Make It Right (24 page)
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After Camilo “Cam” Ruiz graduates from college, he finds himself in the last place ever expected: his hometown. But he returns to Paradise and picks up a job as a bouncer so he can help his mother while he decides what to do with his life.
There’s only one thing that can make his return any harder—running into his high-school sweetheart, Tate, the only girl he’s ever loved. And when he sees her again, he’s shocked to learn the pain of their breakup all those years ago hasn’t lessened. Not one bit.
Tate Ellison made a mistake when she was eighteen, and it cost her the best thing that ever happened to her. She’s always regretted losing Cam, but she’d hoped the regret would fade over time. Too bad it’s only grown.
She never imagined Cam would come home, and seeing him after all she sacrificed is a slap in the face. But when they’re confronted with the truth of the past, they wonder if this time, can they make it last?
Coming January 2015
H
E’D BEEN HOME
three weeks before he could no longer avoid this place.
And the worst part was, it hadn’t changed. Not one bit. Not the red pleather booths lining the wall—even the corner one still had its trademark X in silver duct tape covering a wicked tear. Not the robin’s-egg-blue Formica countertops. Not the silver rotating stools at the counter. Not even the temperamental soft-serve ice cream, which a waitress currently wrestled while a salivating kid watched.
Not the flickering Paradise Diner sign out front, the second
a
blown out so it looked like P
AR
DISE
. Which wasn’t far off, in this town, where everyone blurred their syllables.
You’re not from Pardise, are you?
It was like he’d pressed
PAUSE
while playing Utope, freezing every character in the game into status quo indefinitely.
Cam Ruiz didn’t know whether the static nature of this damn place was comforting or infuriating. Because all of it reminded him of her. Her little black apron covering little black shorts. Those damn wedge sandals that she said made her calves and ass look good so she got better tips. Her laugh when he’d sit at the counter right before she got off her shift, sucking down a milk shake while she mopped up the spills, shooting him flirty smiles.
Fuck, it’d been four, going on five years now. Why couldn’t he just forget?
He had chosen a booth he didn’t think he’d ever sat in back in high school, right near the front door. He sipped from his plastic cup of water and looked down at his watch, then at the door. There weren’t tons of places open at noon to eat, so when his friend, Max Payton, called and asked where to meet, Cam froze. Then his mom yelled, “Pardise Diner!” in the background. Max had heard, and the meeting location was decided.
Through the dirty windows of the diner, Cam saw the rusted piece-of-crap truck Max drove rumble in. His friend hopped out of the truck, sunglasses in place as he squinted at the sign, and then helped his girlfriend, Lea, hop down out of the passenger side. She looked good, her limp slight, her dark hair shining in the late May sun.
Max held open the door and a bell tinkled overhead. Lea spotted Cam right away, and he stood as she hugged him. He greeted Max with a handshake and manly back slap. As they slid into the booth, Cam on one side and Max and Lea on the other, a commotion at the counter caught his attention. A squeak followed by harsh whispers. He turned his head and all he saw were the doors to the kitchen, swinging back and forth. He shrugged and turned back to his friends.
“Thanks for visiting me,” he said.
Max laid his arm behind Lea along the back of the booth. “Wanted to see the town that raised the great Cam Ruiz.”
Cam rolled his eyes.
“It’s definitely small,” Lea said. “But I like it. Very welcoming and homey.”
He guessed so, if moving back didn’t make him feel like he was taking a step backward. Like a reset button wiping away the basic training for the Air National Guard, the weekends at drill, the three and a half years he busted his ass to graduate college early.
A waitress he’d never met came to take their orders, her eyes lingering a little long on Cam. Not in a flirty way, like he was used to. Plus, she was probably his mom’s age and wore a wedding band. But she studied his face and his clothes and it made him uncomfortable. He wanted to ask if he had something on his face or in his teeth.
After they ordered, Max turned to Cam. “So how’s your mom?”
She was the reason Cam had come back. The only reason he’d return to Paradise. He shrugged. “She’s all right. She’s just . . . tired and she’s got a bad back. Every time she gets a job, something happens and she loses it.” He waved a hand toward the door of the diner. “Not like there are tons of jobs around here for her to pick from.”
The waitress delivered their drinks and when she walked away, Lea placed her hand on top of Cam’s where he twisted his straw wrapper in his fingers. “Anything we can do while we’re here to help?”
Cam shook his head. “Nah, it’s cool. I got a job and our rent is cheap.”
Max took a gulp of water and crushed ice between his molars. “What job did ya get?”
Cam couldn’t stop the growl in the back of his throat. He had a bachelor’s degree and he was a . . . “Bouncer. At a bar in town.”
Max’s eyes widened, but then his face quickly shuttered, hiding his real feelings. “Bet you squeeze into a black T-shirt and let the tats peek out and all these rednecks scatter, huh?”
Cam laughed. “I just started last week. It’s mostly girls from the community college looking to dance and stuff. I even have this fancy machine I run their IDs through to make sure they aren’t fake.”
“Why the hell didn’t the bars at Bowler have that? Kat used her fake all the time.” Max frowned.
“Until Alec shredded it,” Lea snickered.
Max threw back his head. “Oh man. Apparently Kat and Alec are at her beach house with her family, and Alec is worried her brother is going to drown him in the ocean.”
Lea wrinkled her nose. “Which is stupid because Marc likes Alec. He’s just being paranoid.”
The waitress delivered their food and even the sound of the melamine plates sliding across the table as she announced the orders brought back memories.
He picked at his bun while Max demolished a burger.
In between bites, Max stole a handful of fries off of Lea’s chicken-salad sandwich.
“Seriously?” Lea glared at him. “You have your own.”
“But yours taste better,” Max said around a mouthful of fries.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she grumbled. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”
He grinned. “Maybe I want you to kick my ass. My favorite foreplay.”
Cam groaned. “That’s enough, guys, I’m losing my appetite.”
Neither looked apologetic.
Cam ate his burger while he chatted with Max and Lea about their trip. They planned to head up into Pennsylvania and then Massachusetts. A road trip—just the two of them—since next year was going to be rough. Lea started a teaching job in the fall, and Max would be completing his last semester at Bowler student teaching.
Max picked up the tab, which made Cam bristle a little, but Max assured him it was just to thank him for taking them out in his hometown.
He followed them out of the diner and Lea hugged him before climbing into Max’s truck. Max watched her through the windshield as she buckled her seat belt, then leaned a hand on his hood and turned to Cam. His eyes traveled over Cam’s shoulder to the diner and then squinted at the sparse traffic on the street.
Finally his eyes met Cam’s. “You sure this is what you need to be doing?”
No, he wasn’t sure, but he’d committed now, hadn’t he? “I need to help my mom with the bills. She worked two jobs while I was growing up to keep food on our table and a roof over our heads. What am I gonna do, leave her?”
Max ran his tongue over his teeth. “You could have maybe gotten a job and sent money . . .”
Cam shook his head. “I thought about that and I mentioned it to her but she asked me to come home first and I knew . . . I knew she wanted me here.”
“Parents don’t always know what’s best, you know.”
“I know that.” But that didn’t change his decision.
Max watched him for a minute, then gave a curt nod. He slapped Cam on the shoulder. “All right, man. You need anything, you call me or Alec, all right?”
He wouldn’t. “Sure.”
Max got in his truck, leaned in to give Lea a kiss on her cheek, and then they pulled out onto Main Street.
Cam sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. But if he didn’t help his mom, who would?
He jingled his keys in his pocket and turned to walk toward his truck.
As he walked by the alley beside the restaurant, something flickered out of the corner of his eye.
He turned and spotted her legs first. One foot bent at the knee and braced on the brick wall, the other flat on the ground. Her head was bent, a curtain of hair blocking her face. But he knew those legs. He knew those hands. And he knew that hair, a light brown that held just a glint of strawberry in the sun. He knew by the end of August it’d be lighter and redder and she’d laugh about that time she put lemon juice in it. It’d backfired and turned her hair orange.
The light flickered again but it was something weird and artificial, not like the menthols she had smoked. Back when he knew her.
As she lowered her hand down to her side, he caught sight of the small white cylinder. It was an electronic cigarette. She’d quit.
She raised her head then, like she knew someone was watching her, and he wanted to keep walking, avoid this awkward moment. Avoid those eyes he didn’t think he’d ever see again or ever thought he’d want to see again. But now that his eyes locked on her hazel eyes—the ones he knew began as green on the outsides of her irises and darkened to brown by the time they met her pupils—he couldn’t look away. His boots wouldn’t move.
The small cigarette fell to the ground with a soft click and she straightened, both her feet on the ground.
And that’s when he noticed the wedge shoes. And the black apron. What was she doing here?
“Camilo.”
Other than his mom, she was the only one who used his full name sometimes. He’d heard her say it while laughing. He’d her moan it while he was inside her. He’d heard her sigh it with an eye roll when he made a bad joke. But he’d never heard it the way she said it now, with a little bit of fear and anxiety and . . . longing? He took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Tate.”
He hadn’t spoken her name since that night Trevor called him and told him what she did. The night his future that he’d set out for himself and for her completely changed course.
She’d lost some weight in the four years since he’d last seen her. He’d always loved her curves. She had it all—thighs, ass and tits in abundance. Naked, she was a fucking vision.
Damn it, he wasn’t going there.
But now her face looked thinner, her clothes hung a little loose and he didn’t like this look as much. Not that she probably gave a fuck about his opinion anymore.
She still had her gorgeous hair, pinned up halfway with a bump in front, and smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and on her cheekbones. And she still wore her makeup exactly the same—thickly mascaraed eyelashes, heavy eyeliner that stretched to a point on the outer corners of her eyes, like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn.
She was still beautiful. And she still took his breath away.
And his heart felt like it was breaking all over again.
And he hated her even more for that.
MEGAN ERICKSON grew up in a family that averages 5’5” on a good day and started writing to create characters who could reach the top kitchen shelf.
She’s got a couple of tattoos, has a thing for gladiators and has been called a crazy cat lady. After working as a journalist for years, she decided she liked creating her own endings better and switched back to fiction.
She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kids and two cats. And no, she still can’t reach the stupid top shelf.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from
Make It Last
copyright © 2015 by Megan Erickson.
MAKE IT RIGHT.
Copyright © 2014 by Megan Erickson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition SEPTEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780062353498
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062353511
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