More Than Forever Page 7

  ***

  He's changed out of his baseball uniform and into workout shorts and a loose tank. Apparently, he works at the dealership sometimes—washing cars and whatnot.

  I don't watch him just outside the office window. I don't note that boys like him shouldn't look like that at fifteen. I don't constantly zone out thinking about the way he kisses me. I don't stare at him at all. Nope. Not for a second.

  I'm not even watching him as a girl comes up and starts talking to him. He stops what he's doing, drops the hose, and walks up to her. I don't notice that he glances into the office quickly. He won't see me watching, because I'm not.

  She cocks her hip to the side and crosses her arms just under her breasts, pushing them higher. I recognize the girl—she goes to our school. A junior.

  She laughs at something he says and rubs his arm up and down. I'm on my feet, intensely not watching them. Then she steps closer, so close they're almost touching. I don't even realize I've left the building until the sun hits my skin—the heat of it matching the heat of my blood that's pulsating in my ears. Before I know it, my eyes are shut, the hose is in my hand, and I'm pulling the trigger.

  Her squeal causes me to snap my eyes open.

  Cam's back is to me. His shoulders are lifted and his body's rigid.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" she shrieks.

  Cam turns around with a glare already in place. When he sees that it's me, the glare fades. He crosses his arms to match hers. "I think you owe Gabby an apology."

  "Oh my God," Gabby cries, before turning on her heels and stomping away.

  I do the same.

  "Where do you think you're going?" Cam yells after me.

  "Calling Logan," I shout over my shoulder. I snicker to myself—proud that I was able to come up with a retort so quickly.

  It doesn't last long before a cold burst of water hits my back. I freeze. My hands form fists at my sides as I turn to face him. "You're a jerk!"

  "Yeah?" he says, dropping the hose. "I know someone that might disagree with you." He flips his cap backwards, and I know what it means. It's the sign. The thing he used to do right before he'd kiss me. I play it out in my head—him stepping toward me, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me to him. And then he'd kiss me.

  But that's not what happens.

  He turns his back to me and marches off. "Yo, Gabby!" he shouts.

  And I lose it.

  He was right. He makes me crazy.

  I run after him and jump onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

  He bends over himself, and I think he's going to try to shake me off, but somehow, he swings me around so we're face to face with my legs still around him.

  He smirks. "What are you doing?"

  Stupid smirk. "I'm going to wipe that stupid smirk off your face."

  He chuckles. "How?"

  "With my fist."

  "Do it with your mouth," he challenges.

  My body tenses, and I look around. The reason I didn't do this stuff at school still stands. Nothing's changed. Nothing but Gabby—who's now standing only feet away. "Did you call me?" she asks Cam.

  And a fire burns in the pit of my stomach. I know what the fire is now. It's jealousy. "Yeah." I glare at her. "He called you a whore."

  Cam chuckles. I don't know why, it's not funny.

  "Who the hell are you?" she clips.

  I roll my eyes and watch Cam's smirk widen. It pisses me off so much that I wipe it off... with my mouth. I kiss him, harder than I've ever kissed him before. Because it's not just a kiss, it's a message.

  When I pull back, he quirks an eyebrow in question. With my legs still around him and his arms holding me in place, I shrug. "I don't like sharing."

  "Good," he says before moving in for another kiss. My eyes shut, my lips anticipating the feel of his. But it gets cut short when a burst of cold water sprays us both.

  I scream.

  He grunts.

  Mark stands with the hose in his hand and shakes his head at us. "Cool it," he says, squirting us again. "Shit. You're both drenched. You're useless to me now. Get out of here."

  We run, hand in hand, to his bike. I jump on the pegs, soaking wet clothes and all. Leaning in as close as I can, I envelop him in my arms.

  He tilts his head to look up at me. "I'm sorry about what I said yesterday, but I don't like the thought of sharing you either. No more games. You're my girl now, Luce."

  And I swoon.

  Just a little.

  ***

  We end up at the river, sitting on the grass and looking out at the water. "So things are good at home—with your dad I mean, he's okay now?"

  "I think so. He hired a full-time, live-in nanny."

  "I know."

  "How do you know?"

  "Mom told me last night." He comes closer and throws a lazy arm around my shoulders. "She organized it. Helped him interview for the right one. She's been there every day watching over things."

  My eyes go wide. "What? Why would—"

  He shrugs, like what he's saying isn't a big deal. "Because she cares about me, and I care about you, so it's important to her."

  I press my cheek against his chest to hide my blush. "She lives in the garage apartment. Her name's Virginia."

  He scoffs. "Sounds like vagina."

  ***

  We're both laughing when he rides up my driveway. But it stops when we see Dad sitting on the porch playing cars with the kids.

  Cameron's shoulders tense beneath my hands, but he doesn't say anything. They stay that way until we come to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps. I hop off the pegs and brush down my clothes, nervous at the situation about to play out. Cameron stares down at the ground, the muscles in his jaw working back and forth. Then Lincoln shouts his name, causing him to look up.

  The grin on Cam's face is instant.

  Liam follows behind Linc, the same time the front door opens and Logan and Lucas walk out. Not Jackass Logan, my brother Logan.

  Lincoln barrels into Cam, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "Are you back now? Are you gonna start playing with us again?"

  "I can have the bases set up in two minutes," Lucas says, and even though he's only three years younger than us, I can see he's just as excited to see Cam as the rest of them.

  "Yeah yeah," Logan joins in.

  Dad clears his throat. "It's getting late," he drawls.

  "I'll see you guys at the game tomorrow," Cam says to Lincoln and Liam. To me he asks, "You'll be there, too, right?"

  I start to answer but Dad cuts in. "She won't be at the game."

  "Oh." Any signs of excitement leave him. "I guess I'll see you at school then."

  Dad's heavy feet thud against the porch steps as he makes his way down to us.

  I don't know if Cam realizes, but he steps in front of me, becoming a shield between my dad and I. My dad's eyes narrow, but the corner of his lips lift. Dad's a big guy, intimidating to most. Cameron just hasn't read him right.

  I hold his hand and squeeze once, so he understands that it's okay—that things are settled and that I'm not afraid of him. Not anymore.

  "Lucy," Dad says, his voice softening. "Tomorrow's the first Sunday of the month."

  My breath catches. "But..."

  Cam steps to the side now, allowing Dad and I to speak.

  "I know we've never done it—you and me." Dad rubs his hand across his beard. "And I know that it was a day for you and your mom. But she's not here anymore, Lucy, it's just me now. So I'd like to take you out tomorrow. Just the two of us. If you'll have me."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  -LUCY-

  "You look exhausted." I giggle, watching Dad rub his eyes.

  "I'm fine, sweetheart." He takes a sip of his coffee. "So this is what you and Mom did? Shop for two hours?"

  I nod. "That's just clothes. We haven't hit the bookstore yet."

  His eyes widen in shock, but he reins it in quickly. "And how long
does that normally take? A half hour?"

  My head throws back in laughter. "No, that's the best part of our day. Normally around four—"

  He chokes on his coffee.

  "But I can be quick. I have a list. Two—tops."

  He shakes his head, his grin getting wider. "It's your day, you take as long as you need."

  ***

  Dad falls asleep in a chair at the bookstore. He snores so loud that people start complaining. I make quick work of the books I need and chuckle while I shake him awake. "Kathy?" he mumbles. And it's no longer funny.

  "No, Dad, it's Lucy. I got what I need. We can go now."

  He looks at his watch. "We've only been here an hour."

  "It's okay." I smile sadly. "There's one more place I want to take you."

  ***

  I take him to the river—the one that runs behind Cameron's house. "You trust me, right?"

  He eyes me warily. "Yes."

  I take my shoes off and motion for him to do the same. He hesitates for a moment before agreeing. We walk into the water as far as I can go. I hold both his hands and get him to face me. "I used to hold it all in, like you do. I kept it inside for so long that I felt like I was going to burst. It was constant—this ache in my heart because I missed her so much."

  "I'm sorry—" he starts, but I interrupt him.

  "No, Dad. I'm not telling you because I want you to be sorry. I'm telling you because I know a way to fix it. To make it stop. To make it right. But you have to trust me."

  He sucks in a shaky breath, his shoulders lifting with the strength of it. "Okay," he sighs. "Show me."

  Eight times.

  Eight times he dips his head, and he screams.

  And he cries.

  I've never seen my dad cry.

  When he's done, he silently walks out of the water and sits on the grass, just like I did.

  I sit next to him and wait. Because I know what it's like to be so lost. And so found. All at the same time.

  "You've done this before?"

  "Yes."

  He turns to me. "That boy... Cameron? He helped you with this?"

  I nod slowly, unsure of his reaction.

  "Tell me about him?"

  "What?"

  "You mean a lot to him, it's not hard to see that. So tell me about him."

  "He's um, in my class. He's fifteen. He plays baseball. And he lives in those houses." I point to the general area of his house.

  "No, Luce," he says. "I want you to tell me about him. What kind of person he is. Who he is."

  And without knowing, my smile is back. "He makes me happy."

  Dad chuckles. "That's obvious, but tell me why? How?"

  I turn to him now, confused by his words.

  He rolls his eyes and folds his hands under his chin. Then, with a high-pitched tone to match that of a pre-teen girl, he mocks, "Oh but Daddy, he's just sooo dreamy."

  I laugh and punch him on the arm. He nudges my side in response. And that's when I feel a calmness take over—the kind of calmness that can't be obtained from hiding away, or living your life through the pages of a book.

  It's the kind of calmness that fights the storm.

  I let my mind wander to Cameron. My head racing with so many thoughts, I don't know what to say first.

  "So?" Dad encourages.

  "He's fierce."

  His brows rise. "Fierce?"

  "Yeah. The way he cares for me—the way he protects me. It's fierce. He's fierce." I take a moment to gather my words. "He's a kid, Dad. We both are. But he doesn't act like it, not with me, and not with the boys. The boys—it's like they're his brothers. And I know that even if I weren't in the picture, he would've still been there—showing up every day. He would have done it for them. Because his heart is huge, bigger than anyone I've ever met. And he makes me smile. He makes me laugh. After everything that's happened, I didn't think that I'd be able to get back there. Laughing, I mean. I thought it was impossible to be able to laugh again. But he did it; he made my impossible, possible. And he had absolutely no idea he was doing it."

  "He sounds like a good man."

  "He is, Dad. Really. You'd like him."

  He smiles at me. The same proud smile he's always had. Sometimes, like now, I think he saves that look just for me.

  "So when can I meet him?"

  -CAMERON-

  Luce: I have a field trip all day today, but I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you or 'studying'. Just thought you should know so you don't worry. Or whatever.

  I read over the text I got from her this morning. I don't know why I keep doing it. I've memorized it. It's seared into my brain. Because it's not just a text, it's a confirmation of what she is to me.

  When I look up, I see Logan watching me. He shakes his head. "I give it two weeks before she owns your balls."

  I chuckle and finish dressing for practice. "Quit being jealous." I pat him on the head as I walk past. "One day you'll meet a girl that's gonna knock you off that high horse of yours and you'll gladly hand her your balls."

  He scoffs. "Not me, asshole. Never." He shivers. "Ever." The look of disgust on his face makes me laugh.

  We all head out of the locker room and toward the field. Just as I'm about to pass the gates, I hear her call my name. I turn around to see her running to me. "Wait!" she yells, and it makes me laugh. Of course I'd wait. I'd wait forever for her. She stops only feet away from me and bends over, trying to catch her breath.

  "Where did you run from?"

  "The bus," she pants.

  "That's like six yards away."

  She flattens her palm on my stomach and attempts to push me, but she's too damn weak and it has absolutely no effect. "I'm sorry Mr. Jockface, I don't run laps for fun."

  I smile, watching, and waiting for her breathing to settle. When it does, she straightens to full height. She tries to contain her smile when she says, "I was hoping to catch you before practice."

  "Well, you got me."

  She chews her lip, her eyes scanning the area around us. All of my excitement from seeing her is instantly drained. Her words come back to me, the ones that tell me she's afraid of being seen with me. Afraid of what people think of her. I make a mental note to find out who the hell said what, and punch them. I've never really been the physical type, but apparently she makes me punchy.

  I step forward and hesitate, only for a moment, before bravely taking her hands.

  She gasps, her gaze slowly lifting to mine.

  My brows rise in question. I need her to know that she's mine now, and all the petty dramas of high school, the whispers and the rumors—they can go to hell. I'll make it right.

  She yanks her hands out of my hold. The feeling of rejection almost kills me. But then she rests one on my chest, the other moving my cap backwards. She settles her hand on the back of neck and pulls my face down to hers.

  And then she does it again—wipes the stupid smirk off my face with her mouth.

  I don't realize I've lifted her in the air until Logan shouts at us to break it up.

  I set her on the ground, my eyes never leaving hers.

  She laughs quietly before wrapping her arms around my waist. Her head tilts all the way back to look up at me. "So are you coming over after practice?"

  "Of course."

  "Good, my dad wants to meet you."

  My face falls.

  She laughs.

  "COME ON!" Logan yells.

  "See you soon," she says, walking backwards and away from me. Then I grab my hat to cover my junk and sit on a bench. "I need a minute," I shout to Logan.

  Stupid boner.

  ***

  My palms are already sweating when I knock on her door.

  She opens it with a smile already in place. It should calm me, but it doesn't.

  "Are you okay?"

  I nod.

  She eyes me warily before taking my hand and leading me to the kitchen. Her Dad's already there—sitting at the counter. He gazes up when I wal
k into the room.

  And then he grunts.

  I swear it—even if I'd walked up to the house and seen him cleaning a shotgun on the porch—that single grunt is a shit ton more intimidating.

  Lucy walks me to the other side of the counter and motions for me to sit.

  I do.

  He grunts again.

  I flinch.

  "Stop it, Daddy," she hisses from next to me.

  And then he chuckles, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

  I don't dare laugh. Or even smile. I'm too scared to do anything.

  She holds my hand under the counter. "He's joking," she says, but it makes no difference.

  He comes to a stand, his huge frame shadowing us. He opens his mouth, and for a split second I envision Godzilla eating all the people of Tokyo. This is bad. This is really, really bad.

  "Breathe, son," he says. And I do. I'd do anything he asks—shotgun or not. "So..." He leans his elbows on the counter and looks between Lucy and I. He let's out a sigh and scratches his beard. "I'm out of my element here. I don't really know what I should be saying." He shakes his head slowly, and then looks right at me. But it's not the same look. This one isn't made for intimidation.

  We stare at each other for so long that I wonder if he's ever going to speak. "She's my little girl, Cameron." His voice breaks. Lucy holds my hand tighter. "She's my little girl and I don't know what to say right now. Kathy—Lucy's mother, she would have been great at this. This whole meeting you... setting rules thing." He smiles, but it's sad. "I just..." his words die in the air. He looks at Lucy with a cloud of failure and disappointment on his face.

  I clear my throat. He focuses his gaze on me. I take a deep breath, and let it out in a whoosh. "I've been seeing Lucy almost every day since your wife passed, sir. I enjoy spending time with her and the boys. The boys have become like brothers to me. So I intend—no—I hope to still be able to do that. I have a ten o'clock curfew on weekdays, and a one a.m. curfew on weekends. But I can change that to whatever Lucy wants, or whatever you set for her. I'm not sure if you know that I help coach the twins at the little league games on the weekend. I'd like to be able to take Lucy out afterwards. I don't really know what we'd be doing; she's my first girlfriend so I guess I'd need to think of some stuff. But I can be sure to run things by you first, sir, if that's what you want. We're only fifteen. My mode of transportation is a bike, so I don't think we'd be doing much of anything. I turn sixteen in a few months and plan to get my license. When that happens, I'll come to you and we can set new ground rules. If that suits you, sir."