“Hey, little man. You enjoy your breakfast?” I smile at him and he nods, burrowing his head into my neck. I’ve become used to his little displays of affection and I’ll come to miss them when he leaves. Something about the way he hugs, or even touches, is so innocent and sincere. It’s a reminder of what we are, before life happens and takes it from us.
My mother comes to stand in front of us. “Your sister called this morning,” she says. “They are having a wonderful time in Paris, but she says she can’t wait to come home.” Her smile falters slightly. “I’m going to miss having Jordan here,” she adds. The sadness that has taken root in my mother's eyes shines bright. I force myself to look away, afraid that it will stifle me.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask Jordan.
He smiles wide before yelling, “Yes! Go ride in Uncle Cam’s truck!” He claps his hands excitedly and wriggles free from my grasp. He runs into the foyer and waltzes back into the kitchen, holding his backpack proudly. My mother positions it on his back and he takes it as his cue to go to my truck.
My mother looks at me. “Cam,” she starts. “Have you been to see -” I put my hand up to stop her.
“No, Mom,” I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“You can’t avoid it forever,” she says, her bottom lip trembling. “We’ll have to make a decision soon, and I want you to make peace b-b-before….” Her words trail off as her small body trembles, shaking with broken sobs. I wrap my arms around her and try my best to push aside my guilt long enough to comfort her. I want to say I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s not enough. It won’t change anything. It won’t bring back what I took from our family.
My mother pulls away and looks at me. “Cam, I don’t blame you and neither does Candice. We never did. We love you,” she says, cupping my face. “Please, do it for me. Our family needs to heal, and you need to forgive yourself.” I wish her pleas fell on deaf ears, but they don’t. I hear them loud and clear.
“Mom, I - ” I don’t know what to say. It won’t be what she wants to hear, so I try for something that will satisfy her, even if it’s temporarily. “I’ll try,” I say, releasing a heavy breath from my chest. “I just need some time.” Her silent nod is acquiescing and I know she couldn’t possibly understand why I need time, or why I am undeserving of her forgiveness. I kiss her on the forehead and leave the kitchen. Jordan is waiting patiently beside my truck and hops into his car seat as soon as I open the door. He’s quiet in the back, and I can’t say that I mind. It makes it easier for me to deal with the clusterfuck of warring emotions in my chest during the short drive to the daycare center. I cut the ignition and jump out. When I fling Jordan onto my shoulder, his high-pitched squeal and consequent laughter somehow makes me feel lighter, like it’s okay to smile. So I do.
When I walk into the daycare center, the two women that work the front desk both smile at me, batting their eyelashes. This isn’t abnormal. I get this reaction nine times out of ten when I walk into a room. “Mornin’, ladies.” I give them the boyish grin that makes them squirm and they respond with a round of giggles. I try not to roll my eyes when they lean over and push their tits out in an attempt at being provocative.
“Hi, Cameron,” the one chimes. “What can I do for you?”
My eyebrows shoot up at her suggestive tone and she bites her lip. I have no idea who she is, or how she knows my name, but I’m almost certain she’d let me do her on the front desk if I asked. I point to Jordan, still happily sitting on my shoulders. “Delivery,” I say. I lift Jordan over my head and put him on the ground. The other woman leans over the counter and smiles at Jordan. I can’t help but look at her generous cleavage, her nipples barely covered by her pink bra. “Hi, Jordy,” she chimes. “We missed you.”
Jordan hides behind my leg, his cheeks turning red. He’s been coming here for a year so I should’ve guessed they’d know him. When he gets older, I’ll have to teach him that looking at girls like this is fun, but they’re trouble. I’m no saint when it comes to girls and I like a good roll in the sheets as much as the next guy, but I know to avoid the ‘town bicycles’. Another term I learned from my best friend, Noah.
“Can you tell me which class to go to?” I ask, a little impatiently.
“Sure.” The woman straightens up and clears her throat, ignoring the snicker that comes from her colleague beside her. “Straight down the hall. It’s the third room on your left.” I nod my thanks and manage to drop Jordan off without much resistance. He gets a little pissy but I promise to take him for ice-cream after my swimming practice. That does the trick.
I feel hungry eyes on my back as I leave and walk back out to my truck, but what I see in the parking lot renders me speechless. And that never happens.
A woman with an amazing ass is bent over the hood of a Mini Cooper, peering down at the engine. The image and the thought of what I would like to do to that ass does more than stir my imagination. “Fuck,” she mutters. I didn’t think a curse word could sound so sexy coming from a woman’s lips, but hell, I wish she’d say it again. I take a step closer; the gravel sifting under my shoe alerts her to my presence. She spins around and fixes me with an alarmed gaze. Her long brown hair hangs down past her shoulders in soft ringlets. The white tank top she’s wearing hugs her figure and shows off her perfect tits. My eyes move lower, noticing how her jeans cover her long legs like a second skin. Rachel is a looker, but it’s all fake. Fake nails, fake hair, fake tits. But nothing about the sexy-as-fuck woman in front of me is fake.
“Sorry,” I say lifting my hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Do you need help?”
“Yeah, um, my car…” she hesitates, looking from me to her car and then back again. “It won’t start and I don’t think it’s the battery.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
She nods once. “Sure.”
I take a step closer and catch a whiff of her perfume. It’s sweet, and light, and when a slight breeze catches her hair, her scent mingles with that of shampoo. It’s distracting. I shake my head, clearing it of all unsavory images.
“I can’t see anything,” I say, bending over the engine. “But my buddy owns a tow truck business. I could give him a call if you want?”
She pulls her lip between her teeth and I can tell she’s not trying to be sexy. She’s trying to decide whether she can trust me or not. “Do you know how long it will take?” she asks. A frown mars her beautiful features and I wonder what has her so worried.
“You have somewhere to be?”
“I have class in an hour. It’s my first day and I don’t want to be late.”
“You need a ride? I’m heading over to the University anyway.”
She thinks it over. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?”
I throw my head back and laugh. I can’t help myself. She asks the question so seriously. Is she for real?
“What gave me away?” I ask between my fits of laughter. “Is it my tattoos?”
Her lips lift into a shy smile. “Sorry,” she giggles. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I wasn’t expecting help from a complete stranger.” Her eyes drift down my body, paying special attention to my ink.