“That it is,” he says. “Who’s this delightful young lady with you?”
“Dottie and Jim Marshall, this is my girlfriend, Devyn. Devyn, these are Cam’s parents.”
Devyn goes ashen. She whispers to me, “As in Cameron?”
Dottie says, “You look like you need to sit. Come inside. I’ll make lemonade.”
Devyn gives me the stink eye as we go in. Technically, I didn’t lie to her. This isn’t about her parents. It isn’t even about her. My hope is that it will help her understand that life after what happened to us is possible.
“What brings you to Dallas?” Jim asks.
“Nothing special. We were out for a drive. Might stop at a bookstore later. It’s nice to get off the ranch from time to time.”
Dottie pops her head out of the kitchen. “There’s a new bookstore on the corner of Fifth, past the Burger King. A friend of Jim’s runs it. You should go there.”
“Sure thing.”
Jim brings his laptop over to the couch, opens it, taps around, and pulls up a picture of a young Asian lady.
“Is that who I think it is?” I ask.
“Yessiree,” he says, smiling. “The second official recipient of the Cameron Marshall Memorial Scholarship.”
Dottie returns with a tray of drinks and sees what we’re looking at. “Isn’t she as cute as a button? She’s only seventeen. Graduated high school a year early with a perfect GPA. You should read her essay. She doesn’t ride in cars unless they’re fully electric. Otherwise, she walks or bikes. Her goal is to work on electromagnetic propulsion and reduce the need for diesel-fueled vehicles by having a high-speed network of trains utilizing electrical current and magnetic fields.”
“She sounds smart. That’s right up Cameron’s alley.”
Dottie smiles. “He would have loved it.”
I know what Dev’s thinking. How can I, the person responsible for Cameron’s death, be talking to his parents?
Dottie notices Devyn’s confusion. “Surely Aaron has told you about the foundation?”
“Actually, no.”
“But you’re his girlfriend, right?”
I pat Devyn’s hand. “It’s still new. We don’t know everything there is to know about each other yet.”
Dottie sits next to Devyn on the couch. “Then let me fill you in. Aaron was generous enough to set up a foundation in Cameron’s name. It will pay for people like Suni, who shared Cameron’s save-the-world views, to get an education that will help them save the environment.”
Devyn puts it together. “Your oil well.”
I nod. “All the profits go to the foundation.”
“Isn’t that kind of ironic, though? Digging for oil isn’t good for the environment.”
“Not the way most people do it,” I say. “I told you, I’m working on a cleaner way to do it.”
Devyn looks from Dottie to Jim to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t get what’s going on here.”
“You mean, do we not know how our son died?” Dottie asks. “Of course we know about Cameron. We also know what happened was a terrible, horrific accident. These two were best friends. Cameron brought him home—I don’t know how many times. We got to know Aaron, and he became like a second son to us, especially since his parents were halfway across the country. It would be pointless for us to blame him. That wouldn’t bring back Cameron. He was nearly twenty years old—plenty old enough to know better. If anyone was to blame, it’s Cam. But this foundation is keeping his memory alive. Seeing Aaron does that, too.”
Devyn is clearly at a loss for words.
“Jim and Dottie, you should know Devyn has gone through something similar to what I did.”
Dottie’s arm immediately goes around Devyn. “No wonder you’re so pale.” Dottie smacks the back of my head. “You blindsided the poor girl, didn’t you?”
“I thought if she could see we’re okay—”
“Sweetie,” Dottie says. “I don’t know what happened, and I’m not going to ask. But I will tell you this: forgiveness can’t come from anyone else. The only person who absolutely has to forgive you is you.”
Devyn shakes her head. “I’m not sure I can.”
Dottie stands and holds out her hand to help Devyn up. “I’m going to give you a piece of my famous chocolate pie.” She tows Devyn to the kitchen, nabbing a photo album along the way. “Then I’m going to introduce you to my son.”
An hour later, we’re in the truck. Before I back out of the driveway, she says. “Dottie is amazing.”
“I know.”
“She’s nothing like my mother.”
“I know that, too.”
“My mother won’t forgive me like Dottie and Jim forgave you.”
“You don’t need her forgiveness.”
She leans back. “I don’t know if I want to thank you or be mad at you.”
“I vote for option number one. It has a much better chance of getting me sex.”
She looks at her stomach. “You want to have sex with me? Like this?”
I nod vehemently. “Are you kidding? You’ve never been more beautiful.”
“But I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“You haven’t said no either.” I throw the gearshift into park and take her hands. “Devyn, I want you. Pregnant or not, you’re fucking perfect. I love you. Love doesn’t have an on/off switch. I’ll love you when you get big. Even if you decide you can’t do this, and I have to raise the baby alone, though I may not like you very much, you can be sure as shit I’ll still love you.”
“You will?”
“I’m twenty-three years old, Dev. I’ve never said those words to another woman. I’m pretty sure it’ll be another twenty-three before it happens again.”
For the first time in days, she smiles. “Okay then. I think I’ll go with option number one.”
My dick swells. I can’t wait to get her home. “Fuck the bookstore,” I say, backing onto the street.
“What did you need at the bookstore?”
“I wanted to get a book about… things.” I glance at her belly. “You know, in case we had any questions.”
“Someone once told me that it’s amazing what you can find on the internet.”
I laugh. “Touché.” I want to speed home, but at the same time, I feel the need to inch along and protect my precious cargo.
Chapter Thirty
Devyn
By the time we’re home, I’m drenched between my legs. He had his hand on my thigh the entire time, rubbing circles with his thumb, driving me insane. I’m wound like a spring and ready to explode.
There are guests at the lodge, so he takes me to his cabin. We don’t go here much, but I like it. It’s open and airy. You can see everything except the bathroom from the front door. A wall separates the bedroom but not a door. From the outside, it’s a log cabin. On the inside, a trendy urban loft apartment with exposed ductwork in the vaulted ceiling. Makes sense; he lived most of his life in New York City. When he moved here, he was either sleeping in the bunkhouse, one of the small apartments, or in a college dorm. He built the place from the ground up with his bare hands. Andie told me it took him three years of summers, weekends, and holidays.