CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I woke to my phone vibrating against a book and headphones on my nightstand. I’d turned the ringer off when I finally got home the night before because I desperately needed sleep. The last few weeks had been a hodge podge of naps and restless nights. I grabbed the phone before it fell off onto the floor.
It was only seven in the morning. Four hours of sleep. I couldn’t keep going like this. I’d hoped to stay in bed until at least nine before getting up for church.
I’d missed the call, but that didn’t matter because it started vibrating again.
Dylan.
“Hey,” I said rolling onto my back. “What’s up?”
“A shitstorm. Can I get you? We need to talk.” Dylan’s voice strained.
“I have church.” I pressed the heel of my free hand against my eye.
“Church?”
“Yes, church.” A yawn slipped through my lips. “Every Sunday.” And I meant every Sunday since I could remember, even when Dad had been in the hospital. My eyes widened with a crazy idea. “Come with us.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Put on nice jeans, no holes, and a collared shirt and come over.” I yawned again, not very ladylike either. My mouth tried to inhale all the air in the room. “I’m going back to sleep.”
The phone fell from my hand as I drifted back into bliss.
“Cam, get up,” Mom shouted a few minutes later.
The last thing I wanted to do was roll out of bed. I pulled my phone from beneath my pillow. It was nine. If Dylan hadn’t called me, I would’ve had six hours of uninterrupted sleep. I wondered if he was going to church with us. I opened my messages and sent him a text.
Are you coming with us?
His reply was fast. Yes.
Where are you? I sent back.
In your living room.
I smiled. By the sound of the shower, Jake was up. Mom banged a pan in the kitchen and the faint voices of the TV came from the living room along with Dad’s muffled laugh. I could barely hear Dylan’s voice, but it was there. I climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to the living room.
Dylan sat on the sofa with one ankle resting on his knee. His hair was extra messy and shiny. A stubble had started on his jawline. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. Dylan laughed at something Dad said. I wasn’t listening. My focus was on Dylan. He’d put on a black polo with gray dress pants and dress shoes. I’d never seen him in anything but t-shirts and ripped jeans. It was sexy as hell.
“Hey, Pumpkin,” Dad said with a laugh.
Dylan turned toward me. The laughter in his eyes disappeared into something else entirely. If he kissed me in that moment, we’d never come up for air.
Mom cleared her throat. I tore my gaze away from Dylan and looked at her. She stood in the kitchen in a yellow dress and motioned up and down. I cocked my head, because I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. She raised her eyebrows, pointed at me then repeated the motion. I glanced down at my clothes. Or lack there of. Shit. I was in a t-back tank and sleep shorts. My eyes widened and I turned around, running into my little brother as he came out of the steaming bathroom.
“Watch it, loser,” he muttered before disappearing into his room.
I took a quick cold shower, then hurried back to my room to get dressed. I’d never worried about what I wore to church before, but I wanted Dylan to look at me like he just had again. I’d also wanted nothing more than to climb on his lap and kiss him into oblivion, among other things. That would have to wait.
“Hurry up, Cami,” Mom yelled again. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
Shit, shit, shit. I grabbed a white sundress and slipped on a pair of tan sandals. My hair was too wet to do much with. I towel dried it again and used the blow dryer until it was just damp then pulled it on the top of my head in a messy bun. Not my best look, but it did in a pinch and I was definitely in a pinch. I put on mascara and lip gloss because I was out of time. The front door had opened and Mom had already started the car. It wasn’t the first time I’d ever been the one making us late for church. I knew the drill.
The living room was already empty. I rushed out the front door, only to watch Mom drive away. My shoulders dropped. The church wasn’t far away, just over a mile, but it was hot outside already and walking wasn’t my idea of a good time. I looked toward the street. Dylan leaned against his car with his ankles crossed and his hands in his pockets. I hadn’t even thought of taking his car. Silly me. The church routine had been ingrained in my life for so long, it only went one way. We were doing something new today. New was good.
I walked toward him, but he didn’t move. His gaze traveled up and down my body before meeting my eyes. I stopped in front of him.
“You’re killing me, Cam,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow and put my palm over his overacting heart. “Am I?”
“Destroying my resolve.” He swallowed and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he had the same expression he had in the living room. “I wanted nothing more than to carry you back to your bedroom and not come out for days.”
I smiled, sadly. “But you won’t.”
“No,” he said.
I leaned in and pressed my lips gently to his. “Let’s go. All this talk about sin is making me want to risk hell.”
Dylan chuckled. “Me too.”
We climbed into
