Staying For You Page 4

  Not being able to stop myself, I reach over and look at the two books that are under it, seeing that they’re by her as well. She’s written three books? That’s… well, impressive. I don’t think I’ve read three books in the past ten years.

  “Wow,” I say to myself then turn her car on and drive it the short distance down to her cabin. I’ll load up wood into the back of my pickup a little later and help her get a fire started in her cabin so she knows how to do it.

  I back up to the door and press the button so her back door opens. She must still be on the deck because she doesn’t appear so I walk back inside the cabin and stop in my tracks.

  She’s crying. Head tipped down, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking.

  Fuck.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  I don’t do well with crying.

  When I was growing up with Olivia, if she shed a tear from sadness, I was a goner. I’d climb any mountain to get her to stop. Metaphorically, obviously. But my baby sister’s tears were my Achilles heel from the time I was five years old and since then any time I see a woman upset or hurting, I have this insane desire to fix it.

  Just as I’m about to walk out onto the deck to — I don’t know what, comfort her — crying through the baby monitor pulls my attention from Cami.

  She spins around, a look of terror on her tear-stained face.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt you. It sounds like the kids are awake. If you want to wait to get everything out of your car, I can be back down in a bit to help.”

  She’s shaking her head before I even finish speaking. “I’ll be fine. You go take care of them.”

  “I’ll be back down in a bit — with the wood.”

  Sadness covers her like a cloak. “Not tonight, okay? I’ll be fine with the heater to keep me warm enough.”

  I hesitate then ask, “Are you alright?”

  She offers up a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching her eyes and wipes under her eyes. After taking a deep breath, she grips her forearms and with a definitive nod says, “I will be. I will be.”

  “I’m just up the way if you need anything,” I say, pointing to the lodge just as the sounds coming through the baby monitor grow louder. “The babies, they help. I can be having a supremely shitty day and I’ll FaceTime with either of them — well, they really don’t have a clue what they’re doing but just seeing their faces and hearing their voices, it turns my day around.”

  That gets me a soft smile that wipes away some of the sadness. It makes me feel like a million bucks.

  “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you do your thing. Get yourself settled and if you want to come up tonight and join us for dinner, you’re welcome to. We’re having a really deluxe meal of boxed mac and cheese, peas, canned pears, and cubed ham. I’m sure it sounds incredibly appetizing, but right now I eat what the babies eat.”

  “You don’t have to take care of me, Owen,” she utters softly.

  It’s not the first time she’s said my name out loud, but it’s the first time it affects me. It makes me immediately wonder what it would sound like if she were whispering it into my ear.

  “Well, offering a fancy out of the box and can meal isn’t really doing much, Cami. And it’s just an offer. Truly. If you’d rather hang out here, you’re obviously welcome to. But right now, I need to get back up to the kids.”

  “Go. I’ll stop up later if I feel like it, that okay?”

  “Works for me. Enjoy. And, you have my cell. Call me if you need anything.” I’ve already told her that, but I don’t want to leave. Not even for the kids, which makes me sound and feel like a supremely crappy person.

  “I will. Thank you. For everything. It’s obvious you don’t usually have a lot of guests this time of year and maybe you made an exception for me, but I appreciate it. I, uh, feel like I need to be here.”

  I pause just before leaving, hoping that she’ll find whatever it is she’s looking for here but not wanting to voice it. I also make sure not to tell her that it is a little weird to have guests this time of the year unless they’re ice fishing and even they aren’t around the lodge or main cabins much. I’m happy to have her. I have three ice fishing houses that the guests will rent but they spend all day on the lake. “Anytime.”

  Chapter Four

  Owen

  I quickly head back up to the lodge as I hear Brody yell “O!” loudly and drawn out. It makes me chuckle to hear his cute little voice try to say my name to get my attention. As I push through the front door of the lodge, I holler, “I’m coming, buddy!”

  He replies with an “O? Come?”

  “Yup!”

  I climb the stairs and quickly go into the bedroom the kids are staying in. Brody is standing up in the portable crib he’s sleeping in, his blankie dangling from his fingers and hair a mess. Isabelle’s sitting up in her portable crib rocking back and forth on her butt. Her thumb is in her mouth and she has a few tears on the apple of her cheeks that break my damn heart.

  “I’m sorry. So sorry, kiddos. I got caught up.”

  I pull Issy out of her crib first which ticks off Brody immediately. I tease, “Hey, buddy. Ladies first. Best for you to learn that now. You’re going to be protecting her for the rest of your life.”

  I’m pretty sure that only makes him even madder because he scowls and then tells me, “I stinky.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I thought the sewer was backed up.”

  Neither of them laugh at me, which makes sense because they’re under two and wouldn’t have an idea what I just said. Besides, they’re both cranky for having to wait three minutes for me to get here after they’d woken up from their peaceful nap.

  “Tough crowd,” I murmur.

  I set Issy back down in her crib because no one needs to sit in their own poo for more than a hot second. She screams at me in protest so I grab her stuffed unicorn, kiss the top of her head, and promise that it won’t take me long. She makes it clear she doesn’t believe me, which isn’t a surprise. Rex doesn’t make his baby girl wait for anything. She has him wrapped around her little finger and he doesn’t care one bit.

  “Alright, little man. Let’s get you changed out of that nasty diaper.”

  He wrinkles his nose and looks down where the stink is coming from. “I know. It’s bad. Those chicken nuggets might not have been the best idea for you.”

  Issy’s whimpering is getting louder at being ignored while I try to change Brody’s diaper as quickly as possible, not only because I want her happy, but also because this job is the literal worst.

  I wipe my forehead because I’m sweating, which is obviously a rookie move and I realize belatedly that changing a diaper is not, in fact, the literal worst. Wiping your nephew’s poop on your forehead is.

  “Shit,” I grunt.

  “Shit.” I startle at the clarity in Brody’s voice. I look down at the little trouble maker and he grins. Most of his words, and there are only a few, come out mumbled and garbled. But of course, shit? That comes out clear as a bell.

  “Don’t say that, okay, buddy? I mean, I’m super proud of how articulate you are right now but…”

  He interrupts me when he says, “Shit.”

  “All right, all right, I get it.”

  “Shit!”

  I give him a look that goes ignored. Except for the grin he shoots my way. It’s so adorable it almost makes me forget the fact that I have his feces on my face. Almost. “Now you’re just showing off.”

  He points to my face, giggles.

  “Yeah. I know. I have your poop on my face. It’s my favorite memory of you so far.”

  His response is to slap himself right above his wee-wee, which Olivia and Ethan call his penis because they’re twelve. “Whoa. Whoa. Watch where you’re slapping, dude. First, that could hurt. Second, you want to end up like me?” I point to the forehead poop and he giggles saying, “O!”

  Meanwhile in the corner, Issy is getting more and more pis
sed at being ignored.

  We’re a mess. Literally. Everyone is falling apart.

  “I’m coming, sweet thing. Just hang tight while I clean up Brody and myself, okay?” I tell her. She quiets down immediately and sighs, as if she’s suddenly perfectly content. I look over my shoulder to see her and jump at the sight of someone new in my guest bedroom.

  “Wha… what are you doing here?” I ask Cami, aware of the fact that I have a forehead smeared with poop.

  Cami looks sheepish as she soothes Issy, rubbing a hand up and down her back while Issy rests her head on Cami’s shoulder. “From what I heard on the monitor, it sounded like both the kids were waking up at the same time and I felt bad for monopolizing your time so I figured I’d come up and offer my help. I knocked and I heard you say you were coming and thought you were talking to me.” She looks a little embarrassed about just walking into my house but I’m grateful she’s here, helping out.

  “You’re always coming to rescue me with these two. Don’t tell their parents. I’ve managed to pull the wool over their eyes and make them believe that I’m way more capable than I really am.”

  She laughs quietly, head tipped down toward Issy. I notice everything she does is that way — quiet. I have to strain to hear her voice, even walking in here just now, I didn’t hear a single sound. Subtle is an understatement. Not necessarily timid or shy, but maybe isn’t used to allowing her voice to be heard. Nervous that she’s a burden… absolutely. Considering that I’m not around people one-on-one very often, my family is surprised at how perceptive I am. However, I’ve always been good at reading people.

  When she raises her head, I realize that I’ve been staring at her since I first noticed she was here. I jerk my attention back to Brody, the little poop machine, and make sure he’s settled before setting him on the floor. I’ve been using an old dresser as a changing table, of sorts. Olivia brought up a long pad that fits the surface and had me clean out the top drawer for when I was watching the kids. I keep all their diapers and supplies in it and as much as I hate to admit it, my sister was right. The changing table, or at least that’s what my sister said it was called, is a big help.

  “Uh, I don’t suppose you’d mind watching these two while I…” I point to my forehead and wince. I can handle a lot of things but having my nephew’s poop on me is something I’d rather not have a repeat performance of.

  “Get the poop off your face?”

  “Yes.” I chuckle.

  “Go ahead. I think I can handle it.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her, brushing past her and making my way into my bathroom.

  I quickly wash my hands first then wince again when I catch side of the damage on my face. Gross. I use some toilet paper to clean myself up then scrub my face with enough soap to scrub down an entire football team. Once I’m sure I’m cleaned up, I head back into the guest bedroom.

  “Is this what you sing?” I hear Cami say to the kids. She’s sitting on the floor, Issy on one leg and Brody on the other. They’re facing each other and giggling when Cami starts bouncing them up and down. “The wheels on the bus…” she starts singing. The kids look up at her, Brody’s facing me and I can see the brilliant smile on his face as he listens to her continue to sing. I’ve heard my sister and Chloe sing to the kids before and let me just say, no recording studios will be knocking on their doors anytime soon to sign them.

  But Cami.

  Cami. Her name is a moan inside my head.

  Her voice is beautiful. Soft but still a little husky. She sounds like she should be singing to a crowded room in a blues or R&B club. No one would be talking. Their attention completely on Cami and the way she’s captivating them with her voice. She would have her eyes closed, standing on the stage, gripping the microphone and no one would be able to tear their attention away from her. Not that they’d want to. She’s too pretty not to stare at.

  Even singing a nursery rhyme that’s been around for a million years, it’s the most incredible voice I’ve ever heard. So much so, my feet become glued to where I stand. I don’t want to make a sound for fear of her stopping.

  “O!” Brody cries out, outing my presence but she doesn’t notice. She must think he’s just jabbering or exclaiming his happiness over her singing.

  But then he points in my direction and she turns her head. Our eyes connect and that’s when I see what I missed earlier. The sadness she was wearing just minutes ago like a cloak isn’t covering her like it was. The magic of The Escape, maybe? Or possibly the magic of the Brody and Issy duo.

  “I think she needs changed, too. I just wasn’t sure where her things are,” Cami says, looking down at Issy. She gently lifts Brody off her lap so he’s standing and I reach down to take Issy from her so Cami can stand herself.

  “No worries. I’ll get it. Thank you for your help. I mean it. It just all kind of happened at once.”

  “It’s okay. I have a brother with Irish twins.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When kids are born basically one year apart. Anyway, I know how it is. Now they’re a bit older but his wife always said sometimes she thought actual twins would be easier. One was always just a few steps ahead of the other in development and it made it hard to keep up.”

  I lay Issy back on the dresser to change her diaper. “Ahh. Yeah. That’s actually spot on. It’s like I know Brody can walk and play differently than Issy can but she needs quite a bit of help yet.”

  “They’re adorable.”

  I grin and finish up changing Issy then lift her in my arms, resting her on my forearm so she’s looking out, back against my chest, feet dangling over my arm.

  “I’m sure I’m a bit biased but I tend to agree.”

  Cami walks over and runs the back of her finger down Issy’s cheek and I watch her expression soften almost to what I would call longing.

  “No kids of your own?” she asks, eyes still focused on the baby in my arms.

  “Ha! No. I’d have to actually be in a relationship — or, you know, be around people for that to happen.”

  “You don’t want kids?”

  “It’s not that,” I say and turn away from her and gesture for her to follow me so I can get a bottle ready for Issy and a small snack for Brody to tide him over until dinner in an hour.

  I grab an empty bottle off the draining rack and fill it up. Issy’s legs kick and kick with excitement. After grabbing a sippy cup of milk out of the fridge for Brody and a small bowl of Goldfish crackers, Cami follows me into the living area where I sit back in the recliner and feed Issy her bottle. She’s old enough to hold it herself, but I like to do it. Soon she’ll be gone and the next time I see her she’ll probably not even be drinking out of bottles anymore.

  Brody sits down on the floor beside my feet and munches away on his crackers and sucks down his milk like I’ve been dehydrating him.

  Remembering the last thing she asked me, I turn to Cami who’s taken a seat on the couch off to the side of me. “Someday, sure. But I like living here for right now. I enjoy being away from it all. I have goals for the resort which means I don’t allow myself a lot of time to date or get to know many people outside of the guests who come here.”

  “What kind of goals?”

  I lay my head back on the headrest of the chair and push with my feet so it rocks back and forth just slightly. “My main goal is to help build family connections. I hate technology.”

  “You hate technology?” she asks, tucking her feet under her butt.

  “Not all technology, but most, yeah. I mean, I love electricity and plumbing. Internet is convenient, of course. But for the most part, I feel like we’re too reliant on it. So many of us live and breathe by our phones.”

  “You don’t?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve made it a point not to. I’d rather be looking up at the world than down at a device in my hand. I can’t stand the thought of being controlled by social media or the need to constantly be on,” I explain.

  She nods,
brushing a hand down her thigh. “I feel like I understand that more than I expected to.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, turning my head to the side and switching Issy to the other arm.

  “If I would have heard last week that social media and our cell phones were trouble, I would have laughed. Now, though? Not so much. I see it. It’s a dangerous rabbit hole, huh?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “Honestly, I’ve never allowed myself to get there. I only have social media for The Escape, nothing personal. So it’s not as if I’m scrolling through or updating about my life.”

  “Never been an interest to you?”

  “Nope. Thank goodness.” Issy finishes the last of her bottle and lets out a very unladylike belch then squirms to be put down on the floor so she can torment Brody by trying to steal his snack. It’s a fun game she plays that makes me laugh.

  Issy scoots on her butt to get as close as she can then stares at Brody, reaching out a hand to try to grab a cracker. He pulls his bowl of Goldfish crackers close to his chest and scowls at her saying, “No, no.” It has no effect on her. She just giggles and claps.

  “I wish I wouldn’t have ever had an interest in it.”

  “You addicted to your phone, Cami?” I tease.

  She looks down at her lap and twists her lips. “Kind of the nature of the job, I suppose. It’s hard to turn it off, not feel like I should be available. I love it, but it also is what brought me here.”

  “What is it you do?” I ask even though I know she’s an author. Or at least, she was at one point.

  “I write romance novels.”

  She holds her head up and straightens her shoulders when she tells me this and I wonder if she’s been chastised for it in the past. I know I’ve teased my sister before when she acted like the guys in books were real.

  “Actually, I saw that on your front seat when I moved your car for you earlier. How many have you written?”

  “Eighteen.”

  I choke on my own spit. “Eighteen? Are you serious?”

  She blushes and pulls her hair over one shoulder. “Yes. Though, I’m starting to wonder if I already used up my good words. The last few books haven’t done so well for me.”