My dad had mentioned that he was at the hospital every night, but the lingering sadness and exhaustion behind his eyes seemed to permeate his entire personality, following him like a storm cloud.
One night, not long after I turned fourteen and a few months after my father told me Savannah had made a full recovery and been discharged from the hospital, I was babysitting for Nash and Jovie’s twin sons, who I had just tucked into bed.
The Camerons were still out on a date night and were expected home closer to midnight. They had offered me one of the guest rooms to sleep in so that my dad, who was on call that night, wouldn’t need to come pick me up until the morning.
I walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water before settling down to watch some TV when the front door of Ashwood Ranch suddenly burst open.
Clay stumbled in through the doorway, looking much more muscular than the last time I’d seen him, dressed in a tight white T-shirt that clung to his well-defined chest and tapered down to faded, light blue jeans.
He was wrapped up in a woman whose blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders and covered his body where she’d stretched her arms tightly around his neck and was kissing him passionately. His fingers gripped her waist as he held her firmly in place against his chest.
I stood frozen watching them, my awkward fourteen-year-old body swathed in striped flannel pajamas that suddenly felt too large. Despite my growth spurt this past year, I still had to stretch on my tiptoes to reach the cupboards and I was currently frozen in place doing just that.
When they finally broke for air, Clay’s head turned to the side, noticing me for the first time. The woman made some sort of weird moaning noise against his neck. He shot me a wink before unraveling her arms gently and murmuring something in her ear. She took off for one of the free guestrooms without ever acknowledging me.
He glanced at me again before striding over to where I stood in the empty kitchen, now holding the glass I had retrieved. Bending down, he crouched in front of me, and I took him in. His lips were slightly swollen from the aggressive kissing, his eyelashes, ridiculously long, and his normally gentle eyes were full of sadness. Cautiously, he reached up and tucked one of my chestnut-brown curls behind my ear like a father would to a child.
“That’s not Savannah,” I choked out, trying to swallow the taste of bile that had risen in my throat.
I wasn’t a kid anymore; I was a teenager who understood cheating, relationships, and dating. Even though my own experience with that was limited to a boy in my class passing me a note saying that he thought I was cute, only for me to catch him the next day passing a similar note to my best friend.
Clay shook his head, a flicker of sadness shot through his dark green eyes before he shook his head again. This time, eyes glazed over by drunkenness looked back at me.
“No. It’s not. Savannah ended things with me.”
“But you... but you stayed by her side while she was in the hospital.” The words spilled out uncontrollably, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, realizing too late that I couldn’t take them back.
“How old are you now?” he asked, tipping his head to the side.
“Fourteen.”
He nodded, rubbing his jawline as he continued to gaze intently into my eyes. I knew I should look away, perhaps grab my glass of water and retreat to my room to give them privacy to finish whatever they were doing. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I needed to understand why Savannah would break up with a guy like Clay who’d stayed by her bedside faithfully while she’d been in a medically induced coma for months.
“The man who had been driving Savannah’s car during the accident was her culinary school professor. It turns out they had been having an affair behind my back.”
I gasped, not expecting that to be his explanation at all. “Omigod. I’m sorry.”
He nodded, “I know you know about loss, Maggie. You lost your mother when you were a little girl, right?”
I nodded, catching the strong scent of bourbon on his breath. It was a familiar smell; the same one my dad would have after a grueling double shift or on the anniversary of my mom’s passing. But tonight, it was as if Clay had bathed in it. And with the slight sway of his body as he tried to steady himself, it wouldn’t have surprised me if it was seeping from his pores.
“My mom never got to see me become an adult,” his eyes were still locked on mine, but they weren’t focused. It was as if he was looking through me instead. Searching for a memory from his past. “I wonder what she would have thought of me.” He cocked his head to the side then sighed before refocusing his green irises on mine.
I nodded quickly, even though it wasn’t a question. I often found myself wondering if my mom would be proud of the person I was becoming, too.
“Don’t fall in love if you don’t want to experience pain, Maggie. Trust is fragile and easily broken. It’s a pain that seeps under your skin, courses through your blood, and seems to infect everything it touches. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
My eyes widened as I nodded aggressively once more before a cool smile spread across his lips. He nodded as if he was pleased that his message had made its way through to me then stood up and patted my head as if I was a small child. Which compared to him and his towering stature, I guess I looked like that. I still hated every bit of the gesture and how young it made me feel.
“Now go back to sleep and don’t tell my brother Nash that I’m crashing here tonight,” he winked.
I nodded and hurried back to the room where I was staying, quietly closing the door behind me. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears that I could hear its rhythmic thud, and my lips felt so dry I feared they might crack.
Pressing myself against the old, cold oak door, I listened intently until I heard the other guest bedroom door open and close, followed by the faint giggles of the woman he had come in with drifting down the hallway. Racing to the bed, I grabbed a pillow and tugged it over my ears, trying to drown out the noise and fall asleep.
That night, I made up my mind to let go of my foolish, childish crush and everything I thought I knew about Clay Cameron. The man he’d become was nothing like the kind, gentle, easy-going guy I’d admired since before I even understood what love was.
This Clay was a man deeply scarred by someone he had loved. I could see now that he wouldn't hesitate to break another woman's heart—coldly and without a second thought.
