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“You’re damn right.” She bobs her head in agreement.

Gillian isn’t going anywhere. Whatever brought her to the cabin, she’s here to stay.

So what’s going on? And how long will it take us to pry her apart, layer by layer, until we’ve discovered what makes her tick? It’s inevitable at this point.

It doesn’t matter how much Soren hates her. She intrigues us, all of us.

There’s no doubt—I see it in Soren’s posture and Aiden’s expression. Gillian isn’t getting out of this place without being broken down to her basest level, just so we can understand her presence.

Why it matters, I’ve got no fucking clue.

Chapter 8

Aiden

Insomnia sucks and no one is awake to lie and tell me different.

It’s just one of those things you power through when you’re balls-tired.

I’m on my fourth beer of the night. Or morning. It’s past midnight but my knee bobs and the urge to find my bed isn’t there.

It rarely is even if there’s a gorgeous woman draped over the mattress.

I’m not tired. I’m frustrated, in pain. My knee bothers me, and the doctors can say it’s weather-related all they want.

They can drop their diagnosis like an atomic bomb and tell me I’ll never be able to play football again.

They don’t have to live with a bum leg and a limp.

The fire keeps burning although it’s eaten through our stack of wood, down to embers. The lake is clear without a whisper of a breeze to cause a ripple.

What a fucking fantastic night.

Who needs sleep, anyway?

There’s something about these spring evenings where the rest of the world draws the blankets up to their chinsagainst the chill. They leave me equal parts peaceful and restless.

The cabin has always been our escape.

Soren’s father, Alistair, is my mom’s brother. The cabin is as much mine as it is Soren’s, I like to think, and we’ve been coming here together since we were boys. First with our parents to fish for a weekend in the summer, or maybe even a string of weekends if we were lucky. Then on our own as a break from high school, once we got our driving licenses. And college where we were both too naive to go against our parents’ wishes and choose our own paths.

Until we wised up.

Fuck ’em. They don’t control us anymore.

It’s still nice to escape.

“You’re deep in thought out here. Is it normal for you to stay up past your bedtime?”

Gilli’s voice sounds soft and announces her presence before she takes the Adirondack chair beside me.

“Sadly, yeah.” The vibe is easy but I’m not in the mood for quips. Instead, I offer her a genuine grin. “I've had issues with insomnia since I was a kid. What’s your excuse?”

She draws her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on them, her gaze on something across the lake. “I’m stressed and tired. Sleep isn’t on my radar anymore no matter how tired I am.”

“You know what helps if you’re stressed…” I trail off.

“If you tell me sex or booze, I’ll hit you. I won’t be shy about it either.”