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Authors: J. Sterling

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BOOK: 10 Years Later
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“But you always were,” I insisted.

He frowned and shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone looked up to you in high school. I don’t think you saw yourself how we all saw you. You’ve always had this energy about you that was so charming, so captivating. People wanted to be around you, and they trusted you, Dalton. If you said something, people believed it.” I frowned at him, a little shocked that he didn’t know this already. To me, it was so obvious.

He shrugged, as if unsure. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He slanted a glance at me. “Did you want to be around me?”

“Are you kidding me? I’d been in love with you since English class our freshman year.” When he leaned away from me as if I’d just struck him with something, I asked timidly, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just had no idea how you felt about me.”

Now it was my turn to feel sucker-punched. “What?” I choked out. “How is that even possible?”

“You always acted so nonchalant when it came to us. I kissed you every chance I got, but—”

Amazed that he’d thought that, I blurted, “I always figured you never
really
liked me. I assumed you didn’t want to be a couple or anything serious like that, but I liked you so much that I didn’t care. I was taking whatever you’d give me because you were the only thing that made me feel. I went numb after my dad died. It wasn’t until you that I could feel anything at all.”

“Do you remember the day in the darkroom?” he asked.

“Which time?” I said with a laugh.

“The day I asked you if you wanted to define what we were? Do you remember that? When you asked me what we were doing?”

I nodded as the memory came flooding back. “I do.”

“You said that you didn’t know and that we didn’t have to,” he huffed out, clearly exasperated.

“Oh my God, I lied! I was totally lying. Of course I wanted to define us, but I was too scared to tell you that,” I admitted.

“I didn’t know you were lying!” he all but shouted.

“Of course I lied. I’m a girl,” I said with a shrug. “I was just trying to play it cool and be what I thought you wanted me to be.”

“Well, I’m a guy. And guys believe what you tell them. We’re not good with hints, or beating around the bush, or any of that shit. We ask a question, you give an answer, the end.”

“Shit,” I breathed out on a slight laugh.

Dalton sighed and shifted on the bed, turning so he was completely facing me. “And while we’re being honest, I was terrified to push you too hard. I mean, I wanted us to be together officially, but I thought that if I pushed you for that, you’d bolt. And I didn’t want you to run away.” He reached out his hand and looped his index finger around mine.

His touch was warm and sent tingles throughout my body. Curling my finger around his, I said, “And I thought that wasn’t what you wanted at all, so I pretended that I didn’t want it either. But I did. Why didn’t we ever talk about all this back then?”

“Well, my excuse is that I grew up in such a dysfunctional house, so I figured not talking about things was normal. I never wanted to lose you, Cammie, but in the end, I did anyway.”

“We’re a mess,” I admitted as Dalton’s phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.

Glancing down, he muttered a curse. “I have to take this. Sorry,” he said before I waved him off. “What’s up?” he barked into the phone, then listened. “Right now? He is? You’re sure? Yeah, I know. Got it. Thanks, Eddie.”

He ended the call and moved from the bed. “I’m so sorry, Cammie, I have to go. That case we’re working on. I can’t say anything else, but, well, I have to go.”

“It’s okay.” I let out a frustrated breath, pulled between being disappointed that our night was ending already and respecting his profession. “Go.”

He reached out his hand for me and tugged me from the bed before pulling me against his chest. “You’re so little without your shoes on.” He looked down at me and I grimaced.

“You’re so . . . Ah, crap, I’ve got nothing.” I laughed as a comeback escaped me.

“Here.” He moved me away and shoved his phone in my hands. “Put your number in my phone. I’m not letting you get away this time.” He stared down at me, giving me a mock stern look. “I hope I’m being clear.”

I typed my information in his cell, smiling like an idiot the whole time. “You want my phone number, you’ve got it.”

“I want more than your phone number, Cammie. But I guess that will have to wait until I see you again.” He smiled, tucking his phone back into his pants. “I’ll call you as soon as I can. I want to see you,” he said as he backed away toward the door.

Torn, I stood there speechless for a moment. I wanted so badly to chase after him and pull him to me, but my feet refused to move, and all I could do was mumble, “Okay.”

Admiring the man he had become, I watched as he made his way to the door. He reached for the handle, turned it and started to step out, then pivoted and took two swift strides back toward me. Before I could even think a single thought, his lips were pressed against mine, his tongue begging for entry.

I opened my mouth and allowed him in. Dalton had grown more skilled in the last ten years, his kisses no longer frantic or rushed or sloppy. This was a man who took his time doing things. Our mouths moved in sync, our tongues caressing each other’s, the heat between us growing. His hand splayed across my back and I leaned against it, reveling in his strong touch. His lips were so soft, a stark contrast to the way his prickly stubble felt as his mouth moved against mine.

I wanted to pull him back on top of the bed and never let this moment end, but he moved us apart slowly, breaking our kiss. Leaning his forehead against mine, he said softly, “I couldn’t leave without doing that. Hell, I’d been waiting to do it all night. Call you soon.”

Dumbfounded, I lifted a hand to my lips and said nothing as he walked out and pulled the door shut. As my heart filled with joy, I stood there and replayed the kiss in my mind until it was burned there, overriding every other kiss that had come before it.

Silently Swooning

Cammie

Reaching for my cell phone, I sent Kristy a quick text to tell her I was in the room and wasn’t coming back downstairs. Dalton had left, and to be honest, I’d done enough socializing. I had just gotten comfortable, changed into a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top for bed, when my phone beeped with a response from Kristy.

 

Kristy
: Are you still with Dalton?

Cammie
: Not anymore. He just left.

Kristy
: Then get back down here!

Cammie
: Nah. I’ve had enough fun for one night.

Kristy
: Party pooper. I’ll be up soon.

 

I told her to take her time as I swept my long hair into a ponytail and started washing the makeup off my face. My cell phone pinged again, alerting me to another text message, and I rolled my eyes, assuming it was Kristy again, hell bent on harassing me until I came back down.

 

Dalton
: This is my number. Make sure you use it. I plan on using yours a lot. That kiss . . . I’ll be dreaming about that kiss until we can do it again. God, Cammie, I’ve really missed you.

 

Holding my cell in my hand, I stood there staring at his words, grinning like an idiot. I didn’t even know what to say to that, although I wanted to tell him I missed him too, but I felt half-crazy, so I didn’t respond at all. Pressing a couple of buttons, I now had Dalton’s number saved in my phone and, yes, I planned on using it, just not right this second.

I was two episodes into some reality show I’d never seen before when Kristy barreled into the room. “That was so much fun, Cammie. And I have to pee so effin’ bad, but when I’m done I want to hear everything.” She ran into the bathroom, and I heard the sound of the toilet seat clanging against the porcelain. “And I mean everything about what happened with you and Dalton. I’m dying!” she shouted extra loud so I could hear her over the fan whirring.

Clicking mute on the television, I bunched the white comforter up around my chest and waited for her to come back out. All of tonight’s revelations needed to be shared with my best friend, and I loved that she wanted to hear them all because I was dying to tell her.

She ran out, threw her shoes in the corner, and jumped onto my bed with me. “Tell me everything! What happened? Where did you guys go?”

I grinned, feeling giddy as I filled her in on everything she’d missed.

“So he’s a cop, huh?” she asked when I finished, biting on her bottom lip.

“Undercover,” I said to clarify.

“God, that’s hot. Why is that so hot?”

I shrugged, unable to come up with an answer. “Right? I thought the exact same thing when he told me.”

Kristy leaned her head against my arm as we stared at the muted television. “Are you okay with that?”

“Okay with what?” I asked as I pressed my head against hers.

“Him being a cop. Doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Ignoring the small stab of pain in my chest, I said, “I don’t think so. I’m fine with it.”

“That’s good. I can’t believe he became a cop because of you,” she said softly.

I almost couldn’t believe it myself. I knew Dalton was telling me the truth, but it still seemed completely surreal the way he had come to my dad’s funeral and remembered what I’d said even now, all these years later.

“I still can’t believe he was there,” I admitted before inhaling and exhaling a long, deep breath.

“I don’t remember much about that day, to be honest,” Kristy added, and for some reason that shocked me.

“You don’t?”

“Not really. I just remember feeling really sad and super bad for your mom because I’d never seen anyone cry like that before in my life. It was scary, you know?” Her head nudged against mine. “Of course you know. So yeah, I don’t remember much about that day except being there for you. I do remember you speaking, though, but I don’t remember what you said because I think I was bawling through the whole thing. I don’t know how you weren’t.”

“Me either.”

For as blurred as that day had become, I remembered a part of me being stoic and brave. I wasn’t sure where that strength came from or why exactly, but it was like I knew I needed to address the mourners or I’d eventually regret it one day. My mom never ended up speaking, and she still hated herself for it.

Those are the moments in time that you could never get back. We didn’t get do-overs. Life isn’t a rerun. If you screwed it up the first time, that chance was all you got. As heartbroken and devastated as I was, I wanted the world to know how much I loved and admired my dad.

“Cammie.” Kristy said my name dreamily, like she was lost in memories the same way I was. “What did you do when Dalton told you all that?”

“I cried,” I said simply.

“I would have cried too,” she said, then let out a little sigh. “Okay, enough sadness. Let’s talk about this kiss. I can’t believe he kissed you. Actually, yes I can. But, Cammie, Dalton freaking Thomas kissed you! And he’s single. Wait—he is single, right?”

I let out an exasperated huff. “Yes. He’s single.”

“Okay. So tell me about the kiss again,” she demanded, and I loved her for it.

“It was so hot. Like something right out of a movie. He was all but out the door when he turned around and hauled ass back to me. It was magical,” I said as I replayed the kiss again in my mind.

She moved to get off the bed. “I bet it was. So, when are you seeing him again? Did he say?” She discarded her dress onto the floor in a heap and pulled out her matching pajama bottoms and top before slipping into them.

“He said he’d call me soon. The ball’s in his court.” I nodded, convinced that Dalton should be the one to take charge and initiate things between us.

“Right where it should be.” She smiled as she hopped into her own bed and slipped under the covers, lying so she was facing me.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“That’s why we’re best friends.”

“I just like you because you’re pretty.” I yawned. “Tell me how the rest of your night was. Anything exciting happen?”

“Nah, but it was nice to talk to and see everyone in real life, you know? So many people are still trying to figure out what they want to do and what kind of career they want to have for the rest of their lives. I don’t envy them at all. I think that’s where you and I are lucky.” She nuzzled her face into her pillow as her hair splayed all around.

As her words sank in, it occurred to me that I had always known what I wanted to do. Ever since I was a little kid, I knew I wanted to work at a radio station, and that was an advantage most people didn’t have. The majority of us went to college to figure out what we wanted to be when we grew up, and even that didn’t always work. Life was a series of choices, and sometimes it took a long time and a lot of soul searching to find your place in it.

“We’re lucky in that regard,” I said. “It’s hard to find that, I think. Unless you really feel pulled toward something, it’s all a guessing game where you’re praying you won’t hate what you’re doing in a year.” She laughed into her pillow as I slipped under my covers and settled in. “I mean it. Could you imagine if you realized that you hated lawyer stuff? Or if I hated working in the radio industry? I don’t have a clue what else I would do with my life.”

“Me either,” Kristy said sleepily. “It’s a good thing I like arguing with people. And being right.”

• • •

When I arrived at the radio station Monday morning, the guys all looked at me like little kids on Christmas morning. “We want to hear all about the reunion!” they called out as I walked into the office for our daily pre-show meeting.

“All about what?” I teased. “What reunion?” I widened my eyes to Disney princess size as I sipped on my crappy gas station coffee.

“Come on! Was he there?” Tom asked, his eyes bright, even at this early hour.

Heat instantly crept up my face. “He was,” I admitted without thinking, then snapped my mouth shut.

“Yes!” John thrust his fist into the air like he’d won a gold medal. “We have got to talk about this today, Cammie!”

“What? Why?” I all but choked out.

“Because our listeners are dying for an update. It’s post-reunion recap time, girl,” Tom explained. “They need to know if you saw your mystery man or not. You give them hope for themselves.”

“But why do I have to be involved?” I whined. “Can’t you just update the greater Los Angeles area about my life, without me? You don’t need me to get people excited to call in,” I reasoned, knowing that I was fighting a losing battle.

John’s expression turned serious. “That’s where you’re wrong. You don’t have any idea how much our listeners love you. Every time you come on the show and say anything personal about yourself, our e-mails and the texting hotline blow up.”

“The phone lines have to go crazy too, Cammie,” Scott added. “And you would know because you answer them.”

Sometimes listeners called the station to talk to me directly, but that was rare. People tended to call when they could contribute to the conversation. I’d decided soon after I first started working for the morning show that most people wanted to feel like they were a part of something. They longed to feel connected to other people, to share a common thought or state of mind, and this show gave them that opportunity. I think we all felt better when we realized we weren’t alone.

“Our listeners love your stories.” John leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “I think it’s because the majority of our listeners are women and you’re completely relatable to them, unlike us.”

The shock of his words flowed through me, filling me with an almost unidentifiable emotion. I had no idea if he was lying to me simply to get his way, but I wanted to believe him. Even I wanted to connect and belong.

I placed my pen on the table and narrowed my eyes at them. “Is that true?” I looked between the three of them as they all nodded their heads in unison.

Letting out a defeated sigh, I huffed out, “All right. We can talk about the reunion and the guy. But don’t pressure me into saying something I’m not comfortable with, okay? You have to promise me that you’ll change the subject, drop it, or segue into something else if you see that I’m freaking out.” Knowing that Dalton had confessed to listening to the show each morning, I assumed he’d be tuning in for this one, especially after the night we had.

John and Tom glanced at each other, a silent communication passing between them. “We promise,” they said at the same time, and I stuck out my pinky and waited. As they each connected their pinky fingers to mine, we folded them together and shook, making a solemn vow.

I’d managed to make it through the rest of the weekend without hearing from Dalton, or breaking down and calling him myself. I wanted to send him cute little text messages to let him know I was thinking about him, but my pride stopped me. Sometimes I was grateful for my stubborn pride; the last thing I wanted to do was come off as desperate for his attention as I truly was.

It did seem strange that he hadn’t called me all day on Sunday when he seemed so excited to be back in contact with me. I had no idea what he was up to, but assumed he was still working on his case. Aside from being an undercover cop, I had no idea what his job really entailed. I tried not to take the whole twenty-four hours of no contact personally, but I was a girl and that was the kind of thing we did.

To be honest, a small part of me was grateful I didn’t hear from Dalton because Sundays were literally my day of rest. I knew if he had called and wanted to see me, there was no way I would have said no. It had been far too long since I had to balance a relationship and my job, and I hadn’t dated anyone at all since starting on the morning show.

My hours were completely screwed up, and I had no idea how I’d manage this balancing act with Dalton. I imagined him coming over, excited to see me after his day at work, and me falling asleep within ten minutes of his arrival. Ugh. We were doomed before we even started.

Once our pre-show meeting ended, I printed up the interesting entertainment stories from the past weekend and waited for the segment that would include me. I instinctively knew that the guys would wait until the eight o’clock hour, because that was our prime time, when most of our listeners were in their cars and tuned in.

“Welcome back to
Tom and John in the Morning
. I’m Tom.”

“And I’m John.”

Tom cleared his throat and cast a glance my way before waggling his eyebrows. “So, Los Angeles, if you remember us talking last week about our assistant producer Cammie and her ten-year high school reunion, then you’ll remember that we got her to fess up about being excited to see a certain someone.”

John jumped in. “Yeah, but she wouldn’t tell us who he was.”

“No, she wouldn’t, John. But I think she saw him this weekend,” Tom said with a smile as he waved me in.

“She definitely saw him because she hasn’t stopped grinning since she walked through the door!” John added, and my smile only grew wider as I moved to sit down across from them. Placing the earphones over my head, it occurred to me that I probably should have asked for a raise before I said yes to this.

BOOK: 10 Years Later
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