Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
The sound of a plate sliding across the counter had me snapping out of my reverie. Cam was watching me, his brown eyes looking a little softer than they had a few minutes ago.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Sit,” Cam responded as he motioned to a small kitchen table that had replaced the one Jimmy had broken the night he’d brought me to this place when I’d been a kid. He’d knocked it over in a violent rage when I’d said something in front of his friends about how he’d been afraid of the dark when he’d been my age and that he’d cried like a baby. I’d only said those things because I’d been out of my mind with fear and had stupidly mouthed off to get even for Jimmy and his friends having some fun at my expense. I’d received the brunt of his anger after the table had broken nearly in half after he’d kicked it half a dozen times. Luckily, his friends had pulled him off of me.
“Ford.”
I jumped when something touched my arm. The plate in my hands hit the floor and broke into several pieces. I spun around, expecting to see Jimmy standing behind me, but it was Cam. He held his hands up.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked when I realized I’d allowed myself to get transported to the past.
“It’s okay,” Cam said gently. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should have found a different way to get your attention.”
I laughed at that. It was an ugly laugh that made me sound psychotic. “Yeah, because it’s totally unreasonable to touch someone who’s standing in the middle of your kitchen, ignoring you.”
I dropped to my knees to start cleaning up the broken plate. Cam knelt next to me and caught my wrist gently with his hand.
I swallowed hard at my body’s reaction to the soft contact.
“I don’t want you to cut yourself. I’ve got a broom and dustpan. Go sit,” Cam urged.
“I’ll pay for it,” I offered.
“Okay, you owe my ex about fifty cents because not only did I somehow manage to keep this plate when I kicked his ass to the curb, he was a cheap bastard and this and the other three matching white plates that I plan to use for target practice in the very near future were a gift.” Cam paused for a moment to let his words sink in, then added with an arched eyebrow, “An anniversary gift.”
There were so many things I needed to process with that statement, but all that came out was, “You’re married?”
Cam smiled and pulled me upright.
“He and I were never married. Different kind of anniversary.” He led me to the table and had me sit, then sat down across from me and took my right hand in his. I held my breath. He must have heard me do it because he stilled and looked at me. “Just wanna check to make sure you didn’t cut yourself.”
Right.
Of course.
I nodded. I was about to tell him I hadn’t but it occurred to me that he’d probably stop checking me the second I did.
So I held my tongue.
And didn’t care what the devil or Reverend Page or anyone had to say about it in that moment.
Because Cam’s fingers felt incredible against my skin.
“What happened, Ford? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”
I realized he was talking about right before I’d dropped the plate.
“Ghosts aren’t real. Souls go to heaven or hell. My mom says there isn’t a world between where they ‘linger.’”
“What do you say?” Cam asked. He was holding my wrist with one hand and running the fingers of his other over my palm as if to check for tiny cuts by feel alone.
“I don’t,” I automatically said. I had no clue why I responded with those particular words until he looked up at me in surprise.
Then I did know.
Because it was the only way I could explain things to him without really explaining them.
“I don’t say anything. It’s better that way.”
Cam held my gaze for what felt like forever.
“For who?” he finally asked.
I swallowed hard and forced my eyes up from where I’d been watching his fingers move over my skin.
“For everyone.”
Chapter Seven
Cam
He wasn’t seeking pity with the words. In fact, he’d said them in a way that meant the conversation was over.
I should’ve just let it be that.
Over.
But something about sitting there at my little table with him, checking his hand for cuts… it was a level of intimacy I’d never had before. Granted, I’d been with Carter for years, but this was what our entire relationship had been missing.
This trust.
This warmth.
This… contentedness.
Admittedly, a little part of me was still pissed with Ford for the way he’d pulled away from me in the truck when I’d tried to comfort him, but it was hard to hang onto the anger. He’d been so pale and tense as soon as we’d started down the driveway of my property, but it’d seemed like more than him just being nervous or upset that I’d brought him to my place. It’d been just a few minutes earlier, right before he’d dropped the plate… it’d looked like he’d seen a ghost.