Page 39 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)
JULIET
T he rays of the evening sun slide over my skin, playing peekaboo with the scar on my shoulder and the lily of the valley tattooed just below it.
Birds twitter in the maple trees, now full of lush green leaves, while the scent of freshly cut grass and grilled chicken tickles my nose, wafting over the water as families prepare their dinners in the homes spaced around the lake.
Cam is unusually quiet, but I try to ignore it. It’s probably just from a long and busy school year that’s finally come to an end.
Things between us haven’t been exactly normal since the accident though.
We’ve kept our regular routine of spending the weekends together, as we’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm that works for both of us.
But the tension in the air has become more noticeable lately, and I wonder if it’s because of my accident or because he regrets adding me into his life to this extent.
I’m beginning to think it’s the latter, and his text about canceling our tourist plans—saying it was on my behalf—made it all the more obvious.
Cam enjoys his solitude, and I feel guilty I’ve essentially taken that away from him.
He’s pulling away from me, a little at a time.
But I’m not letting go. He might be the fish that wants to break the line, but I won’t let it be that easily severed.
So I packed a picnic dinner complete with sandwiches, several bags of chips, and bottled cherry limeade margaritas, which is the most summer-y drink I could find at Phil’s grocery store.
We sway gently as the warm breeze brushes the water, causing small waves to lap against the boat.
Cam sits across from me, his white T-shirt tight over his biceps and his worn blue baseball cap shielding his eyes from the sun.
He’s a statue, his face hard as he keeps his focus on the line in the water.
The orange bobber floats a few yards out from the boat, also rising and falling with the rippling of the lake.
Dax sits behind me, enjoying the sunshine on his white fur and the sights and smells we missed for so many months.
Turning around to fiddle behind me, I pull the cooler close to my seat and cover it with the towels and life vests we have on board.
Once I’ve created some form of a bed, I lay back on it, exposing my neck to the sun and closing my eyes.
It’s rather warm for only being the first week of summer, the June temperature having drastically rocketed to eighty.
Light and shadows dance on the back of my eyelids, and I can almost imagine I’m on the beach somewhere, enjoying the sand and the roar of the ocean.
I open my eyes to see Cam watching me. He averts his gaze and clears his throat.
I sit up and rub gently at my shoulder, squinting from the brightness of the sun.
“Does it still hurt?” Cam asks.
Somehow, without even looking, he noticed I was touching my scar .
“No,” I say. “Not really.”
“Hm,” he hums, but doesn’t say anymore.
My stomach growls so loud I’m surprised Cam doesn’t hear it.
The sun is quickly dipping behind the neighboring mountains as night approaches, and the moon is already visible high above. So I open the top of the cooler, grabbing the items I brought for our dinner.
“Are you hungry?” I say as I pull out the sandwiches and drinks.
“Yeah, actually.” Setting his rod in the holder behind him, he reaches forward to take the sandwich I offer him.
His fingers brush mine, making my stomach flutter, hundreds of pesky little butterflies feeding on accidental touches and unrequited affection.
Cam doesn’t seem to notice the touch or what it does to me as he takes his sandwich, unwraps it, and starts to eat. He’s averted his eyes during most of this outing, always looking at the water as we speak, or past my shoulder toward Dax. He’s not usually standoffish, and I’m beginning to worry.
I thought it would be a good idea to keep up our tourist list activities, enjoying Maple Lake to the fullest this year, but Cam seems to have truly lost his desire to spend this much time with me.
He’s given me so many mixed signals. I’m finally accepting my feelings and working to move forward with him, while he’s reaching back, holding onto the past. Maybe he still only sees me as Tyler’s little sister, the ten-year-old girl that he doesn’t see as anything other than a child.
We’re just friends. He doesn’t want you like that.
I blow out a quiet breath and enjoy my meal.
Once I’m taking the last bite of my ham and swiss sandwich, a dollop of mayonnaise makes its way out of the bread and drips down my fingertips.
I forgot to bring napkins and have nothing else to clean myself with, so I lick the mayo off my finger, feeling more like Dax’s canine sister than his owner.
I hear a bird call and look up to find it, but my eyes catch on Cam who is, again, looking directly at me.
His lips are set in a tight line and his jaw clenched.
He starts to pull his eyes away, but something seems to keep his attention on me.
His brows dip into a frown, and he rolls his lips into his mouth.
My whole body heats from his stare, while his eyes don’t move from my face.
The tension is overwhelming, and the silence deafening, but my heart seems to want to fill it with its own sounds, pounding around in my chest as if to say, let me out, let me be free, let me be with Cam .
I should tell him how I feel right now. This is my chance. And if he doesn’t feel the same, that’s okay. I would survive. I’d get past the rejection like I have before.
But, also, if he doesn’t feel the same, I could lose him . There’s no way our friendship would be able to withstand a blow like that. It would be like trying to perform open heart surgery alone with no medical equipment and no surgeon. It’s impossible.
And the idea of losing him scares me because that pesky hole in my heart has finally found something the right shape to fill it.
I never get the chance to know what Cam’s thinking because the fishing line behind him begins to quiver, and he turns away to grab it, pulling the line taut. Dax whines and his tail wags with excitement as he senses the change of energy on the boat.
Cam begins reeling in the line while working to keep the tip of the rod out of the water.
Muscles in his arms strain under the weight of what must be a large fish, and his T-shirt stretches tight across his back.
The line moves through the water as the fish attempts to swim away, and I watch as the thin clear wire heads toward my side of the boat.
As he stands, Cam grabs the bill of his hat and turns it around so it’s no longer shading his eyes.
The excitement in them at the prospect of a catch, reflecting extra bright and green with the surrounding water, makes his face beam.
He looks nothing like the sullen man who’s been sitting in this boat with me for the past hour.
The fishing line stretches over my head as the fish circles us, and I duck as Cam holds it up high, keeping the rod away from my face.
With his hands lifted over his head, his T-shirt rides up just enough for me to see a sliver of his sculpted torso along with a sprinkling of light brown hair across his stomach.
As a nurse, I have to see all kinds of bodies, which I’m completely okay with since it’s my job.
It’s become easy to switch on my nurse brain while I’m at work, completely taking away any interest or distaste when I see questionable body parts.
But no matter how hard I try now, there’s no way I will be able to see Cam’s body through the lens of a nurse.
He’s Cameron Dunne, the sexy teacher that has brought me back to life and is now leaning over my body on a rowboat in the middle of the lake while sunset casts an ethereal glow over his entire body.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
Dax’s whines become louder, so I reach my hand back to comfort him, knowing he’s not used to so much action—or maybe he just wants to catch the fish—but my hand only grasps at air. I don’t feel him there and my stomach lurches.
Before I even have a chance to register what’s happening, Dax has slipped past me and is quickly heading for the other end of the boat.
I try to grab his collar but he’s too quick.
I’m not sure if Cam notices the dog because I don’t have time to look up at his face or give him a warning, but in less than two seconds, Dax scrambles between Cam’s legs, causing him to lean this way and that as he struggles to keep his balance on the boat.
His arms sway, the boat sways, we’re all swaying.
Cam drops the fishing rod in an attempt to hold onto something, but Dax doesn’t seem to know where he wants to go, and his energy level is spiking, his tail wagging vigorously, whipping me in the face.
Cam can’t sit down with Dax standing between his legs and suddenly, without warning, I see my very large friend falling toward me.
In the split second that I have to prepare myself for impact I wonder if it would be possible to throw my hands out and push him over the edge instead. A splash in the water wouldn’t be as bad as him having to live with the fact that he killed me under his giant manly body, would it?