10 Years Later Part 8

"So, when did you move back from New York?"

"Almost a year ago. My partner, Tucker, and I both moved here. The case we're working on had a change of location, and I volunteered to relocate."

I remembered that my dad had worked the streets, always driving around in his cop car looking for the bad guys, but he never talked about working a case. "So you're not a normal cop then?"

He half smiled. "Undercover."

"You're an undercover cop?" I wasn't sure what it was about the word undercover, but it made him seem ten times hotter than just being a regular cop.

"Thanks to you," he said, and my breath stilled.

"Thanks to me?" I all but choked out.

He shifted again, as if uncomfortable. "Cammie, you made me want to become a cop."

"I m-made you?" I stuttered on those shocking words. "How? Why?" I had no idea at all how I could have made Dalton want to become a police officer. My mind struggled as I tried to determine what he meant.

"It was the day of your dad's funeral," he said, his voice so sad that my throat closed up, making it hard for me to breathe. Thinking back on that day was difficult, because it was such a blur . . .

a a a I'd stood in the front row of the funeral home's chapel, my mom barely able to function as she sat next to me, her eyes glazed over and her cheeks red and chapped from days of crying. She'd blown her nose as tears spilled down her face, just as they had since we found out my dad had been killed. She hadn't taken the news well, and I'd found her in the back of her closet, buried under a pile of Dad's clothes on more than one occasion.

As torn apart as I was, it was awful to watch my mom crumple in the wake of it all. It made me feel like I needed to be strong for both of us, but I couldn't do it; I couldn't even fake it. My dad had been my hero, and now he was gone. He'd never walk me down the aisle, or see me graduate from college, or anything that I had always a.s.sumed he'd be around for.

When you're a kid, you never think about losing a parent. You need them too much and a.s.sume they'll live forever, that they'll always be there for you. My mom's withdrawal from life-from me-devastated me, making me feel as if I was losing them both at once.

The sounds of soft conversation and muted grief filled the room, and when I turned around once to look behind me, I noticed that the room was completely packed with people, but I didn't really see anyone. There were a lot of men in police uniforms, but that was the only detail I really noticed. Aside from some family members and Kristy, I had no idea who was here, although we were informed later that hundreds of people had stood outside and filled the parking lot because there wasn't enough room for everyone inside.

It all seemed like a bad dream I desperately wanted to wake up from, but couldn't. Kristy wrapped her arm around me, her own tears flowing. My dad was her second dad, and I knew it was a painful loss for her as well. Everything around me seemed to move in slow motion, my mind unable to process any of it. I was completely numb and out of it, going through the motions robotically because it was required of me, but not really absorbing any of it. I just wanted my dad back, and no one could ever make that happen for me. It killed me to think that I'd never be the same girl ever again.

I suddenly wondered-can you still be Daddy's little girl if you don't have a dad anymore?

a a a I shook my head to rid myself of the memory and rejoined Dalton in the present. "You were there? You came to my dad's funeral?" My eyes continued to fill and I tried my best to hold back the tears, but failed as two fell.

Dalton nodded before reaching out and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "I don't mean to make you sad. Please don't cry."

"I can't help it. But go on," I said. "I want to hear this."

"I was there. The whole school was there. I'm not surprised you don't remember, you seemed pretty out of it. But then you gave that speech. I don't know how you pulled it together to speak, but I was so glad you did."

I barely remembered that either. I mean, I knew I talked at my dad's funeral, but I couldn't remember anything I said. It was like being in a fog, a day thick with emotion and so much sadness that the air felt almost too heavy to breathe in.

"What did I say? If you remember, I mean."

"Oh, I remember." Dalton sucked in a breath and his eyes closed for only a moment before reopening. "You said that every little girl was supposed to idolize their father, and that you were no exception. But that you didn't only love him because he was the best dad ever, you loved him because he was a good man. You called him a hero in every sense of the word. You said that your dad was a great police officer because he wanted to protect people, he believed in right versus wrong, and he was a man of good character."

More tears spilled as I nodded. "He was the best man I ever knew."

"I know."

"I can't believe you were there." I didn't remember Dalton being there, and I would have remembered that because even in my zombie-like state . . . well, it was Dalton. "And I can't believe you remember my speech."

"It sort of changed my life, so-"

He looked away, and when he said nothing else for a moment, my curiosity forced me to prod him.

"But why?" I asked, wanting to make sense of it all. "Why did what I said about my dad mean so much to you?"

Dalton's face tightened and he blinked rapidly, staring at his hands in his lap. "Because I grew up in a s.h.i.tty house, Cammie. When you were up there saying those things, I couldn't relate at all. I didn't feel an ounce of what you felt for my own dad, but I wanted to." His voice cracked on that last part, and he lifted his gaze to mine. "I mean, I hoped that someday I'd have my own family, and I wanted my kids to feel about me the way you felt about your dad. I wanted to be someone's hero. I wanted someone to love me the way you loved him."

I couldn't fight the tears at all by this point and I finally stopped trying. I couldn't believe that I had affected Dalton's life choices to that extent. It was more than a little overwhelming.

Dalton reached out and touched my cheek. "Seeing you at the funeral d.a.m.n near killed me that day. It hurt me to see you in so much pain. You had no idea, but I wanted to protect you from that moment on. I did a really s.h.i.tty job of it, obviously, because I couldn't even protect myself back then."

He wanted to protect me?

"Aside from that," he said, "your speech inspired me. You inspired me. I never had anyone to look up to, but I wanted to be the kind of man that others did. You gave me that hope."

"But you always were," I insisted.

He frowned and shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone looked up to you in high school. I don't think you saw yourself how we all saw you. You've always had this energy about you that was so charming, so captivating. People wanted to be around you, and they trusted you, Dalton. If you said something, people believed it." I frowned at him, a little shocked that he didn't know this already. To me, it was so obvious.

He shrugged, as if unsure. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

He slanted a glance at me. "Did you want to be around me?"

"Are you kidding me? I'd been in love with you since English cla.s.s our freshman year." When he leaned away from me as if I'd just struck him with something, I asked timidly, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. I just had no idea how you felt about me."

Now it was my turn to feel sucker-punched. "What?" I choked out. "How is that even possible?"

"You always acted so nonchalant when it came to us. I kissed you every chance I got, but-"

Amazed that he'd thought that, I blurted, "I always figured you never really liked me. I a.s.sumed you didn't want to be a couple or anything serious like that, but I liked you so much that I didn't care. I was taking whatever you'd give me because you were the only thing that made me feel. I went numb after my dad died. It wasn't until you that I could feel anything at all."

"Do you remember the day in the darkroom?" he asked.

"Which time?" I said with a laugh.

"The day I asked you if you wanted to define what we were? Do you remember that? When you asked me what we were doing?"

I nodded as the memory came flooding back. "I do."

"You said that you didn't know and that we didn't have to," he huffed out, clearly exasperated.

"Oh my G.o.d, I lied! I was totally lying. Of course I wanted to define us, but I was too scared to tell you that," I admitted.

"I didn't know you were lying!" he all but shouted.

"Of course I lied. I'm a girl," I said with a shrug. "I was just trying to play it cool and be what I thought you wanted me to be."

"Well, I'm a guy. And guys believe what you tell them. We're not good with hints, or beating around the bush, or any of that s.h.i.t. We ask a question, you give an answer, the end."

"s.h.i.t," I breathed out on a slight laugh.

Dalton sighed and shifted on the bed, turning so he was completely facing me. "And while we're being honest, I was terrified to push you too hard. I mean, I wanted us to be together officially, but I thought that if I pushed you for that, you'd bolt. And I didn't want you to run away." He reached out his hand and looped his index finger around mine.

His touch was warm and sent tingles throughout my body. Curling my finger around his, I said, "And I thought that wasn't what you wanted at all, so I pretended that I didn't want it either. But I did. Why didn't we ever talk about all this back then?"

"Well, my excuse is that I grew up in such a dysfunctional house, so I figured not talking about things was normal. I never wanted to lose you, Cammie, but in the end, I did anyway."

"We're a mess," I admitted as Dalton's phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.

Glancing down, he muttered a curse. "I have to take this. Sorry," he said before I waved him off. "What's up?" he barked into the phone, then listened. "Right now? He is? You're sure? Yeah, I know. Got it. Thanks, Eddie."

He ended the call and moved from the bed. "I'm so sorry, Cammie, I have to go. That case we're working on. I can't say anything else, but, well, I have to go."

"It's okay." I let out a frustrated breath, pulled between being disappointed that our night was ending already and respecting his profession. "Go."

He reached out his hand for me and tugged me from the bed before pulling me against his chest. "You're so little without your shoes on." He looked down at me and I grimaced.

"You're so . . . Ah, c.r.a.p, I've got nothing." I laughed as a comeback escaped me.

"Here." He moved me away and shoved his phone in my hands. "Put your number in my phone. I'm not letting you get away this time." He stared down at me, giving me a mock stern look. "I hope I'm being clear."

I typed my information in his cell, smiling like an idiot the whole time. "You want my phone number, you've got it."

"I want more than your phone number, Cammie. But I guess that will have to wait until I see you again." He smiled, tucking his phone back into his pants. "I'll call you as soon as I can. I want to see you," he said as he backed away toward the door.

Torn, I stood there speechless for a moment. I wanted so badly to chase after him and pull him to me, but my feet refused to move, and all I could do was mumble, "Okay."

Admiring the man he had become, I watched as he made his way to the door. He reached for the handle, turned it and started to step out, then pivoted and took two swift strides back toward me. Before I could even think a single thought, his lips were pressed against mine, his tongue begging for entry.

I opened my mouth and allowed him in. Dalton had grown more skilled in the last ten years, his kisses no longer frantic or rushed or sloppy. This was a man who took his time doing things. Our mouths moved in sync, our tongues caressing each other's, the heat between us growing. His hand splayed across my back and I leaned against it, reveling in his strong touch. His lips were so soft, a stark contrast to the way his p.r.i.c.kly stubble felt as his mouth moved against mine.

I wanted to pull him back on top of the bed and never let this moment end, but he moved us apart slowly, breaking our kiss. Leaning his forehead against mine, he said softly, "I couldn't leave without doing that. h.e.l.l, I'd been waiting to do it all night. Call you soon."

Dumbfounded, I lifted a hand to my lips and said nothing as he walked out and pulled the door shut. As my heart filled with joy, I stood there and replayed the kiss in my mind until it was burned there, overriding every other kiss that had come before it.

Silently Swooning.

Cammie.

Reaching for my cell phone, I sent Kristy a quick text to tell her I was in the room and wasn't coming back downstairs. Dalton had left, and to be honest, I'd done enough socializing. I had just gotten comfortable, changed into a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top for bed, when my phone beeped with a response from Kristy.

Kristy: Are you still with Dalton?

Cammie: Not anymore. He just left.

Kristy: Then get back down here!

Cammie: Nah. I've had enough fun for one night.

Kristy: Party p.o.o.per. I'll be up soon.

I told her to take her time as I swept my long hair into a ponytail and started washing the makeup off my face. My cell phone pinged again, alerting me to another text message, and I rolled my eyes, a.s.suming it was Kristy again, h.e.l.l bent on hara.s.sing me until I came back down.

Dalton: This is my number. Make sure you use it. I plan on using yours a lot. That kiss . . . I'll be dreaming about that kiss until we can do it again. G.o.d, Cammie, I've really missed you.

Holding my cell in my hand, I stood there staring at his words, grinning like an idiot. I didn't even know what to say to that, although I wanted to tell him I missed him too, but I felt half-crazy, so I didn't respond at all. Pressing a couple of b.u.t.tons, I now had Dalton's number saved in my phone and, yes, I planned on using it, just not right this second.

I was two episodes into some reality show I'd never seen before when Kristy barreled into the room. "That was so much fun, Cammie. And I have to pee so effin' bad, but when I'm done I want to hear everything." She ran into the bathroom, and I heard the sound of the toilet seat clanging against the porcelain. "And I mean everything about what happened with you and Dalton. I'm dying!" she shouted extra loud so I could hear her over the fan whirring.

Clicking mute on the television, I bunched the white comforter up around my chest and waited for her to come back out. All of tonight's revelations needed to be shared with my best friend, and I loved that she wanted to hear them all because I was dying to tell her.

She ran out, threw her shoes in the corner, and jumped onto my bed with me. "Tell me everything! What happened? Where did you guys go?"

I grinned, feeling giddy as I filled her in on everything she'd missed.

"So he's a cop, huh?" she asked when I finished, biting on her bottom lip.

"Undercover," I said to clarify.

"G.o.d, that's hot. Why is that so hot?"

I shrugged, unable to come up with an answer. "Right? I thought the exact same thing when he told me."

Kristy leaned her head against my arm as we stared at the muted television. "Are you okay with that?"

"Okay with what?" I asked as I pressed my head against hers.

"Him being a cop. Doesn't bother you, does it?"

Ignoring the small stab of pain in my chest, I said, "I don't think so. I'm fine with it."

"That's good. I can't believe he became a cop because of you," she said softly.

I almost couldn't believe it myself. I knew Dalton was telling me the truth, but it still seemed completely surreal the way he had come to my dad's funeral and remembered what I'd said even now, all these years later.