Page 35 of SALT

Chapter 15

Everett

Ididn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. I'm not even sure why I laid in bed at all. The entire night, I stared at the ceiling, condemning myself for coveting my dead best friend's daughter. He entrusted her to me, and all I've been able to do is dream unthinkable thoughts, and last night, I snapped. Once again, she deliberately disobeyed me. She left the house without her phone, a move that I know was intentional. I'm not fucking dense. Lauren showed up, and she went MIA. The conclusions were easy to draw. Cameron assumed Lauren was the reason I didn't get home on time last night. She didn't know that I walked in the door five minutes after she walked out or that she was the cause of my lateness, nor did she believe I'd sit in her room all that time and let myself feel everything I shouldn't want.

When I couldn't stand my insomnia anymore, I came downstairs to the gym where I've been for the last two hours, pushing myself until I felt like I might actually die because death feels like a fucking fate I deserve. At least in death, I could say I didn't touch her, at least not in a way that counts. I never had a daughter, but it's not hard to imagine myself in Damon's shoes. Were he alive, he'd probably already have me killed for the sunscreen. Fuck! That was the wrong image I needed in my head right now. I slam my hand on the stop button, get off the treadmill, and head for the sauna. Maybe I'll die sweating out my demons.

Once inside the sauna, I lay down a towel and drop my shorts before lying on the bench. For the first time in days, I feel my exertion weigh heavy on my eyelids, and I close them. But no sooner than the flashes of light fade to a jet-black backdrop, visions of her fingers sinking deep into her wet pussy seize hold of my mind, and I'm once again reminded of my hardened length. I've refused to stroke it. I've fucked women to get her off my mind, but I've never allowed myself to wrap my hand around my cock to thoughts of her. I feel my heavy tip hit my stomach as it painfully twitches, begging for release. It took every ounce of strength I had left in me not to immediately drop my pants and rut into my hand the second I got back to my room last night, but I didn't. Instead I headed straight for the shower and stood under the cold water until I couldn't take it anymore.

In my mind, I know no one sin holds more weight than another, but I've tried convincing myself otherwise for the past four years. The truth is, I started seeing her differently the night she got a glimpse of the man behind the veil. No one has ever seen me, and I mean truly fucking seen me. But the night of her seventeenth birthday, she found me standing in the shadows of the greenhouse, looking on as my then-wife shared a kiss with her high school lover. Cameron knew without words it wasn't the first time I'd witnessed Moira's infidelity. She stood by my side, watching on, and said, "Duty and honor are hallowed words, they're worth fighting for, but do they not die when they protect a lie?"

At seventeen, she saw straight to my soul. The crux of what was the bane of my existence: name, honor, family. My entire life, I have put those virtues before my wants. That night, I watched my wife kiss another man, but it wasn't until Cameron came along that I felt anyone would ever see me. She didn't see the act of infidelity as the main event. She saw me and my heart, and then I saw her.

Fuck it. I grab my throbbing cock and squeeze hard. If I'm already sentenced to burn in hell for the sins I've already committed, what's one more? A deep guttural moan escapes my chest on the first stroke as a vision of her withdrawing her fingers to fit three inside and accommodate my length makes its way to center stage. I already know what her soft porcelain skin feels like. I'm sure her pussy feels like silk. I squeeze harder, remembering how her juices coated her fingers. My cock strained hard against the zipper of my jeans as I looked on, wishing it were my balls covered in her essence. Damn it.

I hate that holding my cock to visions of shoving it deep inside of her already feels like the best sex I've had in years, and I'm not even fucking her. My balls draw close to my body on the next stroke as I think about how close I was to unbuttoning my jeans and giving her exactly what she wanted when her eyes rolled back as she screamed my name. That nickname has always felt like a curse when I've heard it roll off her lips. Moira always called me Everett, and in high school, friends called me Callahan. But Cameron gave me that nickname years ago at a family picnic. It came so naturally, like we were close, like I fucking meant something, and maybe I do. I hate the thought of meaning anything to her but pushing her away hurts just as much. Her leaving to stay at Connor's all but killed me. I'm a selfish prick for bringing her back here, knowing I'm already on the verge of losing control when it comes to her. Fuck.

The vision of her curled up in the closet, the flash of relief, followed by annoyance, was enough to make me feral. I wanted to save her as much as I wanted to smack her ass for thinking of leaving me in the first place… and then those words. She thought she had hung up the phone, but she didn't. I heard what she said when she thought no one was listening, and it felt like parts of my soul were physically abandoning my body, leaving to find a vessel more suited to deal with a dreamer's heart. But I wanted to dream. I still want to dream even though I know it will only make all of this that much harder to walk away from. Even if it does cause me pain, I've never felt more alive, more real, more like myself than I do sitting in the torture her light inflicts on me. Her eyes slowly blinking open and finding mine, pleading with me for more, have hot ropes of cum shooting onto my stomach. I grunt out my release, pulling long and slow, not wanting to let go but needing to get past these thoughts that plague me so I can get my head right.

As my labored breathing finally slows, I catch my breath and open my eyes to my new reality: obsession. My obsession is dangerous. My obsession is her.

"Last night changed things, Everett. It doesn't matter if you don't want it to. It did, and you can't take it back," Cameron says from the passenger seat as I pull into the stadium's parking lot. I should have known the silence on the drive here was a small showing of goodwill I didn't deserve. I knew I'd have to answer for my misdeeds. As I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, I thought of all the things I would tell her, knowing she might go down this path regardless of what I've said. But I can't bring my mouth to say them quick enough before she adds, "Even if you could take it back… I wouldn't want you to."

I shut off the car and press my head back into the soft leather of my seat. "Cameron, it's not going to––"

A loud knocking on my window steals my words. "Do you always get in this late? I've been here for twenty minutes," Garrett chides, standing outside my window.

I hate being interrupted, but I'm grateful for the distraction right now. Whatever words I had for Cameron weren't coming easy because she's right. Whether I like it or not, last night did change things. Now, I have to figure out how to erase it so it doesn't happen again. It can't happen again. I don't bother finishing my sentence or even addressing her before I exit the car.

"What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you too, brother," he quips just as Cameron exits her side. "Hey Cam," he greets right before she closes her door a little harder than necessary. She gives him no words as I hear her heels clicking off toward the entrance. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

He crosses his arms and widens his stance. "That girl has never once ignored me. She's sunshine on a cloudy day. What happened?"

I look toward the building and catch her back just before she enters the stadium. "Nothing, that's the problem."

"Don't lie to me. I'm your brother. I know when you're giving me half-truths. I've seen the way you look at her, Everett. It's not nothing."

"I didn't touch her," I answer a little harsher than intended.

He clicks his tongue. "That's what this is…" He trails off, his posture softening as he props an elbow on the roof of my car.

"What are you droning on about? You know what, never mind. Why are you here?"

"I stayed at Connor's last night with Colton. The new security company you hired stayed a little later than expected, and a quiet house was a nice change of pace. I love my kids, but lately, I've felt more like a referee than a father. I came to talk to Lauren, but I caught her on the way in and?—"

"What business do you have with Lauren?" I cut him off before he can act like he didn't just drop a piece of important information. I've asked him to help me with a lead I've been tracking down since Damon's death, and if Lauren has anything to do with that lead, I want every last detail.

"You need to figure your shit out, Everett. You're so wound up you can't think straight. We briefly talked about Lauren and Stormy last night after I showed you the small clue the cameras picked up from the break-in." It's nothing that points to them. He's operating on a hunch, maybe one Colton put in his head. Since they both stayed at Connor's I'm sure they discussed multiple angles and because it's Cole, I'm not naïve enough to believe the topic of Cameron and I didn't come up. It's why Garrett's giving his two cents now. Pushing off the car, he points toward the stadium. "That girl in there is what you want, then own it. This…" he gestures toward me, "this will make everyone see something else. You look guilty. You're not acting like the calm, collected, level-headed co-founder of the MacBeth Foundation, part owner of Callahan & Associates, and the son of a senator. If you want to tarnish your reputation, then keep doing whatever this is."

I angrily run my hand through my beard. Sleep has evaded me for countless nights. I fall asleep for short minutes at a time, if at all, and the things I've done to forget, the things I've tried to get her out of my system, don't work. I can't focus. I know he's right. She's a poison for which there is no cure.

"You don't understand. No one fucking understands."

"I'm a lawyer, Everett. I see the sides you do. She is your best friend's daughter. You've been part of her life for a long time. You're practically twice her age. You have children older than her, and she came to live with you while she was still in high school…" His eyes hold mine on that last point, and I know he's following my train of thought. "I also know another detail. The one that twists you up the most. I know why Damon was late to the gala the night of the accident, and I know you blame yourself for it."

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