Page 48

Early December

“Shit!”

Cameron came running into his kitchen at my shout, panting. “What? What’s wrong?”

I held up my bloody finger with a sheepish frown. “Cut myself.”

“Shit,” Cameron echoed, leaping into action as Sam came running in behind him. Once he saw what was going on, he hurried out of the room, presumably to get supplies.

Cameron grabbed a handful of paper towel from the roll on the counter—way too much for the situation—then wrapped it around the middle finger of my left hand. I winced at the sting when he pressed the towel tightly against the wound. “What happened?”

I sighed as he raised my arm higher, holding my fingers above my heart. I’d read somewhere that could help stop the bleeding. “Just nicked myself—I’ll be fine.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ll need stitches?”

I shrugged, my frown deepening. “Not sure.”

He nodded curtly, pulling my hand down and unwrapping the paper towel. Dragging me over to the sink, he rinsed out the cut as I winced again then leaned down to examine it in the light overhead. The sun had gone down hours ago, so I could see our reflection in the window right in front of us. “Doesn’t look very deep. I think you’ll be okay without stitches, provided it stops bleeding soon.” He rinsed my finger off again as Sam came back with some rubbing alcohol, gauze, tape, and a box of bandages.

“Thanks, man,” I offered as he set them on the counter beside us. Cameron flashed him a quick smile in thanks as he reached for the alcohol, cleaning the wound before wrapping it in gauze. Sam took care of the bloody cutting board, tossing the contaminated food on it in the garbage can. We stepped aside after my finger was bandaged so he could wash the board in the sink.

“Shit, I ruined dinner.” The three of us had been doing weekly meals at Cameron’s house for almost a month now, and it had been good to get to know my bestie’s boyfriend and Daddy better. Tonight, I’d been throwing together a salad for us to eat with the lasagna Cameron had warming in the oven. It smelled wonderful, so it had to be almost heated through.

Sam shook his head, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. Damn, the man’s biceps popped under the sleeves of the black T-shirt he had on. “You’re completely fine. We can just put out some carrots sticks or something.” He eyed Cameron playfully. “You can even have ranch, sweet boy.”

Cameron clapped his hands as I scrunched up my face. “Ew.”

My bestie smacked me on the arm.

“Ow! I’m injured here!”

Cameron just laughed as he went over to the oven and turned on the light to check the pasta. “Stop being a big baby. You’re fine.”

I grumbled under my breath, walking over to where I knew they stored the dishes and pulling out three plates. Sam jumped in by grabbing silverware and tearing off a few half-sheets of paper towel for napkins, and we set the kitchen table together as Cameron put the lasagna on the stove and turned the oven off. I heard him rummaging in drawers for what I supposed was a serving utensil.

Sam glanced up at me as he placed the final fork next to the last plate. I felt his heavy stare under my skin. “Are you okay?”

I flicked my gaze to his for just a moment, then I fiddled with the napkin I’d just folded before placing it under the fork in front of me. “My finger is fine, promise.”

His stare got even heavier, and I fidgeted under the weight of it this time. This man was definitely a Daddy. “I wasn’t referring to your finger.”

Damn him and his Daddy perception. But he wasn’t my Daddy—I could play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cameron stepped between Sam and I to set a couple of pot holders in the middle of the table. “He’s talking about how cranky you’ve been for the past few months.” With that astute observation, my bestie flew back to the stove to grab the hot lasagna dish.

I glanced at Sam, who was still sizing me up. “What?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Cameron’s right. What’s been going on with you?”

I crossed my arms right back. “You’ve only known me for a couple of months. How do you know this isn’t just how I am?”

He smirked, and I could understand how Cameron had fallen for this man so quickly. My bestie was stubborn, though, and I doubted he’d fully admitted how he felt to himself, say nothing of Sam. “Cameron talks non-stop about you, and he’s worried. This isn’t you, Tris.”

I dropped into a chair with a huff as Cameron set the glass dish on the pot holders. “It’s nothing.”

My bestie ran over to the fridge and grabbed a bag of baby carrots and a bottle of ranch dressing, setting them on the square kitchen table as Sam took a seat next to me. Cameron slid into the chair across from me, eyeing me as he did. “It’s absolutely not nothing, Tristan. I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but it’s been weeks of silence. It’s time to spill.”

My eyes flicked to Sam before I turned my gaze back to Cameron.