink tequila again.”

“What’ll it be, ladies?” A young guy in a tight T-shirt and even tighter jeans saunters up to take our order.

“I’ll have white wine.” I point to an open bottle behind the bar. “That one works.”

“Gotcha. What about you?” The bartender turns his dark eyes on Gracelyn and she gnaws at her lip, debating .

“Oh, what the hell. It’s Friday night. I’ll take a tequila on the rocks, with a lime.” She glances over at me. “Since it worked so well for you.”

“Nice.” The bartender gives Grace an approving nod, his gaze lingering on her ample chest before getting to work on the drinks.

Two minutes later, he slides a tall glass of wine and the tequila across the bar on black cocktail napkins.

“Cheers.” He shoots Grace a smirk and a tip of the chin before moving off to take another order.

I take a sip of wine and sneak a peek at my cell. No messages.

“You waiting on a call from Cam? That’s like the thousandth time you’ve checked your phone tonight.” Grace thumps her fingers on the bar in time with the thumping beat.

“Yeah. He’s probably getting an offer tonight.”

“What? That’s amazing! With Fort Lauderdale?”

I nod. “Yep. Camp’s been going great and the coach really likes him. Said he’ll be an asset for the offense, the missing piece.”

“That’s super, babe!” Gracelyn smiles at me, her eyes bright beneath the neon glow of the Drink Beer Here sign on the wall.

“I know. I’m happy for him.”

“What does that mean for y’all, though? He’s leaving Thunder Creek again then, right?”

“Yes, he’ll be moving down there.” I take another quick sip, the sharp tang burning my throat on the way down. “And he asked me to go with him.”

“Wha-what?” Gracelyn sputters on her drink, tiny droplets of clear liquid splattering the bar. She wipes the corner of her mouth, then the wooden countertop. “You’re moving with him?”

I bite down on my lip, the bass shaking the stool beneath me. “I think so. I mean, we’re still working out the logistics. He doesn’t have a contract yet. So I haven’t gotten my hopes up or anything.”

“Ohmygod, Sloane! That’s still huge news for you two!” She squeezes my arm and smiles, but it doesn’t reach all the way to her eyes.

“Aww, babe. Don’t be sad.”

“I’m not. I mean, I am because I love having my bestie back home. But moving to Florida to be with your man? Understandable. I’d move too. In a freaking heartbeat.”

A weight lifts off my chest, knowing she’s speaking the truth. I’d be out of my mind if I turned down a chance to move in with Cam. A gorgeous professional football player who adores me? Yeah, there’s only one right answer here.

“Have you told your dad?” Gracelyn rattles the ice in her almost-empty drink.

“No. You’re the first person I’ve said anything to. I don’t want to jinx it, you know? And there’s no use getting into it with my dad over a possibility. I’m waiting until the offer’s a reality before I go there.”

“Girl, knowing you, you’ll wait until the moving truck’s in the driveway.” She nudges my elbow and I laugh.

“True.”

The bartender wanders over and leans across the bar in Grace’s direction, his biceps flexing and straining the fabric of his T-shirt.

“You ladies want a refill?” He cocks his dark brow at Grace’s empty glass.

“Sure, why not?” She flashes him a smile and he licks his lips, swooping across the bar and snatching up her glass.

“What about you?” He reaches for my wine glass.

“I don’t know—it’s already kind of late.”

“Ohmygod, Sloane, it’s not even nine pm yet. Live a little! Besides, I might not have too many more nights out with my bestie.”

“Fine. One more drink. But that’s it.”

The bartender tips the wine bottle, filling my glass almost to the tippy-top. He pours Grace another tequila and squeezes a lime into the glass, then slides the drinks over the bar and winks.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, I lean over to Grace. “He’s kind of cute.”

She shakes her blonde curls. “He’s barely out of school, Sloane. Way too young for me.”

“You’re the one who told me I can’t be too picky, to broaden my horizons. Maybe you need to take your own advice.”

“Maybe…I’m more into the older guys now anyway. Stable, established. I’ve had to pay for one too many dates.”

“I hear that.”

“At least you won’t have to worry about that with Cam. Gawd, I need to head home and start randomly emailing men.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “It wasn’t exactly random. And I wouldn’t recommend that approach. I tried to recall the email, but I am glad I couldn’t figure it out.”

“Hey, Sloane. Grace.” Jamie slides up to the bar with a martini in hand, her assets perfectly displayed in a black satin cami and tight jeans. She jockeys for the stool next to mine, practically tapping the guy’s ass as he vacates the seat.

“Hey, Jamie.” Grace greets her cooly, pressing her glossy lips tight. I nod in her direction, but don’t smile.

And this is why I wanted to stay home tonight.

It’s nearly impossible to go out in Thunder Creek without running into someone you know. And in this case, I’m not exactly dying to sit here and shoot the breeze with one of Cam’s old flings.

“Cam’s not here with you?” Jamie’s scarlet hair shimmers under the pendant lights as she searches around for Cam. “I heard the two of you are together now. Finally, huh?” She runs her finger around the rim of her glass, staring at me.

“We are.” I clip out the words, not bothering to acknowledge the jab. “And he’s not here tonight. He’s out of town.”

I take a sip of wine and try to stay calm. Nothing good will come from me getting in a fight with this woman. The less I engage with her, the better.

“It’s so sweet how trusting you are. With him being a pro football player and all. A man that good-looking’s bound to get into a little trouble every now and again.” She arches a carefully penciled brow high, feigning concern for me.

“Cam? No way, Jamie. He and Sloane are serious,” Gracelyn hops in, defending me.

“I’m just saying. A red-blooded guy like that, so masculine, strong, and virile. A man like that has needs, you know?” She takes a sip of her drink, leaving a dark red lipstick stain on the rim. “If it were me, I’d be worried.”

Wine swirls in my stomach and nausea washes over me. I wipe my clammy palms over the thighs of my jeans and try not to panic.

What’s she talking about?

Jamie’s kohl-rimmed eyes grow wide, her thick fringe of lashes fluttering at me. “Oh. Bless your heart. You don’t know, do you? You haven’t seen the video.”

A sick, sinking feeling rolls over me and sweat beads at my hairline on the back of my neck.

“What are you talking about, Jamie?” Grace huffs out, exasperated.

Jamie slides her cell out of her leopard-print clutch, tapping the screen to life. Three quick clicks later, she’s offering the phone to me. I take it with shaky hands, acid rising in my throat.

The date in the corner of the video flashes—three days ago.

Cam was in Fort Lauderdale three days ago.

The quality of the video’s grainy and amateur, the angle not the best. Two women wearing lacy lingerie and heels walk across a dimly lit room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a twinkling city skyline. A bright light shines in the corner, throwing shadows across the floor. Low, deep voices rumble off-camera, directing the women to take off their clothes. Nervous giggles, then both women remove their bras and panties until they’re wearing only sky-high heels. Appreciative murmurs and wolf whistles screech through the speaker of the phone and a naked man steps toward the women.

Not Cam.

A tiny shot of cool relief rushes through me. Cam’s not with these women, fondling their breasts as they laugh and smile at the camera. Still, my chest tightens as I watch the scene. I feel Jamie’s stare over my shoulder and I don’t dare turn around.

I want to click out of this, preserve my innocent perceptions. But I can’t stop watching, drawn to the images on my screen.

The women flip their long hair, rubbing against the naked man as he kisses full breasts, then motions at someone to join him. A second man comes into view, pulling his shirt over his head. He’s wearing boxer briefs, his large erection bulging in the tight material. He lifts one of the women up and she straddles him, wrapping her legs around his muscular back. There’s more laughter and talking, then naked guy number one chugs straight from an open champagne bottle. The blonde opens her lips wide and he spits the bubbly into her mouth, closing her jaw and tipping her head back, forcing her to swallow. She makes a big show of it, touching her breasts and swiveling her hips. The guy smacks her round ass and she squeals.

“For fuck’s sake, Jamie. Cam’s not on this video,” Gracelyn snaps, scowling at Jamie.

“Keep watching.” Jamie motions at the cell.

Guy number two backs out of view, the brunette woman kissing him as they presumably move to the bed.

Then a familiar voice sounds from off-camera, directing the blonde to get on her hands and knees.

My stomach drops, my heart sinking even as my core clenches like a freaking Pavlovian dog. Trained to respond to that deep, commanding voice. The same voice that’s brought me to orgasm hundreds of times.

It’s Cam’s voice, although he’s still not on camera. The blonde’s eyes go wide, but she drops to her knees and puts her palms on the floor before licking her plump lips.

“Crawl to him.” Naked guy number one gestures over his shoulder, and I assume he’s pointing to Cam. The blonde does as she’s told, her narrow hips swaying back and forth, ass high in the air as she inches along the wood floor. The camera jostles as it’s repositioned to face an oversized bed. The brunette and guy number two are having sex in the background and there’s Cam, standing in front of the bed. The woman’s crawling toward him and naked guy one saunters over, slapping the blonde’s bare ass.

I stare at the screen, a bitter taste in my mouth.

No, this can’t be real.

Cam wouldn’t cheat on me.

And surely he wouldn’t be so stupid, so na?ve, to film something like this. To create video fucking evidence of his betrayal.

I want to erase the video, scrub the images from Jamie’s phone, the web. But most of all, from my memory.

But I can’t.

The blonde reaches up and pulls at Cam’s pants and that’s all I can handle.

I mash the pause button with a shaky hand, eyes burning, my breathing rapid and shallow. Hot tears prick behind my eyes and I slam the cell down on the bar.

I can’t watch.

Can’t see Cam with another woman, watch as his hands glide over her skin, his lips touch her body.

Shoving away from the bar, I push through the crowd, dodging drinks and elbows. I need to get out of here. Away from all the people, away from Jamie and the torrid sex video.

Away from the hot shame and humiliation.

“Sloane! Wait!” Gracelyn’s voice carries over the thumping bass as I run through the doors and spill out into the parking lot.

I’ve never been more embarrassed, more humiliated, in my entire life.

Everyone in town—hell, the world—probably knows about this besides me and Gracelyn.

How could Cam do this to me? All this time, I thought he was special, that we were special.

That we were a team.

Turns out, he’s just like every other guy.