Page 10 of SALT

"That is indeed the question," I say before looking down and noticing a fly had flown into my glass. "Damn. Come on. I need a new glass," I say as I reluctantly pull my feet out of the water. "This fly is obviously a sign that it's time to pay my dues."

"Hey," Parker says as I load my plate with food.

"Hey," I echo his greeting, attempting to keep things short in hopes that he doesn't want to pull any shit tonight. I swear it's like I can feel Everett's eyes on me, and he's not even in the room. I hate feeling guilty talking to Parker.

"Come sit with me?" he asks, nodding toward the Adirondack chairs circled around the firepit instead of the patio table.

"Sure." The moment we walk out the back door, I feel eyes on me, and not just Everett's. I'm sure Mackenzie is staring as well. We do look somewhat suspect going off to eat by ourselves instead of joining everyone else at the table. I want to ask what his deal is and why we can't just join everyone else, but the question would be pointless, so instead, I ask another burning question: "Where is Moira tonight?"

His brow furrows, and a slight scowl takes over his face at the mere mention of his stepmother's name. Another reason I couldn't just say no when Parker called in his ask. We have too much in common. Moira Michaelson, formerly Moira Callahan, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth too. The fact that Parker and his father, Kipp, are here speaks volumes about the type of man that Everett is. Kipp was one of Everett's closest friends in high school, and they're still friends even after his wife cheated on him, divorced him, and then went on to marry the man she had coveted since high school.

"I don't know. She hasn't been around much lately." I can hear the indignance in his tone. "I don't care to talk about her," he adds before taking a big bite from his burger.

I push the potato salad around my plate. I am hungry. I should eat. The carbs will help sober me up. I've had one too many drinks since we got here, and I need a clear head, even if it's the last thing I currently want. All the anxiety of the past week has been eating away at my sanity.

"Okay, so what do you want to talk about then?"

He shrugs. "Nothing. I just wanted you to sit with me." His eyes lock onto mine, and he says without words this is one of the moments where he's pulling his card. I don't say anything more as I lean back into my seat and take a bite of my food. Sitting I can do.

After finishing my food or what I could stomach considering the roller coaster of mixed emotions I was feeling, I excuse myself to the restroom. Splashing water on my face, I try to get a grip. I'm buzzed, not drunk; I ate enough to keep my head on when all I really want to do is let go. The problem is, letting go is the last thing I can do. If there's any chance of rekindling the spark I know is there between me and Everett, I can't get drunk and act a fool. Doing so would only hurt my chances of proving to him that I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm a grown-ass woman capable of having an adult relationship.

I turn the cold water on and splash my arms in an attempt to find my center and a semblance of clarity. It's easy to see what we want to see when we're crushing on someone. It's normal to overanalyze and obsess over every minute detail… "Completely normal," I finish the thought out loud as I grip the granite sink base and look at myself in the mirror. "Stop being a coward. Everett's back. You've prepared for this moment for months." I pull out my fire engine red lipstick and reapply it with a pop, giving myself a little needed pep in my step.

Exiting the bathroom, I'm just reaching the end of the hallway when I catch a glimpse of Everett heading toward the front door. Is he leaving? Not a day has gone by since he left town that I haven't plotted all the words I'd give him when he got home, and not only have I said nothing, but I've also basically made myself invisible. After he told me to move out, I stayed away, ensuring our paths didn't cross, too scared to watch the future I'd been dreaming up in my heart be ripped away. I've watched enough dreams die to last a lifetime.

Picking up my pace, I hurry toward the front door so I don't miss him before he gets into his car and takes off, leaving me behind again. He's rounding the car when I step out onto the wraparound porch. "You're just going to leave?" I call out after him.

Those molten black eyes flick up to mine, and my heart skips a beat. It's not an uncommon occurrence when it comes to him. It's a reoccurring episode that can't be helped when I know I have his attention.

"It looks like you have a ride," he says dismissively as he drops my gaze and reaches for the door handle.

"I came here with you," I rush out, my voice slightly cracking with the jitters coursing through my veins. I'm not this girl. I'm a confident woman. I mean, for god's sake, I strut around the house in thong bikinis. I know exactly what I'm doing every time I do it. I want him to look. I want him to feel something for me. But teasing a man and growing a pair of balls to go after him currently feel like two very different things.

Pulling open the door, he rests his hand on top of the car. "That didn't mean we would be leaving together," he says.

I take a step down the front stairs. "So you were just going to leave without asking me if I was ready to go?"

His polo is fitted so expertly across his well-defined chest that I can see the measured breath he pulls into his lungs from here before saying, "I ate my dinner. I spoke with my son. You didn't look like you were ready to go, and I am." He pauses, rasps his knuckles on the roof, and adds, "You're a smart girl. I'm sure you didn't come out here for a reminder of the rules, so if–"

I cut him off as I make my way down the remaining steps. "Do you want me to leave with Parker?"

His face is impassive, giving nothing away. His eyes stay locked on mine as I slowly approach the car. "It's probably better that you do."

My heart rate kicks up a notch as a mix of trepidation and anger slowly rises. Was that a passive flirt?

"What does that even mean? God, you're infuriating," I say, my tone holding back zero restraint. The time to be bold and take risks is now. Change doesn't happen staying inside our comfort zones.

He raises a brow and crosses his arms. "What is it that you want me to say, Cameron?"

I roll my eyes and shake my head before meeting his gaze again. "I want you to say no, Cameron. I don't want you to leave with Parker. I want you to get your pretty little ass in the car and leave with me the way I thought you would."

His face stays impassive, and for a moment, I believe I've read everything wrong and all I am is an inconvenience. The burden left to his care once my father died, but just as my insecurity is about to snuff out all of my false bravado, there's a tick in his jaw. It's so small, had I blinked, I would have missed it; part of me still questions if it was ever really there at all. But then he says, "Get in the car, Cameron."

Without another word, he gets in, and I follow as my heart threatens to explode. His lips said, "Get in the car," but my mind heard, "I don't want you leaving with Parker."

I took a risk. I earned my reward. There's no way I'm not getting in that car.

Of course, I get in, and once again, we're drenched in silence just as we were on the drive over to Connor's. It doesn't help that, sitting in his car, I'm surrounded by the deep, warm, woodsy notes of his scent. He's always smelled so earthy to me, like the salt from the sea and the musk of the woods. It's comforting, and right now, it's too allaying. I can't stay in the confines of my comfort.

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