Page 43 of Knotted Laces

He tsks and the sound is so out of Martha’s playbook that I still for a moment. But then he’s cupping my jaw, tilting my head up. “Open your eyes, cupcake.”

I don’t like orders.

Or endearments.

But I can’t resist him, not like this, not right now, not…well, maybe notever.

And I can’t process how dangerous that thought is with his arms around me, his warm spicy scent in my nose, his hard body pressed to mine. Cam is…well, he’s not that lanky college kid anymore.

He’s a man and?—

For better or worse, my body is very aware of that.

“Athena, baby”—he strokes a finger down my cheek—”open your eyes.”

And…I do.

I find myself staring into Cam’s hazel gaze, lost in the swirling greens and golds and grays. They’re beautiful, like an abstract painting I can stare at for hours and hours.

But it’s the emotions swirling within his eyes that steal my breath, that stop me from pulling away.

“You’ve said it before,” he tells me gently. “Made it clear you think that your life is less valuable than someone else’s because of your upbringing or the woman you’ve become.”

I inhale.

Because I know I do that.

I know that some part of mefeelsthat.

“You’re a good person.”

And though my initial instinct is to demure, to make some joke in order to ignore the feelings that sends spinning through me, I bite it back. I’m not worthless. I do good work. I try my best. I’ve made something of my life when no one—no one—thought that would happen, but?—

“Tommy was better,” I say softly. “And his family deserved to have him in their lives.”

Cam’s eyes flash with anger. “Andwedon’t deserve to have you?”

My heart leaps, surging up into the back of my throat. “Cam.”

“We love you, Ats. You’re part of our family—even if sometimes you try not to be.”

God. Why does that slice through me?

Because it’s true?

I exhale. “I don’t try to do it, you know?”

His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “I know.”

“And I’m closer to you guys than I’ve ever been to anyone in my life.”

His eyes soften. “I know that too.” He leans in, rests his forehead against mine for a moment. “Same as I know that Lex would have been tearing himself apart if you’d put yourself between him and the bullet. Same as I know that Tommy would have felt the same too. You guys do the job you do because you care about people, and”—he lifts his head, thumb brushing along my bottom lip again—“if Tommy was an asshole, you wouldn’t be tearing yourself apart like this.”

I still for a second.

Then start laughing.

“What the fuck, Cam?” I say, shoving at his chest.

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