Page 37 of SALT

I shake his hand but offer zero pleasantries. "Are you ready to go?" I ask pointedly.

Her eyebrows rise, but before her lips can move, he answers for her. "Oh, I don't mind giving her a ride home." He shoots her a wink. "Cam makes a good backpack."

Cam? I don't like how seemingly close she is to this guy that he's calling her by her nickname. And backpack? Over my dead body. "Her name is Cameron, and there's no fucking way she's ever getting on the back of your bike again."

"It's fine, Everett. Mackenzie called earlier, and she told me who my late-night visitor was last week, so there's no longer a security threat?—"

"Nash, was it? Do you mind giving me a second?"

"Sure," he stands. "I'll just be by concessions."

My eyes flick back to her just in time to catch her crossing her arms and raising an unimpressed brow.

"You're not riding home with him."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't like it."

"That sounds like a personal problem, Everett. I can get a ride from whomever I want."

Her eyes narrow on mine, ensuring I caught the double meaning in her words before she attempts to step around me. I catch her elbow. "The only ride you'll be taking is from me. You'll get in my car and only my car, not because I'm demanding but because we both know you want to." I see her obstinance rear its stubborn head, and I add, "And because I want you to."

Her face reluctantly softens, but she concedes. "Fine, I'll meet you outside."

The ride home is silent, similar to our ride to work this morning. I'm not complaining. I'll take her silence over her being on the back of some idiot's bike any day. We have things we should discuss, but talking about them makes them real. Talking leads to more questions and discussions about what comes next, which are all things I don't have answers to. I know what I should do and what I should say, but right now, cutting off one of my hands feels like a far better punishment than the risk that comes with giving her words, ones that would undoubtedly inflict pain.

"Who is that?"

My eyes scan the road ahead, and I see Lauren sitting on the front porch. She's early, and I'm fucked. I had the entire drive home to give Cameron a heads-up, but I didn't. To my credit, it's not because I was hiding it. I forgot. Being locked in a car with Cameron doesn't help either. She already consumes all of my thoughts—seat her an arm's length away from me, and forget about it. It's annoying as much as it is pathetic.

I've barely parked the car before she's reaching for the handle, and I'm certain I know exactly what she's assuming. "Cameron..." My words die before they begin as she pushes open the door and starts up the stone path toward the house.

"Oh, I didn't realize we'd have company," Lauren says, rising from the porch steps with a bag of food from Vivianno's and a bottle of wine.

"Yes," I nervously clear my throat and pray Cameron doesn't make this into something it's not. "Cameron lives with me."

"Oh, well, I'll make a mental note to order more next time."

"Next time…" Cameron questions slowly as I jog up the steps to key in the alarm code and open the door.

"Lauren, the kitchen is straight back through the foyer if you want to get the food ready."

"Sure, I'll just make myself at home."

When I turn back, Cameron's on the top step, her fist clenched and her gaze at my feet. "I want my keys back, Everett."

"Cam–"

"Now, Everett. Keys!"

"It's not what you think," I try as I step toward her.

"Don't. You lied to me to get me in your car, and then you brought me home to what…? To witness your date? To put me in my place? To further emphasize that I'm just a girl with a crush?" She runs her hand through her hair and bites her lip as she shakes her head. "Give me my keys."

"They're in the garage under the upside-down stack of terracotta flowerpots."

She doesn't even spare me a glance before storming off toward the garage, and I let her go. I let her go and tell myself it's because I need answers, but deep down, I know that's a copout. I let her go because we don't match. There is no future where she and I are endgame. When I stood here and told Lauren that Cameron lived with me, she didn't see a girlfriend, a wife, or a partner. She saw a college kid living with a guardian. That's what Damon made me with his death, and that's all I'll ever be. So, I let her go.

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