Page 52 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

We’re both proud people, probably far too much, and though my weakness might be physical, hers is far deeper, far more painful, and I’ve just rubbed salt into the wound.

ChapterEight

DALTON

Camille’s soft voice floats over me, rising and falling as she does different characters in the story she’s reading to Davey, like she’s performing a one-woman play.

I lean against the wall just outside his open bedroom door, listening to every word. Letting the love laden in every syllable sink deep into my skin and warm me when I’ve felt nothing but cold since the moment I saw that look on her face at the table.

God knows I sure as hell shouldn’t be here.

After the tension I created settled over the table and all of us during what should have been a happy meal, I should have made Pops leave the moment we could duck out without another awkward moment with Camille.

But almost as if he could tell that we needed to talk, Pops just settled into the chair in front of the fireplace with a book after dinner, leaving me to play with blocks on the floor with Davey while Camille cleaned the kitchen—insisting Inothelp her in a way that made it very clear she wanted me nowhere near her.

Can’t say I blame her for that.

So, I definitely shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this sweet, loving moment she’s sharing with her son, and I shouldn’t be waiting to ambush her the moment she walks out.

Shouldn’t…

That doesn’t make me leave, though. Not when the thought of her being so hurt by my words won’t let me get any sleep tonight, anyway. Knowing I caused her that kind of pain is worse than the one still attacking my back and legs despite trying to rest my weight on the wall.

“Good night, Bub.” Her soft steps move toward the door, the old floors creaking the closer she comes to me, and she eases the wooden panel closed and turns, jerking backward when she sees me. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you.”

She scowls and moves to walk past me in the narrow hallway, but I push off the wall and block her escape.

“Please, Camille…”

Her gaze plastered squarely at my chest in front of her, she tightens her hands into fists at her sides. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I do.”

Those Caribbean-blue eyes I have found myself lost in far too many times to count dart up to meet mine. The anger and pain in them make me shift away from her slightly, but I refuse to back down before I’ve said my piece. “Maybe I don’t want to hear it, Dalton.”

“That’s completely fair.”

And if I had any self-preservation instinct, I might walk away.

But I can’t, knowing I put that look on her face with one insensitive comment.

“I am sorry I said that…”

Camille presses her lips together tightly, crossing her arms over her chest, above her growing belly, like she needs to protect herself from me. As if I couldeverhurt her.

She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t try to move past me again, either.

She just waits.

Apparently, for the explanation I came here to give, but that somehow seems so hard to say in the moment.

“I was deflecting.”

Her brows rise. “You think?”

I release a sigh and shake my head, running a hand through my hair that just flops right back over my forehead. “What Pops said is true. I don’t like admitting any sort of weakness. I get that from him—clearly. And I don’t like anyone pointing it out. That’s even worse.”

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