Eve
This is the hardest part, the final crawl to the top. Sweat drips from my hairline, and desert dust coats my skin. I hook my toes in and use my hands to grip rock and pull myself up. My muscles shake with exertion. One more pull and a healthy heft and I’m up and over. I pant for breath, relief.
I’m at the top. I glare at my handsome hiking partner, who’s squatting down looking every bit the Ralph Lauren model and nothing like the sweaty mess I appear to be.
“Thanks for waiting, dickhead.” I smile sweetly and ruffle his thick blond hair. Jeez, it’s not even sweaty! What the hell.
Mason laughs. “Took you long enough. I was seconds away from building a shelter and hunkering down for the night.”
“So funny I forgot to laugh.” I drop down next to him, my spandex-covered ass directly against the rocks and dirt because I don’t have the strength to hold myself up as he does.
I take a deep breath and can practically smell autumn moving in. I turn my head slowly from one side to the other, taking in the panoramic view of the city. Funny how brown Vegas is from this perspective. In the light of day, looking down on the city, you’d never guess there’s anything special down there. If anything, it couldn’t look more ordinary. But I know better. I know that once the sun dips behind these mountains the entire city turns into a carnival of lights and action that is unequal to anything else in the world.
“So pretty up here.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
I look over to see Mase isn’t looking at the view, but rather directly at me. It’s like a sucker punch to the gut.
“Mase, that’s sweet, really, but you know I don’t—”
“Feel that way about me.” He turns his eyes to the view and flicks a rock over the edge. “Yeah.”
I rock into him with my shoulder. “Hey, you know I care about you, right? As a friend.”
“Friend zone.” He groans and drops his chin to his chest. “Awesome.”
“You have no idea how badly I wish I could make myself love you that way, Mase. Honest to God, it would make my life so much easier.”
“Yeah, I know that too.” He throws a rock over the ledge. “Why is that? I mean why do girls like guys who treat them like shit?”
I shrug and wrap my arms around my bent knees. “It’s not like we intentionally go for assholes. It’s just that sometimes we can’t ignore the pull of our hearts.”
“I’m familiar with that feeling,” he mumbles.
A twinge of guilt twists in my chest. “But Cameron isn’t an asshole. That night at The House of Blues—”
“The night you had sex with him in the alley?” His jaw ticks, and I can feel the intensity of his stare from behind his sunglasses.
“Yes, that night. He told me he loved me.”
“He doesn’t. No man who really loves a woman would tell her while fucking her in an alley.”
“Mase—”
“I’m sorry, Eve, but you’ve got to drop these delusional thoughts about Cameron suddenly turning into a nice guy. He’s a player, and for whatever reason, that shit seems to turn you on.”
I don’t want to argue with Mason. I can’t because technically he’s right. Cameron did tell me he loved me right after he had sex with me against a dirty wall in an alley. Ugh, that really does sound awful. Why did it feel so real? Like the power of those words could cure diseases, mend broken hearts, and heal old wounds? Pointless to think about it now.
“Anyway, I walked away from him that night.”
“I remember. You didn’t tell me until after the show, but I could tell when you found me in the crowd that you seemed . . . different.”
I nod and draw swirls into the dirt with a stick. “I was different. It was the first time in my life that I turned my back on something I wanted.”
“And that felt good?”
“It did. I mean I’ve never had control of much in my life, but telling Cameron goodbye was like swallowing medicine. Yeah, it tastes bad, might even give me a bellyache, but I know doing it is eventually going to make me feel better. Make me healthy.”
“I could do that for you.” His voice is soft and so sincere.
“Thank you, Mase. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”
He smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness. He throws his arm over my shoulders and pulls me to his side. “Yeah, you little shit. I’ll always be here for you.”
We sit like that for a while, looking at the view and enjoying the simple act of being. Living in the moment.
My thoughts wander, as they often do after Mason and I have conversations like this. Could Mason be like the city view? Uninspiring from one perspective, but if I got a better look, maybe took the time to see him at a different angle, could he be unequal to anyone else in the world?
Or will I always be the girl, as Mason says, who’s hopelessly devoted to assholes?
##
The drive back to Jonah’s from our hike is a silent one. Mason’s given up for now, and I appreciate him giving my defenses a break. He hits the satellite radio and “Chasing Rainbows” by No Use for a Name fills the car.
I’ve always loved the song, but something tells me he purposely put it on just for me. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye, but he keeps his gaze forward.
Whatever. So he hasn’t given up; he’s just changed tactics. Fantastic.
Having slipped my dusty hiking shoes off before we got in the car, I prop my socked feet up on the dash and listen to the music, choosing to not concentrate on the words, but the instruments alone.
As we get closer to the city, billboards that advertise all the latest Vegas shows and events start coming into view and popping up one after the other. Celine Dion, O by Cirque de Soliel, Blue Man, they flash by the window and start to lull me to sleep.
My eyelids droop behind my sunglasses when a flash of a familiar face that’s ten feet high jerks me awake and upright in my seat. “Whoa!” I turn around to see the back of the billboard disappearing behind us. “Was that—?”
“Yep. It was.” Mason sounds a little annoyed.
That’s no surprise.
I drop back into my seat, fighting back the urge to scream “Turn around so I can get a better look.”
In the quick glance I got, I could tell it was Cameron on one side of the billboard and another guy who I’m assuming is his opponent, Faulkner, on the other. Cameron’s image was intense: his gorgeous dark eyes set in a glare, flawless tan skin oiled up and accentuating his tattoos, fists raised. I also caught the flash of white text. Big and bold—UFL: Rival Revolution.
“When is the fight?”
Mason doesn’t take his eyes from the road; his jaw ticks. “November.”
“That’s next month. Is he ready? I mean are you guys making sure that he’s trained and—?”
He swings his gaze to mine, irritation with a hint of pain working behind his eyes. “You seriously asking me this shit, Eve?”
“Well, yeah, I mean I know you don’t like him personally, but he’s your boss. Are you guys making sure he’s not going to get hurt or get hit—?”
“Fuckin’ hell” he mumbles and shakes his head.
“Don’t be a dick. This is serious.”
He turns angry eyes on me. “You think I don’t see that?” His gaze travels around my face with a look of disgust. “You’re about to jump out of this truck and run to his rescue after seeing a damn billboard.”
Am I? I let out a lung-full of air and sink back into my seat. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head, and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “He’ll be fine, Eve. He’s a good . . . No, he’s a phenomenal fighter.” The compliment sounds as if he had to drag it from his throat.
“How do you know? He hasn’t fought in forever.”
“Everyone knows that.” He stares forward. “You’ve never seen videos of his old fights?”
“No.”
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Really?”
“No, Mase, I mean it’s not like we sat around reliving the glory days when we were together.”
“Huh. If I were him, I’d brag about that shit to anyone who listened.”
Really. Why have I never thought to Google Cameron’s fighting career? Funny, it’s not something he’d ever bragged about, and come to think of it, anytime we talked about his fighting it was always me pressing him for information. He never shared it willingly.
If he’s as good as Mason says, why would he hide it?
“So he was pretty good, huh?”
“No, he was the best. Fighters like that never lose their touch. It’s in their blood.”
“Wow, be careful there, Mase. It almost sounds like you’re giving the guy a compliment.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not a total asshole.” He cringes, slight but noticeable. “I’ll give him credit for getting your dad off your back and for being—”
“Whoa, what?” My heart pounds harder in my chest. “What about my dad?”
His eyes dart from the road to me. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
He mumbles “shit” under his breath.
“Mason!”
“At the hospital, after your accident, your Dad showed up.”
I gasp and cover my mouth.
“Cam stepped up, told the dude he wasn’t welcome, and then ran him out of there. Spent some time with your pops outside, not sure what all went down, but Cam came back in looking like he’d just fucked a dude up.”
He did that for me? “That doesn’t make any sense.” Why would he go to the trouble to threaten the father of a woman he’s about to walk out on? Unless . . .
I study Mason’s profile, and for the first time in a long time, the guy won’t even spare me a glance. “Mase?”
“Hm?” He keeps his eyes pinned to the road ahead of him.
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
His gaze darts to mine but doesn’t commit. “What’re you talking about?”
“What is it?”
“Fuck.”
“Tell me!”
He finds something interesting outside his driver’s side window. “Can’t believe you’re hearin’ this shit from me.”
Are Cameron and D’lilah back together? Does he have a new girlfriend? What the hell is so damn important that he’s hiding it? Fear grips my stomach as I wait for a confession that will most likely kill me.
“Cam took care of your dad’s debt.”
“What?” The single word falls from my lips on a whisper.
“According to Jonah, Cam asked your dad how much it would take to get him off your back. Your pops gave a price.” He shrugs as if it’s no big thing that the man I’m in love with forked over a generous amount of his own money so that I could live free without the extra burden of my dad.
“Oh my . . .” I think back over the last few months. “My dad hasn’t made any attempt to contact me. I figured it was because he didn’t have my new number or know where I was.”
“Cam lined his pockets, paid off the loan shark who fucked up your place, and sent him off with a pretty serious warning from what I hear. Your dad’s a lush and a loser, babe, but he’s not an idiot. My guess is he knows exactly who Cam is and what he’s capable of. Even if you don’t.”
“Wow.”
“Great.” Mason’s sarcastic tone is obvious. “So much for you movin’ on, huh?”
Stunned, I swivel back to facing the highway stretched in front of us. He paid off my dad’s debt and sent him packing with money. All for me. Warmth spreads through my gut and my chest and revives the cold lifeless part of my heart that I’d reserved for Cameron. The corner of my soul that was determined to keep my feelings for him locked away bursts free and brings hope.
But the question remains. Why did he walk away at the hospital? I suppose if I’d given him a change to explain when he’d tried to at The House of Blues I would have the answer.