One and Only by Jenny Holiday (21)

Cam woke up on Friday morning with one thought in his head: today was the day he’d have to see his mother.

God, he had missed her.

That thought was quickly followed by a second one: Jane had really fucked him over.

Because it was her fault that he was lying here getting all emotional about missing his mommy. And this after he’d trotted out the whole pathetic story of Alicia, which he had never told a single soul. What the fuck?

He didn’t do this. He didn’t wallow in the past or throw himself pity parties. He owned his mistakes, and their consequences, and got on with things. Normally.

But the last couple of days had been such a roller coaster—the particular metaphor that arrived in his head did not go unnoticed—of emotion. It was all Jane’s doing. She had…put the whammy on him, to use Gia’s wording.

It was like she was…made for him.

Cam fancied himself decent in bed. He’d learned pretty early on that if the woman he was entertaining enjoyed herself, it made things better for him, too. So he had become good at reading tiny signs, at delayed gratification. But it was ultimately selfish.

But the way he could play Jane like a violin? Holy shit. It was almost scary. The attraction between them was out of this world. He’d never experienced anything like it, so searing, so out of control. He couldn’t control himself—that was precisely the problem. Take yesterday afternoon. He had embarked on a mission to tease her into orgasm, to drive her crazy by meting out his touch. He’d wanted to blow her mind, to make her feel so good that she let go of everything and became his goddess.

But he’d lost it. He’d utterly and totally lost it. He’d been completely wild, would have done anything, made any sacrifice, at that moment, to not have to let go of her.

He sighed and rolled over, sore from yesterday’s exertions. He wasn’t blaming her. None of it was her fault. In fact, he owed her a huge debt. Sure, he was sitting here having a little Kumbaya-emo moment, but it was better than the alternative, which was shivering at the bottom of a PTSD freak-out. She’d saved him from that.

Because she knew. She somehow knew what to do. Drive into town! Make some hats! Even after they’d gotten out of bed yesterday and the rest of the wedding party had come back from their hike, she’d subtly manipulated things so they stayed inside. She had volunteered him to drive to town to pick up pizzas.

She took care of him.

Christie had never done that.

Christie had been fond of him in her way. While he was around, she enjoyed him. But he could see now that she hadn’t looked after him. Certainly hadn’t ever kept his needs front of mind.

Had anyone ever done that for him? Alicia, he supposed, in the immature way of young love, at least in the beginning. But not ultimately. Not in any real way.

Which brought him back to…his mother.

She had put his needs first. Had truly cared for him. At least as long as he’d let her. He’d always been a challenging kid, but those years after Alicia, he’d done nothing but push her away. Shove her away, violently and with all his strength, making sure with his actions that she’d have to give up on him.

And things had never been the same. They had a cordial but distant, and ultimately not very meaningful, relationship. Which had suited him fine because he didn’t do the emo shit.

There was a knock on his door.

He sat up, panicking. It had to be Jane.

He wasn’t sure he could deal with Jane, not the same morning he had to see Mom.

Because it wasn’t just the spectacular sex that had him marveling over how well matched he and Jane were.

It was everything else. The way she acted like a fucking grilled cheese sandwich he’d made for her was a lobster dinner. The way her cheeks flushed with excitement when she was playing Xena. The way she ruthlessly faced her fears.

He was in love with Jane.

It was a huge fucking problem.

As glorious as it had been to watch her have a psychological breakthrough yesterday afternoon in bed, it was also his worst nightmare—because it meant it was time for him to step away.

Jane had shut herself down as the logical response to the hands she’d been dealt—namely men who hadn’t deserved her love. Now that she was coming out of her shell, she would give her heart to someone else.

That someone could not be him, as much as he might wish otherwise. She had deserved better than Felix, but she also deserved better than him—better than a rough, ex-army, ex-criminal with no prospects.

The knocking continued. He had been trying to become an honorable man. So here was his chance to do the right thing.

He took a deep breath and swung open the door.

It was Jay.

“Hey,” his brother said with a guarded smile. “Mom texted. She’s close. She’ll be here in fifteen.”

Cam was stupidly relieved to be able to postpone his reckoning with Jane. He’d gotten himself so twisted into knots, convinced it was Jane at his door. But why did he assume that there even had to be a big reckoning? Here he was imagining that he’d need to explicitly tell her they couldn’t have a relationship, but when had she ever asked for one? He was no catch—he’d just been thinking as much—and Jane was smart.

“Ha!” He laughed at himself.

Jay’s brow knit in confusion. “Thought you might want to…shower or something.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Thanks, man. I’ll be down soon.”

“Oh my God, I’m so nervous!” Elise said.

“Why?” Wendy asked. “You’ve met Jay’s mom before.”

“I know, but only a couple times, and don’t forget, this is my wedding.”

“I’m pretty sure no one has forgotten that,” Gia said, winking at Jane.

The girls were sitting on a bench outside the main building.

And they were not doing anything.

They were not doing anything!

It was such a weird feeling. Jane’s hands felt like they needed to, like, weave something, or randomly do some calligraphy. She settled for tapping them manically on her legs.

“Why are you so nervous?” Elise asked, her attention drawn by the tapping.

“I’m not nervous.” Jane stilled her hands. She was getting good at lying. Which should probably concern her, but she consoled herself that she had a greater purpose in mind.

“Good morning.”

They all turned at the sound of Jay’s voice. Cameron was with him, which shouldn’t have been a surprise since it was his mother they were waiting for. But still. He was looking right at her, but quickly looked away, as did she. The tips of her ears burned. God, it was like they were in junior high.

In her search for something to look at that wasn’t Cameron, Jane’s eyes landed on Gia. Well. That wasn’t helping. Gia’s eyebrows were sky-high, and she was looking questioningly at Jane.

A gray sedan pulled into the parking lot, providing a welcome distraction.

Jay walked to greet it. Cameron hung back.

A short, slim woman in a jean skirt and black T-shirt disembarked the car. Jay immediately enveloped her in a hug. Mrs. Smith managed to look like both her sons. She had Cameron’s strong jaw and Jay’s thick, dirty-blond hair, though hers was streaked with white.

Elise started to step forward, too, but Mrs. Smith’s eyes slipped right past her, past everyone, like she was looking for someone in particular.

Which of course she was.

When her gaze landed on Cameron, she stopped still, like a statue, both hands pressed against her heart.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, walking toward her. His voice sounded a little off, though probably not enough that anyone besides Jane noticed. It wasn’t an overt waver, just a slight change in pitch.

“My boy,” she said, choking on the words as she started to cry. “My sweet boy.”

He bent over to hug her, and after a couple beats, stood up, picking her up off the ground entirely and holding her tight to him. His mom’s eyes were squeezed shut, and Jane could see the tension in her arm muscles, she held him so tight.

Elise sniffed, drawing Jane’s attention to the lump in her own throat. She turned and grabbed her friend’s hand.

Just when the moment became almost painful, started to feel like they were intruding on something too private, Cameron set his mother down. She moved to Elise next, and Jane was vaguely aware of the two women kissing and hugging. But mostly she watched Cameron. He had walked to the edge of the parking lot, and there he remained, looking out at the road as if he were standing at the edge of a lake or contemplating a vista. She wished she could see his face, but his back had been turned to them through the entire reunion.

“This is my friend Jane,” said Elise, drawing Jane’s attention from Cameron.

Mrs. Smith smiled and offered her hand, which Jane took. It was strange, to be holding Cameron’s mother’s hand, the hand that had no doubt held his so many times. I’m in love with your son! She wanted to burst out with the truth that was rattling around in her chest, to confess as if Cameron’s mother had benedictory abilities, as if she knew the secret to winning her son’s heart.

But Jane was pretty sure no one knew that secret.

Yet.

But she was going to give it a go—she was going to open her eyes and jump.

The day had passed quickly and without incident. His mom had been pretty much glued to his side, which was…nice. Cam wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Maybe more of the generic sentiment she’d expressed in the cards she’d sent him. Maybe more of the “tough love” she had dished out before he’d joined the army.

Instead he had…his mom. From the moment he’d picked up her bag and shown her to her room, she’d stuck to him. Monopolized him even.

“This place reminds me of that series of books I used to read to you,” she’d said as they sat down to lunch with Jay and Elise. “Do you remember? Mystery Inn?”

“Yes!” He hadn’t until that very moment, but once she’d said it, it had all come back. “The inn where every guest came with some kind of mystery!” He laughed from pure delight, and when was the last time that had happened—without Jane being involved anyway?

“You used to beg me not to stop, not to turn the light out,” she said. “Then you’d acquiesce, but I would catch you later under your covers with a flashlight.”

He’d forgotten that, too. It was funny: when he looked back at childhood, he generally saw all the misery. The crimes, the betrayals. The fallen angel stuff. But, to be fair, that had all come later. There had, in fact, been some good times when he was younger. “I, uh, got back into reading in Iraq,” he said, feeling like he was confessing something a hell of a lot more important than that he’d developed a Stephen King habit while in the desert.

“Did you?” she said, squeezing his hand under the table. “I’m so glad. When did you have time to read? At night?”

“Uh, yeah, mostly.” His mom was probably curious about his experience in Iraq, but she wasn’t the type to ask him about it outright. She didn’t push. He appreciated that more than she knew.

The rest of the day went much the same. It seemed that Elise was out of tasks to assign, so mostly they all just hung out. He even gave in to his mom’s insistence that he take a walk with her and Jay. He had been expecting everything to go to shit once they cleared the main area of the property, for the familiar fingers of panic to start clawing at him. He was on edge, waiting for disaster—disaster that never came.

It turned out that having his mom around made him calm. Kind of like Jane.

Except not, actually.

Not at all like Jane.

“Did you have a good walk?” Jane asked as they tromped back to the B&B. Ostensibly, she was talking to all of them, but he knew her question was for him. He knew what she meant: Did you freak out? Normally, that brand of hovering concern would have irritated him, but somehow, from Jane, it was fine. So he looked right at her and told her the truth. “We did.”

“Great!” She flashed him a small smile. “The day went fast, didn’t it? I’ll see you at dinner. I have to go change.”

He did, too, so he said good-bye to his mom and followed Jane up the stairs. Should he say something? Clearly, they didn’t need to have a heart-to-heart about her expectations, but they had slept together yesterday, and it seemed like, regardless of everything else, that called for a little friendly chitchat?

God. This day. This week. All this emotional shit was exhausting, but he could do chitchat. He picked up the pace, because she was getting away from him. Her room was on the second floor. He reached her at the landing and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from heading off down the corridor.

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, a question in her eyes. His heart twisted. In that instant, he saw her as a girl. Well, that wasn’t right. More like he saw her all ages at once. The girl who believed she’d killed her father. The woman who still managed to make herself so vulnerable, who embraced experiences. The goddess.

How could she be all those things at once? How had what happened to the girl not prevented the emergence of the woman, much less the goddess?

“What do you want, Cameron?” She grinned and gestured at her body. “Because I gotta go try to improve on this ugly duckling look, and that’s gonna take a while.” She was wearing the same stretchy athletic pants from the other day, and a ratty Toronto Maple Leafs T-shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail, and her face was bare, not a stitch of makeup visible.

“You’re already a swan,” he said, because it was the truth. She was beautiful.

The smile she graced him with took his breath away.

She skipped off down the hall.

So much for chitchat.