“I never hooked up with Cam for a reason. He only had eyes for one Bradley girl, and it wasn’t me.” There was zero teasing in her tone or expression.
“Wh-What?” I sputtered. That was definitely not the answer I’d expected.
“Think about it. You’re the only girl who’s lasted more than five minutes in his orbit. He may have glanced at other girls, but he only saw you.”
“No. That’s not…” But it was true. Just not in the way she thought. “He sees me like a sister.” That was why he’d protected me growing up. Why he walked me to the bus when Scott Malone started teasing me. Why he sat across the aisle on the half-hour ride from Buena Vista back to Alba. Why he did everything until we got older and then he…stopped.
“Because you almost were his sister. But don’t be blind, Willow. He looked at you for years. He only stopped when you got together with Sullivan.”
That was impossible. “No, you’re wrong. Cam never cared that Sully and I started dating. He was barely speaking to me anyway. I annoyed the crap out of him by then.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay. If you say so.”
“I do!”
“Yep. Okay. See you tomorrow. Good night!” She shut the door, leaving me gawking up the stairs.
“You’re wrong,” I muttered, but having the last word didn’t make me feel any better.
She was so wrong that it wasn’t even funny. I balked the entire drive home, mumbling to myself as I parked in the garage of my house. Charity had zero idea what she was talking about. Cam had been relentlessly apathetic that last year. He hadn’t given a crap what I’d done.
I picked up the onyx rook from my desk and rolled it between my fingers.
The path rejected me. It didn’t want me, so I decided not to want it.
His earlier words ran on repeat through my brain as I readied for bed.
“You’re wrong, Charity,” I whispered into the dark. Not because I wanted her to be but because I needed her to. And Cam did, too.
But what if she was right?
Chapter Seven
Camden
I held my breath and turned the key in the ignition. It cranked for a second, then turned over, the Scout’s engine roaring to life.
“Yes!” I stood, my fists raised toward the sky in victory.
The 1967 International Harvester Scout hadn’t run since before I’d left for basic, even with Uncle Cal’s magic touch. It had taken a new alternator, belts, hoses, and more than a few prayers to a God I wasn’t sure I believed in, but she was running.
I brought my hand down to the rail that ran across the windshield and nodded to myself, savoring the momentary high of satisfaction. I’d been in Alba a full week and had managed to scrub down the house, change the oil in the Scout and the snowmobile, schedule the roof repair, and stock groceries.
It was the most domestic I’d been since…ever.
Then again, it had only been a week, and I’d already broken my vow to never see Willow again three times. Which was why I’d kept my ass here at the house today. At this point, my well-meant vow to leave her to her happiness was turning into a well-intentioned suggestion.
Now, if only I could stop thinking about her, that would be great.
I jumped down from the Scout, letting her run in the open air to charge her battery. Which reminded me—batteries were next on my checklist.
The power shed door stuck momentarily, but a nudge of my shoulder persuaded it to open. I stepped from the side of the garage into the small room and whistled.
Apparently, Uncle Cal had been going all Doomsday Preppers in his last few years. No less than twenty solar batteries sat on their industrial shelves, all wired from the roof’s panels to the electrical grid of the house. Three would have kept the house running twenty-four hours a day without hooking up the generator.
Twenty-five was definitely apocalypse compound level: expert.
At this point, he just should have harnessed the creek and put in a micro-hydroelectric system. Those suckers were clean and efficient.
My cell phone buzzed in my back pocket. I reached for it, then swiped it open when I saw Dorothy’s name pop up.
“Camden?”
“Hi, Dorothy. Did you get that list of home care providers I left yesterday?” I asked, checking the date on the closest battery.
“You mean the one you left in the mailbox because you were too chicken to come in?”
A smile lifted the corners of my mouth. “Yep, that’s the one.”
“I did, and I passed it along to Alexander. Now, you asked me to call if he was having a good day, just like I did yesterday and the day before.”
Pressure settled in my chest. “And he’s having another one today?”
“Well, he knows you’re here and remembered kicking you out last week, so I’d say yes.”
Silence stretched longer than the half mile between our houses.
“Camden Daniels, are you coming down here?”
My head rolled as my eyes drifted skyward. “Is he going to scream at me from the porch like he did yesterday?”
“Probably.”
I could practically see her shrugging from here. “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“I’ll get my bulletproof vest.”
I hung up the phone, noting that the solar batteries were dated from nine years ago. That gave me another six years, more or less, before they expired.
“You really were prepared for exile, weren’t you, Uncle Cal?” I asked aloud.
Depending on anyone else is what will get you, Cam. You have to be self-sufficient in every area of your life.
The advice he’d given me when I was fourteen answered for him.
After hurrying through a shower and parking the Scout back in the protection of the garage, I headed over to Dad’s in the Jeep.
Winds had picked up again, making the pine trees sway. Weather must be moving in. Score one for not being on the town’s electricity grid.
I pulled through the tree line and stopped in front of Dad’s, putting the Jeep into park. Then I mentally strapped on whatever armor I had with a resigned sigh and headed for the door.
I’d no more climbed the steps than Dad burst through the front door, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, hair combed, waving his finger at me.
“You’re not welcome here, Camden. I told you that yesterday.”
I pushed back my instinctive fuck-you response, stopping on the last step. “I’m here to help.”