Page 53 of SALT

"Moira is cheating on my dad."

"What?" Everett questions, his face marred with confusion. "How is that my problem?"

"Because you couldn't satisfy her, she had to look elsewhere. Now she's my problem. My dad doesn't deserve that. You know what he went through losing my mom, and now he's with your slut ex-wife?—"

Everett cuts him off, grabbing him by his jersey. "Moira is many things, but a slut isn't one of them."

"If you're going to hit me, go ahead. I'd love a reason to wipe the holier-than-thou look off your face. It doesn't belong there."

The two of them are locked in a staring contest, a test of wills. I know Everett doesn't go around looking for fights, but Parker has been asking for one. The last thing either of them needs right now is to make more of a scene. Everett is currently the face of the Bulldogs as the head coach, and if the scout from Arizona is still here, this won't look good, so I step in.

"Everett, come on. Let it go. This isn't the place. You got your answer," I slide my hand up the front of Parker's shirt and attempt to look like I'm fixing the top button. "People are watching, and this isn't a good look. Let it go."

Everett slowly releases his shirt, and his hands move to his hips. "What proof do you have?"

"An address in Texas that belongs to a Chad Hailsop. She tells us she's going there to help her friend Courtney with the Uplift Women's Charity Gala, but she doesn't stay with her or at the Four Seasons she claims to have a standing reservation at. Every week, she's gone a minimum of three consecutive nights. Every time she's gone, she's with him."

Everett drops his head, and I see it. He knows something, or if he doesn't, at the minimum, he has a suspicion. They were married for over twenty years. How could he not? However, he wouldn't say anything even if he did.

"Have you mentioned your theory to your father?"

"No," he clips out.

"Don't." When Everett looks back up, his eyes flick between us before landing on mine. "Are you with him?"

"What?" I question.

"You're wearing his jersey, and when I walked over here, his mouth was on yours. So I'll ask again, are you with him?"

"No, that wasn't?—"

He tosses me his keys. "Go wait in the car."

I don't hesitate. I'm already pissed at Parker for pulling that stunt as it is. He promised he wouldn't use me, and he did. When I steal a glance at Stormy, she shoves her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and walks with me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know Parker would do that. I hope you know it didn't mean anything. He was using me to get a rise out of Everett."

"I know," she answers, her tone indifferent. I'm not sure I'd be as unfazed as she seems to be had the roles been reversed.

"Are you sure you're not upset? I consider you a friend, and I try not to hurt the people I care about."

I hear her sigh as we walk. "I learned a long time ago to let go of things I can't change. Being unbothered doesn't mean I'm oblivious. It means I'm choosing not to engage."

Fucking solid advice if I ever did hear any. Now, mirroring that enlightenment will be the task.

Chapter 19

Everett

Ifelt like last night would never end. I knew I had made a mistake the second I let Cameron leave my office. I officially crossed a line, a big fucking line. I touched her. I put my mouth on hers, her soft curves molded into mine, and for those few fleeting seconds, my world ceased to exist, and all that was left was her. I felt like I had met my soul on her lips, and it rendered me speechless. I could have stayed with her like that forever, or at least it felt that way until my son called. I touched her, I kissed her, I met the other half of my damn soul, and then I let her go. But to my credit, and for as pompous as it may sound, I thought when I texted her she'd come home. The girl I kissed in my office waited for that kiss for years. It's what she wanted. She begged for it. I didn't understand why she didn't come home.

Of course I tracked her phone. I could see she was at Stormy's house all night, so when Lauren showed up on my doorstep around nine thirty p.m., I was conflicted as much as I was curious. Did Cameron know Lauren left to come over to my house? After thirty minutes and one drink, I was done guessing, so I texted Cameron to let her know. I thought out of all the texts, that one would have gotten a reply if not given her an immediate reason to come home. She doesn't have to say it. I know she doesn't like Lauren coming around, but I can't push her away. The more drinks we had, the more I learned. The last text I sent to Cameron was eleven thirty p.m., and it was at that time I checked her location again, but when I did, I got a surprise. She was home, or at least her phone was, which told me that Lauren had her phone. I wanted to demand a lot of things when I discovered that little nugget of information, but I didn't. Somehow, I managed to bite my tongue, and I'm glad I did.

The two-hour drive to the game gave me a lot of time to reflect on the conversations I had with not only with Lauren but my brother Garrett. As soon as I threw the car in park, I sent him a text.

Everett: I know what your theory is.

And as I walked into the stadium, I sent another.

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