Page 50 of SALT

"Oh, you're home. Did you and Stormy have fun last night?" Lauren says as she walks down the catwalk that stretches from the upstairs bedrooms to the open staircase. Why the fuck is she upstairs? "Stormy mentioned something about camping," she continues as she walks down the stairs. My ears hear her words, but my eyes are zeroed in on her appearance. Her hair is slightly mussed, and she's definitely wearing second-day mascara; one eye is darker than the other. Did she fucking sleep here? I've yet to find any words by the time she reaches the bottom and says, "I think you left this at my house last night." I look down and find my phone in her hand. My damn phone, the one I haven't been able to stop thinking about since I realized I left it behind. She swooped on it, no doubt realizing it was mine, and used it as an excuse to come here and see Everett rather than waiting until I brought Stormy home today.

"Thanks," I force out, even though it's the last sentiment I feel.

"Lauren," Everett's voice echoes from the hallway upstairs before he comes into view, and his eyes land on me.

"I'll see you later. Stormy mentioned picking Cameron up for today's game, and I think I might tag along. I should probably attend an away game to see the team in action and check out the competition." His eyes don't stray from mine as Lauren approaches the front door, but mine do. Fuck that. Right now, there are no words that would make any of this acceptable. I'm heading up the steps two at a time, eager to escape this hell I stepped into, when Lauren says, "It was good seeing you, Cameron. Bye, Everett."

The door closes at the exact moment Everett throws his arm out, catching me around the waist. "Don't touch me." I push venom into my voice as I try to shove down the hurt.

"Cameron, stop. It's not what it looks like."

I swat his arm away and step back. "Oh, so you didn't have a sleepover with another woman on the same night I said I wouldn't be home?"

"Cameron, it's not what you're thinking."

"And that wasn't a no," I say as I storm past him to my room and slam the door before he can follow me. There is no scenario that excuses letting another woman stay the night. He made a rule that I couldn't have guys over, and after everything we've shared recently, it shouldn't have to be said that the same rules apply to him. I guarantee if the roles were reversed, he'd be just as pissed. Locking the door, I slide down the back and squeeze my eyes closed.

I hear the front door open and close, and my heart cracks a little more. I don't know how much more it can take before all that's left is pieces. He didn't even try to convince me otherwise. He didn't fight for me. For us. "This is why you're building your own place, Cam."

My phone chimes, and I reluctantly pick it up. I don't want to talk to anyone, but I do because I had plans with Stormy anyway, and everyone knows the best way to get over something is to drown their problems in a bottle; any bottle will do.

Stormy: Did you find your phone?

Stormy: I just thought of something. If you didn't, I don't have a way of getting a hold of you. I guess I'll just show up at noon if I don't hear back.

I groan… and accidentally swipe out of responding, but when I do, another message catches my eye.

Everett (11:32 p.m.): Cameron, please answer me.

"What the hell?" I immediately click into the strand. "When did you send me this?"

Everett (5 p.m.): Where are you going tonight?

Everett (8:40 p.m.): Will you consider coming home tonight?

Everett (10:02 p.m.): Lauren is here.

He tried. He texted. He wanted me to come home, and he didn't hide her from me, but right now, his effort isn't taking center stage because something else is. How are the messages I received from him last night marked as read when I didn't have my phone? It's always locked.

"What are you up to, Lauren Rhodes?"

"Ican't believe he hasn't put Parker in yet," I say as I try to lean over the stadium railing to get a better view of the dugout. "When did you last talk to him?"

"I saw him this morning, actually; he was fine. Maybe a little perturbed, but fine."

I do a double take at Stormy before resuming my study. Parker must really be interested if he stopped by her place before heading to the stadium to get on the bus.

"If he stopped by your place before the game, I bet he was late getting to the bus. That has to be why he didn't start."

"No, he didn't stay long at all. He didn't even come inside. I don't think he was late. That was his reasoning for not coming inside."

We are tied in the eighth inning, and bases are currently loaded. McKenna is pitching, and while he's doing a good job, the other team is making him throw. I can tell from here that the weight of the game, coupled with his pitch count, is getting the better of him right now. If I can see that, why hasn't Everett? He knows the game. That's when I catch movement from the dugout in my peripheral, and I see Parker storm down to the other side. Damn it, we should have sat on the other side. If we had sat behind the other team's dugout, I would have a better view of ours. It's easy to guess what's happening, even with an obstructed view. Parker is giving Everett an earful. The next thing I know, Everett leaves the dugout and walks out to the mound.

"He's pulling, McKenna."

"You think?" Stormy says, joining me at the rail.

"The coach can only walk out to the mound once during an inning to talk to the pitcher, and I doubt with bases loaded in the eighth it's a pep talk when his other starting pitcher hasn't entered the game." As McKenna walks off the mound, Everett squeezes his shoulder, and Parker jogs out. Fans clap as McKenna returns to the bench, and I call out, "Let's go, Park. You got this." He doesn't acknowledge me. I didn't expect him to; he's in beast mode now. But Everett does. His dark eyes zero in on mine as he walks off the field, like he's known exactly where I've been standing the entire game. Before he turns away, his eyes drop briefly to my jersey, and his jaw clenches. I'm wearing Parker's jersey. I kept the original uniforms that didn't fit. When I offered his to Stormy, she passed again, so I put it on. I didn't wear it as a dig at Everett. I wore it to support Parker. Either way, he's pissed, but the way I see it, if anyone has a right to be offended right now, it's me.

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