Page 26 of Sunny Skies Ahead (Watford Sweethearts #2)

Chapter seventeen

Kameron

T rying to explore a new romantic relationship while also trying to keep said relationship a secret from your best friends and coworkers was messy.

It was much harder than anticipated, trying to find time to whisk Imogen away.

Connor was only at Winding Road on site a few times a week.

Most of his work could be done from home, since we were gearing up for the next cohort.

Imogen would be the one working from home, and Connor would be here with Lucas and I.

Imogen was also walking through the process of listing the farmhouse. After several conversations with Kelly about the reality of the house’s condition and the value of her land, Imogen made the decision to sell.

I knew it wasn’t an easy choice, but I couldn’t deny how excited it made me. Imogen didn’t know where she was going next, and it would most likely be months before she formally moved, but there was a good possibility she’d want to move here .

Add that to my rising anxiety about getting ready for the Warrior’s Foundation presentation that was coming up in just a few short weeks, and I was drowning.

It was also getting difficult to keep the situation with my mother under wraps. All five of us had a lot going on, and the last thing I wanted to do was to stress my friends out with my crap.

I also realized that this would be one of the last opportunities for me to visit my mother before the next cohort began, because I was a terrible son, and still hadn’t called Gail back to arrange a visit.

With things between Imogen and I so delicate and new, I was nervous to introduce her to this part of my life.

Dementia was a heavy thing to walk through, and Imogen was someone I cared deeply about.

I also knew Imogen’s propensity to take things on where she shouldn’t.

I didn’t want her to feel a sense of obligation to go with me.

And yet, when she approached me the next morning, wrapping her arms around my waist and tucking her face into my neck, the words “I need to tell you something” slipped out before I could hold them back.

Imogen turned to face me, her jaw set in a way that I recognized as a sign of her anxiety rising. The expression made my stomach flip.

“That came out weird,” I said. “Sorry. I’m really anxious.”

Imogen’s face softened. “What’s going on?”

“My mother. . .”

Crap . How was I supposed to tell her this? Would she be mad that I kept this from her despite my good intentions .

“My mother lives in a memory care facility in Laketon.”

There. It was out there, and there was no taking it back. Imogen’s face gave nothing away, and she gave me a subtle nod to continue as she turned towards the coffee machine to make her morning espresso.

“I got a call from the director a few weeks ago. She’s not doing well.”

Imogen’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Kam.”

“I want—I need —to go visit her. I don’t know when things might progress. I’d like to have some memories of her, even if they’re hard. I haven’t visited her as often as I should have these last few years.”

That was an understatement. In the same way that Connor ran from Watford without so much as a text to Abbie, I had run from my mother.

I’d found her a place with Gail’s facility, helped her move out and sell my childhood home, and then I’d hopped on a flight right back to Camp Pendleton.

I hadn’t stopped to consider every longstanding implication of her decline, and what that meant for our relationship.

My relationship with Lilliana had been complicated since my father’s death. She’d walked through an unimaginable loss. As an adult, I had all the empathy in the world for her. As a teenager, I’d wish I could take that pain from her.

But in recent years, I’d walked the labyrinth of untangling that time in our lives, and realized that her actions had impacted my life in detrimental ways.

She’d been grieving, but I had been a child.

She had just lost her life partner, but I’d lost my father and my mother in one crushing blow .

“I’m happy to take things over here,” Imogen said as she pressed the start button on the coffee machine. “Take as much time as you need.”

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to silence the anxiety roaring within me.

“Will you come with me?”

Imogen’s expression morphed into one of shock, though she smoothed it over quickly.

“You want me to go with you to visit your mom?”

Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but her words still dug at some wounded part of me. As much as I poked fun at people like Connor and Lucas who kept their secrets protected, I’d always prided myself on being the one person who laid it all out on the field. I didn’t hold things back.

Except for my parents. My father’s death and my mother’s subsequent illness created a gaping wound within me I knew would never fully heal. I was an open book about everything, except for them.

“Yes,” I said, my voice rough under the weight of the emotion clogging my throat. “I need you with me.”

My feelings for Imogen transcended want. They had for a long time. I was slowly getting to a place where I could admit that if she walked away now, I would crumble. If she met my mother and decided afterwards that all of this was too much, I wouldn’t be the same.

I couldn’t go back to a life without her in it. It felt insane to say that aloud, considering she and I hadn’t known each other that long. We existed in each other’s orbits, twining around each other through the festival last year and Imogen’s work at Winding Road these last few months.

The thought of losing her made me dizzy.

“Hey,” Imogen said, and even though she wasn’t a mind reader, she abandoned the coffee machine and strode over to me, holding my face in her gentle hands. I slid my hands up her arms to cover her hands with mine. “I can tell when you’re going to the bad place, you know.”

I know you can, I wanted to say. You know me too damn well, and it’s terrifying .

As if sensing my discomfort, Bass came running through the back door, rubbing against Imogen’s legs first before coming to sit between mine. I shook my head fondly at the creature. We’d gotten off to a rocky start, but I couldn’t deny how much his presence had grown on me.

“Of course I’ll go with you to visit your mom,” Imogen said, stroking my cheeks with her thumbs. “I’m honored that you asked.”

“Sorry for ambushing you with that,” I murmured, focusing on her eyes as the tightness in my chest eased.

“You don’t need to apologize, cowboy,” Imogen said, and my heart squeezed anew at the term of endearment that was reserved exclusively for her.

“Whatever hesitation you sensed on my part had nothing to do with you asking me to come with you, and everything with my own anxiety about meeting your mom.”

“She’ll love you,” I said, even though my mind sped through the various ways this visit could go poorly.

If my mother was lucid, things would be fine—great, even.

And if she didn’t remember who I was, there was little chance she’d be okay meeting someone new.

I also knew that there was a very good chance Lilliana would say something outrageous to Imogen if she wasn’t fully lucid, and that was the most terrifying possibility out of the three.

“When do you want to go?”

“I just need to call Gail,” I said, glancing at the clock. It was only 9 a.m. “It’s been a few weeks since she asked me to visit.”

“I can be ready in thirty minutes,” Imogen said, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I’ll get dressed.”

She slipped away from me, and I felt the absence of her hands on me like the warmth from a campfire suddenly extinguished. I leaned back against the counter, gripping the edges as I stared at the floor.

“Crap,” I muttered. “Crap.”

Even while regretting every single one of my life choices up to this point, I pulled out my phone and dialed Gail. To no one’s surprise, she was ecstatic to finally hear from me and said we were more than welcome to come to Laketon today to see her.

“She’ll be overjoyed to see you,” Gail said. “I’ll let the nurses know to expect you and your companion.”

I didn’t miss the way Gail’s tone changed around the word companion. I couldn’t help the small smile that spread across my face. Gail was the director of my mother’s facility, yes, but she had also been a dear friend to her for most of my childhood, especially after my father died.

Imogen came through the front door, having walked down to the tiny house to grab her things. She wore a solid green dress that went just past her knees, a cream cardigan, and her favorite pair of sandals.

“Is this okay?” she asked, throwing her hands out and doing a quick twirl.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, walking towards her.

Her face lit up at the praise, and I didn’t hesitate in sliding my hands around her waist and pressing my lips to hers.

She melted into me, her hands wrapping around my neck and pulling our bodies closer together.

I would never stop wanting this—her curls tickling the sides of my face, the small, breathless noise she made when I deepened the kiss.

When we finally pulled away, her eyes were glassy, her chest rising and falling with the effort of calming her breath. The sight did something to me that felt a lot like a four letter word I didn’t dare name, even in my mind.

“You’re bad for my health, Kameron Miller,” Imogen murmured, and I chuckled, not missing the way her eyes widened and her lips parted at the rough sound.

“You find it irresistible,” I said. Imogen shook her head as she pushed past me.

She grabbed my wallet off the kitchen counter, tossing it to me.

I caught it and leaned back against the door as I watched her grab two to-go cups from the cabinet, the creamer from the fridge, and begin making our cups of coffee.

I checked Bass’s food and water one last time and closed the dog door.

The last thing we needed was Bass terrorizing the chickens while no one was here to supervise him.

I couldn’t stop the image that flashed through my mind, of the two of us being like this all the time.

No more sneaking off to the tiny house, no more raucous roommates, just the two of us in our little domestic bubble where the rest of the world couldn’t touch us.

When she returned to my side with two steaming tumblers of coffee, I leaned down for another kiss, which she quickly dodged.

“No sir,” Imogen said teasingly. “If you don’t get your head out of the gutter, we aren’t making it to Laketon before lunchtime.”

The words sobered me, and I drew in a deep breath, settling for a forehead kiss instead. Imogen made a small noise of surprise and I tucked that piece of information away for later.

As I opened the door to lead us down the steps and towards my truck, I reminded myself that I could do this. With Imogen by my side, I felt like I could do anything.

As I slid into the driver’s seat and Imogen took up residence beside me, I realized it was the incessant pull between us, whatever force kept bringing us back together, that had us both risking far more than we’d originally bargained for.