Page 2 of One Night Redemption

Taking my card out of my wallet, I put it on the table. Seconds later, he whisks it away and returns within minutes. I sign the check, adding a very generous tip. After all, not everybody needs to have a shitty evening.

As I leave the restaurant, I glance around the parking lot. No sign of him. Not in his personal vehicle or his cruiser. The lot is full of people coming and going from the best restaurant this side of Cincinnati. Birthdays, anniversaries, proposals—it’s a romantic spot. But not for me. For me it’s the site where all my hopes and dreams went up in flames. Because even though I’ve been in love with Cam since we were kids, it was nothing to him but another notch on his already whittled bedpost.

“Fuck him,” I whisper. “He can go straight to hell. And if he even so much as glances sideways at me—assuming he doesn’t manage to avoid me indefinitely now—I’ll tell him so.”

Realizing that I’m talking to myself in the parking lot, I go to my car and scoot behind the wheel. I still have to sit here for at least an hour until I can legally drive. Something else I have to be pissed at him for.

I look at my phone again. Nothing. Not a peep. No missed calls or texts suddenly appear. There’s nothing on social media. It’s just silent. And the more I wait, the madder I feel. But I’m not going to do anything. I’m not going to be some clingy, psycho ex. I’m going to hang on to the few shreds of dignity I still possess and pretend like that son of a bitch doesn’t even exist.

It’s after ten when I get home. I stopped at Target in the next town over for a little retail therapy. And ice cream. There’s no better cure for heartache than a pint of Graeter’s.

Dropping my bags in the kitchen, I put away all the stuff that has to be refrigerated and leave the rest of it. Except for the ice cream. That and the spoon I snatched from the silverware drawer are going with me while I ditch these uncomfortable ass clothes and the Spanx they demanded.

When I’m finally in my comfy PJ’s and settled on the couch, I turn on the TV to rewatch Bridgerton. Then I pull up Facebook and the ice cream loses all appeal. In fact, I want to throw up.

Lucy Carpenter, the ding dong who works in dispatch, just checked in on social media. She’s at The Horseshoe Bar and she’s with Cam.

I don’t scream or cry. It was three dates. Well, two dates and a third one that went all kinds of sideways. It doesn’t matter that those two successful dates— that ended with us making out like horny teenagers in the front seat of a car—followed a decades-long crush on a man that not only isn’t mine, but seems determined to never be anybody’s.

“You dodged a bullet,” I tell myself. “Now don’t be a dipshit and mope over him. He’s not worth it.”

But he is. Even after standing me up. Even after going out with that idiot who can’t even tell time on an analog clock. He’s worth it. And I think maybe he’s the only one who doesn’t know it.

Chapter

Two

Cam

"Someone told me they saw you over at Bellehaven Memorial last night." Troy says as he runs next to me.

I shake my head. This is his way of being nosy, without gossiping. There's no telling how many people saw me in the parking lot with Cassie. It's basically the main thoroughfare of town, and everybody seems to walk through there at one point or another. "I was over there." I give him a little bit of what he's asking.

"Oh yeah?"

We make the turn on the track, following the lanes as we run. "Yeah." I sigh. "I went over there to talk to Cassie."

"How'd that go?" He asks, amusement strong in his voice. "Last I heard, you stood her up and she told you she didn't want to ever talk to you again."

"She did say that." I affirm. "But I'm gonna be honest with you. While I was waiting on the paramedics to get there to assist you, I was thinking about the things I'd done in my life that I wanted to change. What if I were the person lying there?” I stop, taking a breathe, because let’s face it, running and talking isn’t easy. “I didn't have many regrets at all, but the biggest one was that I let her get away. If I were ever in your situation, I don't want to be thinking of all the things I would be regretting. Maybe that wasn't what was happening with you, but I know myself ..." I let the thought trail off.

He's quiet for a few minutes before speaking, "No. I was … I was wondering about all the shit I should've, would've, could've done differently. I told myself right then that if there were regrets I had, I would change them as soon as I could.” His gaze runs along the track as he sighs deeply. “That moment in time is embedded into my brain. Every single thought I had while on the floor is branded, and I'm never going to forget it. That's why Lizzie and I are out and about. I'm never going to hide what we are to one another anymore." He stops for a second, catching his breath. "I make sure everyone knows how much I care about them now. Every time I leave JT, he knows I love him. I call Lizzie every day, and tell her I love her too. When we leave one another, I tell you to be safe, and I hope you know that's my way of letting you know that I love you, too. You're the fuckin' best friend I've ever had."

Troy isn't the type of man to say a lot—ever. So I know that the speech he's just made cost him a huge chunk of emotion. "I love you too, man. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who wondered about what the rest of my life would look like if I thought I was going to die."

"No, so much shit ran through my head, wondering how someone was going to tell Lizzie. What they would say to JT and Emma. How I would be remembered. In a way, I'm thankful." He runs a hand along the back of his neck. "Who knows how scared I really would've been if I had dwelled on what could've happened. You being there? It made me less scared, and I will remember what you did for me forever."

We needed to have this conversation, because we haven't had it yet. We've been doing what we normally do. Joke, laugh, say smartass comments, and avoid getting too deep into our emotions. "What else would I have done?"

"You could've let me die, but you didn't. I thank you for it, but I don't wanna talk about it again." He laughs.

"I'll say you're welcome, and then tell you I don't either."

We start running again. Troy looks back over at me. "So, what were you doing talking to Cassie? Did she tell you to go fuck off?"

I scoff. "She would never tell me to go fuck off, even if she wanted to. She's too nice for that."

"I don't know, I've seen her in high-pressure situations, and she's told other people to fuck off in the ER. I think she'd most definitely tell you. So basically, her not saying it is in your favor."

---