10 Years Later Part 19

I was dealing with some heavy s.h.i.t at work, so I knew my heart couldn't take any more hurt from anyone, let alone Cammie. She might have gotten me to leave her house that night, but I wasn't walking away forever. She'd have to fight me a h.e.l.l of a lot harder than that to get me to leave her alone for good.

s.h.i.t. I sound like a stalker. Stalkers aren't s.e.xy.

I typed my response: Dalton: This better be good news if you want to see me in person.

My phone vibrated in my hand, and I a.s.sumed it was her continuing our texting game. When it didn't stop, I realized that she was calling instead.

"Hi," I said hesitantly as I answered the call, suddenly feeling a little out of breath.

"Where are you? If you're not coming over, then I'm coming to you. I need to see you."

"s.h.i.t." My stomach dropped. I wanted to see her, needed to see her.

"What?" she said in a low voice.

"I'm not in town."

"Where the h.e.l.l are you?"

"In New York." Annoyed and angry at being too f.u.c.king far away from the girl I'd been in love with for most of my adult life, I wanted to kick something.

"d.a.m.n it. Why?" she yelled, and I took her reaction as a good sign. A real good sign.

"They pulled my informant's body out of the Hudson River last night. It's been a real s.h.i.t day," I said, feeling horribly guilty about Eddie's death.

No matter what anyone said, I couldn't shake the feeling that his dying was on me. He was my informant, and he paid for that indiscretion with his life. I knew that Eddie was by no means a stand-up guy. He was a sc.u.mbag who only turned informant to protect his own a.s.s. He knew what he risked by being a snitch, but I still never wanted him to die for it. I'd promised him on multiple occasions that I'd always do my best to keep him safe, but couldn't help feeling as if I'd failed him in some way, even though what had happened was beyond my control.

"Oh, Dalton, I'm so sorry." Cammie's voice pulled me back into the present as I sighed into the phone. "When are you coming home?"

"When do you want me to come home?" I decided to turn her questions around on her, hoping it would get her to admit she wanted me back and put me in a better mood where I felt less like a pile of s.h.i.t.

She breathed out a laugh into the line. "I want you here right now. I have so much I want to tell you, Dalton, but I don't want to do it over the phone."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Any idea when that will be?"

"Probably not before a couple of days. Can you wait that long?" I asked, hoping she'd give me a f.u.c.king hint as to where her head was at, even though I sensed we were going to be okay.

"I guess. I mean, I wanted to bake some cookies for you, but I don't want them to go bad," she said with a hint of a smile in her voice.

My mouth watered at the thought. "I love your cookies."

"I've heard. I'll wait for you to get here. Dalton, I'm really sorry for everything. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I want you to at least know that much."

I couldn't stop the ridiculous grin that covered my face. "Don't be sorry. I completely understand, and I'm sorry for not driving that day and leaving my phone in my car. I really hate being away from you." All I wanted to do was pull this girl into my arms and never let go.

"That makes two of us."

When her voice turned into a soft whisper, I could picture her lips in my mind as she spoke. I wanted those lips all over me.

"Don't talk like that, babe. You're turning me on." I stared down at the bulge growing in my pants.

She laughed. "Well, that sucks for one of us. I'm not entirely sure which one. Hey, speaking of d.i.c.ks." She huffed out another laugh, and I wondered where she was going with this. "I can't believe you went and saw my mom! What the h.e.l.l did you say to her anyway?"

"She didn't tell you?" I asked, my tone incredulous.

"Obviously not if I'm asking you," she huffed out.

"Well, then. I'm not telling you either."

"I hate you both. But I bet I can figure out a way to get it out of you," she teased, and my d.i.c.k sprang to life again.

"d.a.m.n it, Cammie."

She was right. I'd tell that girl anything she wanted to know for the rest of my life, as long as she was by my side. And she wouldn't even have to work that hard, but I planned on leaving that part out if she asked.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Kind of. Hurry home. I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"'Bye, Dalton."

"'Bye, babe."

As thankful as I was for that phone call, it only made me want to hop on a plane and hustle my a.s.s straight to her house to work our relationship out. I walked into my boss's office to see what else I needed to do, and to see how quickly I could get back to LA.

I needed to see my girl.

And eat some cookies.

Love Is Worth the Risk.

Cammie.

I couldn't believe that Dalton was back on the East Coast and our conversation would have to wait. Served me right for waiting so long to contact him in the first place.

Instead of calling him the second I left my mom's house, I forced myself not to call. I wanted to take the time to really think about things, like I had promised myself I would.

It had been a full week since I'd kicked him out, telling him I couldn't be with him. It had been h.e.l.lish, and each time I reached for the phone to call him, I knew it wouldn't be fair to him if I wasn't completely convinced that I could truly do this with him. I needed to be all-in, because I knew in my heart that he was. Dalton had been all-in the moment he arrived at the reunion and basically spilled his guts to me.

The thing was, I still had some of my own grieving to do. I spent four nights crying, letting emotions out that I'd kept locked inside while I tried to be strong for my mom and everyone else after my dad died, even though I knew now that no one expected me to be. It wasn't that I never cried when I lost my dad, but I sucked a lot of it in and held it there.

It was so cathartic to finally let go of the pain that had become such an integral part of me. I released a lot of it, and suddenly felt like something was missing as my body lightened. I expected to feel free, but instead I felt vulnerable without it, almost naked.

My mom's words had truly made an impact on me when it came to Dalton and my heart. I needed to hear her perspective and her advice. Kristy had been completely right about that one, much to her satisfaction that she constantly rubbed in my face.

Work had been a helpful distraction over the past week. The guys rarely asked me about Dalton, and were smart enough to smile and pretend to buy my responses. Everyone believed that Dalton and I were completely happy and doing well. Not that I ever planned to admit otherwise to them.

The last thing I wanted was to get that personal with Tom and John, and have that conversation lead into what happened to my dad. I knew what would happen-their eyes would fill with pity, and they'd never see me in the same way again.

No longer would I be Cammie, the awesome a.s.sistant producer. Instead I'd be Cammie-the-survivor, or Cammie whose-dad-died-when-she-was-sixteen, or Cammie isn't-it-sad-she-has-no-dad. People tended to define others by the things that happened to them. And I didn't want to be defined that way at my job when my loss had already defined so much of my high school and early college years.

I was finally ready to move into a different phase. It would never be okay that my dad was gone and I would always mourn his loss, but I no longer wanted to a.s.sociate myself with that loss, to be identified with it. I wanted to be me, plain and simple, just Cammie.

I only had one more night to get through before Dalton would be back in town. He'd texted this morning to let me know that things were wrapping up and he'd be back tomorrow, although he wasn't sure what time.

Placing the first batch of cookies into the oven, I almost dropped the pan when someone knocked twice before barging in.

"Jesus, Dalton, you scared the h.e.l.l out of me!" I yelled as he rounded the corner of the kitchen and scooped me into his arms. Wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, I met his lips with as much fervor as he was giving mine.

He pulled back slightly, his hands firmly cupping my a.s.s. "I caught an early flight." Then he pressed his lips to mine again quickly before pulling back.

"I can see that." I smiled as I played with the back of his neck and his hair. "You almost made me drop your cookies."

His mouth fell open as he let me go and I nearly dropped to the floor. He caught me and placed my feet gently on the ground. "You almost dropped my cookies? That's why people break up, Cammie."

I laughed. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too. And not to be a d.i.c.k or anything, but I don't want to waste any more time. Can we please talk?"

"Yes." I moved out of the kitchen, unsure of where to sit. The kitchen table would feel more formal, but the couch might be too relaxed. "Where do you want to sit? The table or the couch?"

"Depends on if you're dumping me or not," he said in a weak attempt to tease, but I sensed a bit of uncertainty there. "If you're going to try to tell me you can't do this, I'll take the table. But if you're going to tell me the right thing, the only answer I'll accept, then we should sit on the couch."

Shaking my head, I reached for his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen table as a joke. When he realized my intention, Dalton stopped in his tracks, and my hand jerked in his as he refused to move forward. "I'm only kidding," I said before practically running toward the couch.

He scrunched up his face like a little kid. "Stop toying with my heart, woman."

"I'm sorry." I sat down on the couch and patted the s.p.a.ce next to me. "Now that we're finally here, I don't even know where to begin or what to say."

Taking in a deep breath, he gazed at me with concern. "Take your time." He reached for one of my hands and held it in his, his thumb tracing small circles.

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, I met his eyes. "When you didn't show up at the restaurant that night, I fell apart. I've never been so scared in my life. I felt completely helpless and out of control, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world."

Dalton closed his eyes for a second before reopening them. He opened his mouth to speak, but I pressed one finger to his lips to quiet him.

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad," I told him. "I just want you to know why I reacted the way I did. The panic attack made me feel like I couldn't control my mind in times of stress or uncertainty, and I immediately a.s.sociated you with that. I convinced myself that being with you meant constant chaos, or constant unknowns. I know it wasn't necessarily logical, but I couldn't talk myself out of feeling that way."

He squeezed my hand back. "Babe, I know exactly what I did to you. I understand it completely, and I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

I tilted my head at him and mouthed thank you. Dalton had been nothing but understanding and patient since he burst back into my life.

"I was overwhelmed with everything I was feeling. When you showed up that night, very much alive, I felt like my brain short-circuited with a billion different emotions going all at once."

The buzzer sounded in the kitchen, and I jumped to my feet. "Let me switch the cookies. Hold on."

I hurried into the kitchen and pulled out the first batch, then scooped out the dough and placed it on another baking tray. After shoving it into the oven and setting the timer for ten minutes, I headed back to my seat next to Dalton.

When his lower lip jutted out in a pout, I knew what he wanted without even asking. "They're too hot. You have to wait about five minutes."

"Fine." He crossed his arms, and I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, where was I?"

"Short-circuiting," he said, and I sucked in an audible breath.

"Right. I pushed you away because I thought I had to. I was so scared. I mean, I'm still scared. I'm worried and I probably always will be, but I want to work through that with you. At least, I want to try," I said, feeling like I was babbling and not making any sense at all.

Dalton nodded. "That's all I want too. I want to be here for you always. And to be honest, I didn't even think about how my job would affect you negatively. I was so caught up in how it was you who made me want to do this in the first place, you know? That had always been my focus, not any of the scary parts, which is so stupid of me. Of course you'd be scared."

I reached for his hand and laced my fingers between his. "It's not stupid. I didn't even realize how much it affected me until you didn't show up, and I immediately a.s.sumed you were dead or hurt. So I can't promise that I'll always be okay, and I know it won't be easy. I clearly have a lot of fears to work through that I never even knew I had. But I don't want to be without you. I've done it for the last ten years, and I don't want to have to do it anymore."

"I don't ever want to live without you, Cammie. And I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to always stay safe and out of harm's way. My worst fear is hurting you again."

Sighing, I said, "I know you can't promise me that you'll always be safe. You can't promise that. And don't, because I'll be so mad at you if you break it. But I just need to know that you'll try."

Dalton pulled his hand from mine and grasped my shoulders, turning me to face him directly. "I will always do my best to come home to you. I know that nothing in life is a guarantee. You can't promise me that you won't get in your car later and not get into a car accident."

He stopped talking, frowned, and then started again. "G.o.d, that's a horrible f.u.c.king example, and I'm really sorry. Please don't get into a car accident. But you know what I mean. There are some things we can't control. I can't lie to you and tell you my job isn't dangerous at times. It is. But that's part of why I love it so much. I know that I'm making a difference, making the world a better place. It gives me purpose, but so do you. And I never want to do anything that hurts you, Cammie. Ever."

I looked into his green eyes, amazed at how much this man loved me. "You really are incredible. I mean, I always thought so, but you're even more wonderful than you were. You're so much more," I said as I thought back to the boy I used to love. He had grown into an awe-inspiring man.

"I love you, Cammie. I never stopped. Not for a single day since we've been apart. Sure, it's ebbed and flowed, I'm not going to lie about that, but it's never disappeared completely. Not once. And I always knew it." He brought my hand up to his face and kissed my knuckles, sending the warmth of his affection shooting through me, and I smiled.

"You've always been a part of me, Dalton. When you didn't show up that night, I realized that I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I had just found you again . . . just gotten you back. And I knew in that moment that I had never really stopped loving you."

"Say it," he demanded as he lifted my hand, turning it palm up. He dropped a kiss into my hand, then pressed kisses up my arm.

"Say what?"

"Tell me you still love me." When I bit my bottom lip, bringing it between my teeth, he growled my name.

"I still love you," I said, unable to fight the smile that played on my lips.

"Then dance with me." He pulled me from the couch and onto my feet as he plucked his cell phone from his pocket and fiddled with it. Music played through the tiny speaker as he placed it on top of the coffee table.

Walking back to me, he extended his hand. "May I?"

"May you what?" I teased as a familiar tune surrounded us.

"Have this dance. I blew prom, and we didn't even get to dance at the reunion. I want my dance now," he said firmly before grabbing me by the waist and pulling me close.