Tell him?—
Bike engines sound outside.
I turn my head to the window as a hog rolls up.
Just one.
Cam.
Mal’s already heading my way. I stay him with a glance. “I’ve got it.”
He’s not as bullheaded as he thinks. He nods, letting me go, and I know he won’t follow me as I tug a t-shirt over my head—hist-shirt—stamp into my shoes, and trek downstairs and outside.
Cam’s leaning against the wall Mal repaired, helmet off, tilting his face to the sun. He’s more than a decade older than when I met him, but he’s still a hot fucker.
“Since when do you ride alone?”
He shrugs. “Since forever. Escaping from time to time helps me be less of a bastard.”
“Fair enough. What are you doinghere?”
“Saint got vibes when he saw Sol and Jack yesterday, you know how he is. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure about that?”
“I am.” I step over the wall, moving closer, noting how it surprises Cam when I’ve spent the year that’s passed since Folk Whitlock’s wedding avoiding him. “Yesterday was shit, though.”
Instant concern straightens his posture. “More trouble? Saint seemed pretty sure there wouldn’t be.”
I don’t want to know how that came to be. As I shove my hand in my pocket and find the smooth stone I rescued from my room last night, I want to tell Cam the truth. “I told Mal.”
Cam sits with that, processing. “I was hoping you would.”
“Cam, I told him everything.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
Cam rumbles an affirmative and something seems to give in him. “He’s your person. Least, he’s meant to be, and you can’t hold onto shit like that if you’re bleeding from wounds they can’t see.”
“I’m not bleeding.” I’m so used to lying, it slips out of me without thought.
But Cam, he knows me, and has for a long time. “Yeah, you are. But it’s fading, Skylar, I can feel it, and I’m so fucking happy for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So I say nothing, letting it hang until Cam speaks again.
“I need to tell you something too.”
His tone is one that would usually chill my blood.
I don’t mind it today. “Go on.”
Cam waits a beat, breathing room for me to change my mind. When I don’t, the look he gives me is as resigned as it is uncompromising. “Folk was right to steer Mal down a different path with the Couch problem, but Saint overruled how it was left and I agreed.”
“What does that mean?”