“You need to get out more, especially if the only time you’re social includes a man with dementia and a loaded gun,” Robbie said, his voice pitching higher than I’d ever heard in high school as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, maybe I could take you to dinner?”
“I’m sorry?” I asked him, my head tilted to the side in genuine confusion. “You want to take me to dinner?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged with a sheepish smile.
“You…you don’t like me,” I said slowly, shaking my head.
He’d always gone for the prom queens—the girls who had perfected their makeup by middle school. The ones in Buena Vista, where we’d gone to school, who were styled and Instagrammed. I was twenty-five and didn’t even have a personal Instagram account…or any interest in Robbie.
“I mean, you’re single. I’m single. Makes sense, right?”
“Sure, if humans were an endangered species or something.” I immediately regretted my brash words when he looked away. “You know there’s life outside Alba, Robbie. You don’t have to date within town limits just because you’re all grown-up now.”
“True,” he admitted with a cringe. “Oh man, I bet you’re not ready yet, huh? Shit, that was a dick move.”
“What, asking me out after Art Daniels pulled a gun on me?”
He blinked. “No, I mean, maybe you’re not ready to date yet…” His eyebrows rose.
Seriously.
“Oh. I’m okay, really. Not that I don’t miss Sullivan, but it’s been six years.” Time moved slower in small towns, I supposed. I’d healed my heart in the years I’d spent at college, but everyone here acted like we’d buried him last week.
Guess I was still supposed to be traumatized.
“Right. Good for you, keeping strong,” he said with a nod and a pat on my back before answering a summons from the group at the edge of the tree line.
It was too dark to make out who they were, but my bet was the usual suspects—sans Dad. Had Dad been here, he would have gone ballistic.
Xander headed for Mr. Daniels, and I found myself drawn to Cam’s side just like a million times before.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I said before I thought better of it. Mouth, engage filter.
“Me either.” His eyes stayed locked on Xander and his dad. “What were you doing out here?” he snapped.
“Looking for your father.” I bristled at his tone.
“Well, you sure as hell found him.”
“I help search all the time. It’s no big deal.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“And how many times has he pulled a gun on you?” His gaze swung slowly to mine, and the darkness was suddenly more of a blessing than ever. I saw enough in those eyes to know he was pissed.
“Never. And I’m sure Xander will lock up the guns and it won’t happen again.”
Cam scoffed. “Yeah, okay. He could have shot you.”
“Well, he did shoot you.” I poked his armor-plated vest.
A ghost of a smile passed over his lips, and I nearly crowed in victory.
“Looks like he’s about ready to go,” Cam noted as Mr. Daniels shook off Gideon’s offered arm to help him across the uneven terrain. “Still stubborn as ever,” he muttered as his father approached.
“Must run in the genes, or did you not remember me warning you that he wasn’t going to remember you?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. Cam had always done better if he could turn the hurt into something laughable. Not that this was.
“Remember him?” Mr. Daniels answered instead, stopping just in front of Cam. He was only a couple of inches shorter than his son but had the kind of presence that made him larger than life. “I shot you.”
“You did.” Other than the clenching of his right fist, Cam showed no emotion. Guess that hadn’t changed, either.
“Art,” Captain Hall said as he clapped Mr. Daniels on the shoulder. “Not sure if you can see in all this dark, but this is—”
“I know exactly who it is,” Mr. Daniels seethed.
I mentally prepared myself for what this episode of dementia was going to gift us with.
Cam cocked an eyebrow as Mr. Daniels glared.
“This is the son of a bitch who killed my Sullivan.”
I gasped, sucking in air as I reflexively stepped close enough to Cam to brush my arm against his. He may as well have been a statue for all the reaction he showed. “Mr. Daniels—”
“I don’t know why the hell you’re here, but you can see yourself right back out.” He cut me off, effectively dismissing the son he hadn’t seen in six years.
Then he turned his back on Cam and walked toward the tree line, Captain Hall at his side.
“Cam,” Xander called softly. Whatever he saw in Cam’s eyes led him to shake his head and walk away, following his father.
“I’m so sorry. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” I whispered around the lump clogging my throat.
“Sure he does. And he’s right.” He looked down at me with a vacant-eyed smirk that sent me straight back to high school. He’d always been able to put a million miles of distance between us—between anyone—with a single look. “Told you he’d remember me.”
He walked off toward his family.
“Cam!” I shouted in a desperate attempt to keep him here just a little longer—the Camden who had stepped out in front of his father’s gun to shield me. But his transformation into cold, zero-fucks-given Camden was already underway.
“Go home, Willow.”
And now complete.
I watched him disappear into the trees and battled the bone-deep urge to follow. So much for the idyllic homecoming I’d foolishly let myself fantasize about over the years.
But he was here. He was home.
And I desperately wanted to know why.
Chapter Three
Camden
It had been naive of me to think I might make it a day, or even two, before someone mentioned Sullivan’s death—or my role in it.
I’d made it roughly twenty minutes in my father’s company, and he’d already shot me and accused me of fratricide. Welcome home.
Silence kept me company as we hiked back down to the house, our flashlights and headlamps bobbing along the way. There were eleven of us, since Acosta had walked Willow home.