Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(75)

She let out a quiet laugh, which said she liked the sound of that. Leaning over him, her face came into view. “Don’t move.” Then she pulled off his pants.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think I’m up to the task right now,” he managed, his voice already hoarse and rough with the impending freight train in his head.

She gave a soft snort and brushed a warm hand over his cold, clammy forehead before covering him with a light blanket. “You can owe me. Where are your meds?”

“Got ’em.” Gavin came quietly into the room with a pill bottle and water. “Emmitt told me where you keep them. Said you needed to take ’em right away or they won’t work.” He was breathless, as he’d clearly run his ass off to get to their house and back in the time he had.

Cam downed the pills and a very small bit of water, not wanting to throw them up. “Thanks.” The only way to get through a migraine was to sleep through it, if he could. Thanks to the military, he could fall asleep at will.

As he drifted off, he heard Gavin ask, “Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Piper said, with the same determination she used both on her job and in her personal life.

A personal life that now included him.

He hadn’t gone looking for this, for her. But he couldn’t have known he’d come home to help his dad deal with the unexpected blow of losing a son, only to also fall in love. With Wildstone. With the people.

With Piper . . .

It wasn’t just the off-the-charts sex either, although that was a pretty great perk. But earlier at Rowan’s makeshift service, she’d been there for him when he hadn’t even realized he’d needed her.

And she was still there, sitting silently at his side in the dark, watching over him, making sure he was okay.

No one had ever taken care of him like this, not without wanting or expecting something in return. He had zero idea what to do with that, but he thought maybe he could get into trying to figure it out.





Chapter 24


“I think the words you’re looking for are wow and amazing.”

Piper woke to her name being said in a gruff whisper.

Cam.

She shot straight up in the chair she’d fallen asleep in, the one she kept near her bed as more of a clean-clothes holder than a place to sit. Her journal fell out of her lap and hit the floor.

It was still dark.

Reaching out with surprising strength, Cam grabbed her hand. “Why are you sleeping in the chair?”

“I wanted to stay close in case you needed me.” It’d clearly been a bad migraine, really bad, and she hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. She’d done some research and had been making a list in her journal of things she could do to ease his pain. Standing up, she brushed her free hand over his forehead, relieved to find him mildly warm now, not cold and clammy as he’d been. “Is the pain gone?”

“Mostly.” He paused. “Not used to being babied.”

She snorted. “I’m not babying you.”

“You did. All night. And don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. But something’s wrong. You’re treating me with kid gloves.”

She hesitated, because he was right. She’d treated him with kid gloves ever since the service yesterday.

With a speed and force she hadn’t thought possible, he tugged her onto the bed, rolled, and had her beneath him, framing her face with his forearms, his fingers in her hair. “Why?” he repeated.

“Not kid gloves,” she said. “Not exactly.”

“Then what?” He frowned. “Is it because of what happened between us?”

She blinked. “Are you referring to the thing we keep . . . accidentally doing on your boat?”

His eyes darkened and heated. “I’ll never drive that thing again without fantasizing about what’s happened there. I might turn it into a shrine.”

Lava coursed through her limbs and she had to shake it off. “That’s not why I . . . treated you different.”

“Then why?”

How to explain? She fiddled with the blanket until he put his hand over hers. “Talk to me, Piper.”

“I’ve been complaining about my siblings since we met,” she said. “And then yesterday, I heard your heart-wrenching story about the accident with Rowan.” It’d wrecked her.

He shook his head. “I fucked up with Rowan. I didn’t, and don’t, deserve your sympathy.”

“You’re wrong. And all I want to do is help ease your pain. Are you telling me you wouldn’t feel the same if our situations were reversed?”

He stared at her, his eyes much clearer than they’d been even a minute ago. At his continued silence, she gave him a small “told you” smile.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’d do anything to take away your pain.”

At his incredibly serious and intense tone, she sucked in a breath while he stared at her some more.

“I need you,” he said softly.

She rocked a little against the undeniable proof. “Need? Or want?”

“Both. Am I alone on this edge with you?”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper, but she couldn’t have held it back.

“Is your door locked?”