Page 68 of SALT

I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. Her eyes drop to our intertwined fingers. "I want you, Cameron. Probably more than any man has ever wanted a woman. You once asked me what if I was your soulmate. The answer I didn't give you then was souls don't meet by accident."

The way her crystal blue eyes pierce mine is enough to bring kingdoms to their knees. "So where does that leave us, Ev? If we're not an accident, what are we?"

"I don't know..." Fuck, I can't recall a time in my life I've been rendered speechless, but that is exactly what I am now when I need my words more than ever. "If we were storybook, we would have met on the same page, but we both know that's not our story. Of what little I do know, it's this: I wish I could have done everything with you. If I had one prayer, it's that if I can't have you in this life, I will get you in the next. I don't want to lose you, and I don't mean the old you. I mean the one I have now, the one that's mine."

The way her hand lightly squeezes mine and her chest visibly deflates with a stuttered breath tells me my words touched her, but the way her smile doesn't meet her eyes also makes me feel like they weren't enough—they weren't the right ones.

Chapter 24

Cameron

"Hey, wait up," Stormy calls as I walk out to my car to leave for the day.

I haven't had a chance to discuss pulling back on my hours with her. Reece has filled in for us here and there as needed. She had been predominately working in the concessions area, but I talked to her manager on Monday about having her move over to the team shop since I will be in less often during games. The change in hours was sprung on Stormy out of nowhere today, and I have no doubt she wants to talk about it.

"What's going on? How come you didn't tell me you were cutting your hours?"

Technically, I had planned on telling her two days ago, but she called off. Between training Reece on opening and closing procedures, visiting the site of my new lake house, and starting my own business, I've been a little preoccupied.

"We both know I'm not working this job for the money, and Reece has been filling in for us as needed over the past month. She's just going to be picking up more hours than she had." I shrug, knowing my answer wasn't really an answer but uncaring because my mind is elsewhere.

She crosses her arms. "Okay, thanks for the bullshit non-friend response. Now, what is the real reason?"

I pull open the door to my Audi and throw my bag into the back seat. "I'm starting my own business, construction on my house starts next week, and…" I trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Since my dinner with Everett a few nights ago, I've felt out of step, and I know why. I put everything out there, but he didn't take it. We're still us but only behind closed doors, and while I'd wait forever for him, I've found myself wanting to wait alone. Being with him has almost hurt as much as being away from him. The thought of losing him and what we have is unbearable. I know what I need and what will help. I need to visit my dad. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"Let me come with you."

"You don't even know where I'm going."

She shoves her hands in her pockets. "I think I could take a pretty good guess. Parker told me what this Saturday is. He said you like to be alone, and maybe that's true, or maybe you've just never had someone to hold your hand who understands the grief of losing a parent."

It's not because I like to be alone during this time that I choose solitude. I choose it so as not to burden anyone else with my grief. I chose it because I deserve it.

"If you want to tag along, that's fine, but I'm not returning tonight. I'm staying at the property."

"That's fine with me. You know I love it out there, and I always keep an extra outfit in my bag. You never know when you might need to get away."

Her comment is somewhat strange, but I leave it. I always have ten outfits in my trunk because my style changes with my mood, and I like to be prepared for surprise outings.

Apparently, she likes to be ready for surprise runaways. That's the Thelma and Louise shit I'm talking about.

I nod toward the door. "Get in. I'm ready to get out of here."

"You ready for some company?" Stormy asks as she joins me beside my father's grave, where night has started to set in. When we got here, the sun was still up.

I've let go of the loss, but the love that remains is the hardest part. There will always be last words we never got to say, a lost ear to bend, and the loss of the only person who could ever really love you unconditionally for eternity. But I hold onto the hope that when I'm here, he's here with me, sitting next to me, listening to me pour out my heart. Every dream, confession, and apology, I lay them at his feet the same way I'd do if he were still here with me. I told my dad everything. His breathing may have ended, but his love never will. There's a scripture that keeps me coming back here., "For dust you are, and to dust you shall return." If we indeed return to the earth as ash, I know his are here. I feel him here, the same way I feel him when I'm at Salt Lake.

Stormy gently nudges my shoulder with hers. "I'm not good with sentimental, and I'm not sure how these conversations should go, so I'm just going to talk. My mother died when I was fifteen. I haven't visited her grave once, but sitting here watching you makes me think maybe I'm missing out on something. You must have really loved your dad."

"I did. He was more than just my dad. He was my best friend."

"And your mom? You haven't moved from this spot at the foot of his grave."

"Life gives us parents. Our hearts make us friends. My mother was only ever a parent, and even that feels like a stretch because parents are supposed to nurture and support their children. I'm not even sure you could say my mother did those things. However, I don't fault her for that. She had us, and I think she did her best. When I think about my mother, I see sacrifice. A woman who got pregnant before she was ready, a woman who forfeited her youth for a baby. I don't know. Every time I think about my mother, I feel like I'm making excuses for why she wasn't the mom I wanted her to be, and then I feel shitty and selfish. I mean, some children don't have any parents. Who am I to complain that mine wasn't good enough?"

"Hmm… I get that, but maybe she wasn't the woman you thought she should be because she wasn't the person you thought she was."

"I'm not sure I follow," I say as I turn to her in question.

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