Scene 18

"I promise, as soon as we pull out of here, I'm going to text her and cancel," Kam said as the valet disappeared to bring up her car. "I don't know why I didn't just say no!"

"How could you say no to Terrine de Campagne?"

"Oh, my God." Kam groaned from behind the hands she flung over her face. "I'm so sorry!"

"Why?"

" Why ?" Kam dropped her hands. "Where should I even start? Them !" She tilted her head toward the house. "That entire family. Carter. My parents giving you the third degree. That stupid game. All of it. The whole night!"

There was something wildly endearing about the way her words all ran together when she was frustrated. About her unintentional dramatic flare.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I had a wonderful time."

Kam shot her a pointed glare. "You're being a smartass."

"Me?" Dillon donned her best expression of disbelief. "Never. I'm simply looking forward to hen's egg mayo and English cress in the morning."

"Oh, shut up!" Swatting at her with her purse, Kam laughed as Dillon easily caught her wrist, pulling her half a step closer.

"Careful, or I'll have to kiss you here with Mrs. Hallwell looking on." She flicked her eyes over Kam's shoulder to the second-story window, where a lone silhouette stood watching through the dew-streaked glass.

"I wish you would. It would feel like a win to send her rushing to her medicine cabinet to pound a fist full of valium."

The worn tires on Kam's Honda squealed across the damp brick of the driveway as the valet hopped out of the car. Dillon swiped up the keys, handing the boy a tenner, and opened the passenger door for Kam. "Up for a drive to the city?"

"Got some pressing ‘business' to handle?" Kam needled as Dillon jogged around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel.

"In fact, I do." She fumbled for the ignition and adjusted the rearview mirror. "I want to check out the bay. I'd like to see the distance between Alcatraz and the mainland."

Kam laughed. "And here I thought you actually had an ulterior motive for not wanting to stay with my parents." She kicked her feet out of her heels and propped them up on the dash. "I should have known you were just thinking about a swim!"

It was partially true. She was thinking about a swim. An unrated race that had nothing to do with the World Triathlon Championship Series. One that fell a week between Leeds and Montreal, the two most important competitions of the year. She didn't know if her coach, Alistair, would go for it. Two races in one month was one too many—three was absurd. Especially when one of them didn't count for anything. A little prize money. A striped black and white jersey that read I Escaped from Alcatraz . Bragging rights to say you swam, cycled, and ran in one of the most iconic cities in the world.

But—and it was the but that mattered—it got her back to California. Got her back to Kam.

She just couldn't admit any of that.

How pathetic would she look if Kam knew she was already contemplating plans to see her six months in advance when they hadn't even made it through a single night together?

It wasn't like her. Not one girl she'd dated since Kelsey had made her wonder where they'd stand the following week—let alone half a year later. Hookups. Weekend rendezvous. An occasional fortnight fling. None of them had meant much.

Yet here she was, arse-over-tits-stupid, trying to figure out how she could convince her sponsors that the Northern California race would benefit her season.

God, she had it bad.

Any other year, she would have been home in Wales, where it was already Christmas morning. She'd have been the first one up, brewing tea for her mam, grinding coffee for Seren, making a full Welsh breakfast. They'd exchange gifts. Her mam and Seren would chat over sparkling mead while she tried to recreate her father's recipe for laverbread in the kitchen. They'd all paste on a smile, stumbling through the holiday, pretending there wasn't a giant black hole in their lives that never got any smaller.

She hadn't missed a Christmas with them since her dad passed away. She hadn't dared. It was what she owed to them—her time, her presence, her willingness to share in the silent hurt that came with every holiday. It was her penance for all the heartache she had caused, the sorrow they'd endured brought on by her own making.

Never had they blamed her. Not once in all the years had her mam or Seren cast a single word of fault in her direction. They hadn't had to. She'd cloaked herself in guilt, carrying it like a millstone from which she could never escape.

Which, perhaps was why, when she'd mentioned Kam to her sister, she'd woken up the next morning to an email from her mother about the race in Santa Monica.

I think you should go to this.

Dillon had emailed back. Can't. It's over the holidays.

Her mam had replied: You should do what feels right. And immediately after, the following P.S.: Seren says you really like this girl. Please go, for all our sakes. Her stoic English mother had closed it with a winking face.

Five thousand miles later, her mam, as usual, had been right.

"I don't know what else you'd expect me to be thinking about," Dillon razzed Kam as she threw the car into drive. "That swim is one of the most famous water crossings in the world."

"Well, if it's caught that much of your attention, perhaps you'd like to drop me off at my parents' place so you can give it a go tonight? I wouldn't want to be a distraction."

"Ohh," Dillon cast her a sideways smile, "salty." They'd rolled to a stop at the end of the drive, the headlights fanning the iron gates as they slowly swung open. "I like this side of you, Kam-Kameryn."

"Yeah?" Kam pulled her bare feet from the dash, twisting in her seat to face her. "Tell me," she leaned as close as the seatbelt would allow before reaching a finger to trace a line from Dillon's ear, across her neck, and down to the top button of her blouse. "Do you like this side of me enough to table your one-track mind for the rest of the evening?"

Despite her eyes never leaving the road, Dillon nearly clipped the Hallwells' mailbox.

"Trust me, it's not that one-track," she said, veering back to the center of the tree-lined street rolling out through the darkness. "It's got plenty of latitude for wandering."

"I see," Kam smiled smugly as she abruptly withdrew her roaming fingertips and flopped back in her seat. "Then I guess I'll stick around." She flipped on the radio and closed her eyes. "Turn right on Marsh Rd. North on 101. Forty-five-minute drive and we'll dead end right into Aquatic Cove, which is where the swim ends. The race isn't until June, so you've got a little time to work it into your schedule."

Surprised, Dillon glanced over to see the corners of Kam's lips flicker in the light of the display panel.

"You think I'm considering doing that summer race, do you?" she asked, glad Kameryn's eyes were still shut so she couldn't see her idiotic smile.

Apparently she wasn't the only one looking toward the future.

"I don't know what happened! There are usually hundreds of them here." Kam's voice was muffled from behind the upturned collar where she had bundled herself into Dillon's jacket.

They'd found parking in one of the structures along the waterfront, and without much discussion between them, Kam had led the way down to the sea lion platform at the end of the tourist pier. It was after midnight, the streets were vacant, and the city was covered in a fine mist that turned the festive lights of the holiday into a starburst of color.

Dillon doubted marine life observation was a pressing subject on either of their minds, but she'd humored Kam all the same.

"I'm beginning to think you just like to lure me onto dark piers in the middle of the night to keep me up past my bedtime."

The docks below them were empty, with only a trio of the slumbering sea mammals hauled-out on the algae-covered jetty. Beyond the breakwater, Alcatraz flashed its silent warning as the mountainous silhouette of a cargo ship glided across the still surface of the bay.

"Hey, I'm not the one to be blamed for your lost sleep tonight." Kam hooked her index fingers in the pockets of Dillon's trousers, drawing her off the railing. "You turned down a perfectly good offer to stay with my parents where you could have caught all the Zs you wanted."

"It would have been a little awkward, don't you think, when I declined the guest sofa?"

Kam laughed but didn't immediately respond. In the dim glow of the pier lighting, it was difficult to make out her expression, to guess where her thoughts had drawn her. She'd grown nervous, Dillon knew, despite her bold banter, and had been stalling since they'd reached the city.

"I, um—I just wanted to say—before we—well, before I forget. I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" It wasn't what Dillon had been expecting. "What for?"

"All of it. Everything. For flying here when I know you could be home with your family. For convincing me to go to that stupid party. For reminding me how much I missed my parents. For coming with me. For laughing off the Hallwells and not allowing them to get under your skin. For—I don't even know—for making me feel like—like it's okay to just be me." She retreated behind an embarrassed laugh. "God, I'll stop now. I'm rambling."

Dillon didn't say anything. Her thoughts were split in two directions—one route hanging on the way Kam chewed her lower lip when she got nervous—the second path drifting over her shoulder to the black expanse of nothingness between where they stood and Alcatraz Island.

Three races in one month.

No problem .

"Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"Because I'm onto you, Kam-Kameryn," Dillon teased, pushing aside thoughts of June for the moment. "I see what you're about. You think flattery is going to talk me out of Isle of Mull cheddar in the morning." She reached up, tugging down the zipper below Kam's chin. "I'm sorry, but it's not going to work. You're not getting out of Christmas brunch."

Laughing at the turn in conversation, Kameryn slid her hands deeper into Dillon's pockets, drawing herself closer, until there was no space between them. "Then I'll take that as a challenge," she said, the warmth of her lips falling just shy of Dillon's. "I think it's time to convince you there are far better ways we could spend our Christmas morning."