But it became so much more with Chloe. As he spent time with her, he grew to genuinely like her. And the chemistry between them…he couldn’t deny it had been off the charts from the moment he kissed her at Jane’s wedding reception.
How he wished he would’ve told her last night. Then none of this would be happening. Too late for wishes, though.
He screwed up a good thing. What else was new?
“Just like that,” he murmured. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Sometimes the truth is that simple.” She still kept her back to him, those slim shoulders trembling, and he knew she was crying. Which slayed him. He wanted to comfort her but she’d shrug him off and he couldn’t take that.
And their truth wasn’t that simple. This relationship with Chloe had never been simple and that was exactly what he loved about it most. “So this is it, then.” Only a few minutes ago, he’d felt happier than he’d ever been in his life. Relaxed after a shower, starving after a night of endless sex, he’d planned on making her a late breakfast, the only meal he was any good at cooking.
And after that, he would’ve taken her back to her bedroom and had his way with her. Then a shower—together. Then back to bed. Where they would spend the rest of the day tangled in the sheets.
Instead, she’d walked into the house looking like a zombie and rocked his world completely off its axis.
She finally turned to face him, her eyes rimmed with red, her cheeks flushed. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along? To be rid of me for good? Unfortunately, it took you a couple of extra months to make that happen.”
Anger burned inside of him. Warred with frustration and sadness. That she would give up on him so easily, distrust him because of one stupid mistake…
He guessed he deserved it.
“I’ll leave, then,” he said quietly, starting toward her bedroom. He grabbed his T-shirt, pulled it on, stuffed his feet into his shoes. His wallet was still in his back pocket, his truck keys in his front along with his cell, which, thank God, was still holding a charge. He’d have to call someone to rescue him or walk back to The Tree, which he didn’t look forward to.
No way in hell would Chloe offer him a ride now. Her days worrying about his safety were over for good.
He came back out into the living room, paused at the front door, his hand resting on the handle. She sat on the couch once more, her posture straight, her gaze distant. Like she didn’t want to look at him.
And that hurt more than he cared to admit. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.” He opened the door, needing to say more. Afraid she wouldn’t care anyway but he had to do it. “And even though you think I did this out of some sort of weird sense of guilt, that’s not true. I let down all my walls and let you in. I never let anyone in. You know that.”
She sniffed, turned her head away, so all he could see was her profile. “Good-bye Cam.”
He waited, hoping like hell she’d say something else, but he was greeted with nothing but cold silence. “I love you, Chloe,” he whispered, just before he shut the door.
And walked out of her life.
Chapter Twelve
The job offer came five days later, after Cam put some feelers out. An assignment for a national news magazine accompanying a reporter interviewing young war veterans, it would be a compelling piece that had the potential for award nominations and plenty of accolades from within the industry and the general public, his agent had told him excitedly.
He’d accepted it without hesitation. Was flying out to New York the next day in preparation before he went on assignment, which meant he had to get to Sacramento at the butt crack of dawn to catch his flight. Mindy volunteered to take him.
Jane and Mac weren’t really talking to him, which was fine. He didn’t need Jane’s guilt trips, since she was still angry and he’d already apologized to Mac, who accepted it stiffly. He was clearly still mad, too. He’d taken Chloe’s side. Cam knew this because he’d driven by her house yesterday and saw Mac’s car parked in front of it.
The urge to bust into her house and break up whatever little emotional pow-wow they were having had nearly overwhelmed him. But he drove on, pissed that he tortured himself so easily. The jealousy still lingered, thick and black, darkening his mood until he snapped at everyone who came near him.
His mother had tried to talk to him about the accident in Afghanistan, about Chloe, about everything that had happened to him the last five years of his life and he’d finally told her to back off. So now his mom was mad at him, too.
Great.
The only people not angry at him were Mindy, his dad, and the checker at Hillside Market who had openly flirted with him when he’d gone in earlier that afternoon to buy a frozen pizza for dinner. She’d asked if he had anyone to share it with.
He’d had no answer, stunned she’d said such a thing. He, the king of flirtation, the master manipulator of women, had walked out of the store with his tail tucked between his legs.
He needed to get out of this town and quick.
Someone rang the doorbell and he went to answ
er it, warily peeking through the peephole to see his older sister standing on his doorstep, sans kids. He opened the door, saw that she held a plastic bag stacked with takeout containers inside. “Where are the monsters?” he asked, referring to her two sons.