Trust in Me

“Thank you for letting me come up,” Shortcake said.

“It’s no problem. We love having the company. Come on, let’s go meet the guy who thinks he’s my better half. And dear God, I apologize ahead of time if he starts talking to you about how many eight-point bucks he’s planning to hunt this weekend.”

I watched as Mom took over, guiding Shortcake through the house, and my heart still hadn’t stopped pounding like a hammer to a stubborn nail.

Shortcake looked over her shoulder, her gaze finding mine, and she smiled as our eyes met. I winked and . . .

And her smile widened.





Seventeen

Watching Avery with my sister was painful at first. Shortcake was almost unbearably shy and my sister, God love her, had to lead her through almost every conversation, gently pulling her in. But eventually she relaxed, talking to Teresa about dance, and she even volunteered to help my sister get the sides ready for dinner.

The moment Dad and I were alone, he turned to me in the recliner, smiling slightly. “She’s a good girl, Cameron.”

“I know.”

“I mean, she’s a really good girl.”

I glanced at him, brows raised. “I know.”

Dad watched me closely, that strange smile still playing over his lips. “Did she ever go out on a date with you?”

My lips twitched. “What do you think?”

“I think I know the answer.” Dad tipped his head back. “Are you two seeing each other?”

“No. I told you and Mom the truth. She’s not my girlfriend.” I paused, thinking about the conversation I’d overheard this morning between Mom and Avery. I would be bringing her home for Christmas and she would be my girlfriend by then. “Yet.”

Dad looked like he was about to laugh but didn’t. Opening his eyes, he turned his head and looked me dead-on. “Have you told her about what happened?”

Muscles in my stomach clenched. I knew what he was talking about, but didn’t answer.

Dad sighed. “Boy, you know how I feel about what happened. Was it necessarily the right thing to do? No. But if you hadn’t done it, I would have. But you need to tell her if you’re serious about her. Secrets are . . . well, sometimes they are necessary and sometimes they kill things before they have a chance to grow. You get what I’m saying?”

I found myself nodding, but as my gaze drifted to where Avery and my sister had disappeared from, I felt knots of unease twist in my stomach. I knew I wasn’t the only one with secrets.

I was ten seconds from grabbing my sister’s cell phone and throwing it across the room during Thanksgiving dinner. I dumped another mound of yams on my plate. “Who do you keep texting?”

Teresa smirked. “That’s none of your business.”

I arched a brow. “I’m your brother, it’s my business. Mom . . .” I paused, looking across the table. “You should tell your daughter it’s rude to text at the table.”

Mom sent me a dry look. “It’s not hurting anyone.”

Well, that was no help. I nudged Shortcake with my knee, and not for the first time. “It’s hurting my soul,” I murmured to her.

Avery rolled her eyes as she knocked my leg back.

“That’s sad.” Teresa dropped the phone in her lap. “So, Avery, how did you end up in West Virginia?”

She whipped her spoon through the mashed potatoes. “I wanted to go someplace different. My family is originally from Ohio, so West Virginia seemed like a good place to go.”

“I have to be honest, I would’ve picked New York or Florida or Virginia or Maryland or—” She looked down when her phone chirped and grabbed her cell.

My eyes narrowed as I knocked Avery’s knee. Curious as to who my sister could be chatting with, I acted like I was grabbing for turkey, but went for the phone instead.

“Hey!” Teresa shouted. “Give it back!”

Avoiding her grabby hands, I leaned over into Avery as my gaze flicked to the screen. Murphy? What the fuck? “Who’s Murphy?”

“It’s none of your business! God.” Teresa grabbed for the cell. “Give me back my phone.”

“I’ll give it back when you tell me who Murphy is? A boyfriend?”

The red cheeks were enough of an answer. Granted, I didn’t expect my sister to stay single forever, but she hadn’t been serious since that dickhead.

She slammed her back into her seat, folding her arms. “Mom.”

“Cam, give her back the phone,” she ordered, and when I didn’t budge, her smile tightened in the way that was rare for her. “We’ve met Murphy. He’s a really good boy.”

I was pretty sure that was what everyone had said about the dickhead.

“He’s really nice and I like him,” Teresa said quietly.

I snorted. “That’s not a ringing—”

“He’s not Jeremy,” Dad cut in. “Give her back the phone.”