Camden by Shey Stahl

 

Forgiveness doesn’t have to be exhausting.

That’s what Shade taught me. It can be simple. An “I fucked up” and “Forgive me,” because we’re all human. We make mistakes. We make them again and again until we learn. And when you’re young and dumb, you make them a lot.

Do you see that guy in the truck? The one staring out the windshield wondering if he’s making a mistake?

He’s not. He wants the girl, and the kid, but are they rushing into it?

You’re probably going to say yes, aren’t you?

She’s eighteen. Fucking eighteen.

What was I thinking?

I wasn’t.

I punch the steering wheel, unable to process my emotions, or rather, anger. I’ve never been good at that. I internalize everything until I blow up. Let me tell you this much. It’s rising. It’s not there yet, but I can’t even tell you how close to the edge I am now.

When I leave River’s house, I intend on heading home because it’s been months since I’ve slept in my own bed, but I have one thing to deal with. Maverick. I’ve never told Maverick how I feel about River, and he certainly doesn’t know about the baby or that we’ve been together, but shit man, he knows she’s off fucking limits.

My blood rages in my veins, adrenaline spiking. Breathing heavily, I look down at my phone. I call him the second I’m out of the gate of River’s house and turning onto the main road. I have a feeling I know where he’s at because Shade’s at Glen Helen today and anywhere Shade is, Maverick wants to be.

He answers on the first ring.

“Where you at?”

I can hear bikes in the background revving. “Glen Helen,” he yells over the sounds. “You wanna come out?”

“Yeah. Be there soon.”

Do you know what I’m going to do?

That’s funny if you do, because even I don’t know at this point.

 

In the distance, I can hear the bikes revving over jumps. While I spent a good amount of time out here with Tiller and Shade over the years, I’m not paying attention too much. I stroll past fans who are out here watching the practice runs and the track personnel trying to get my attention. I have a mission and it involves one person.

Did you know I broke my arm here when I was ten? I did. Tiller told me to try jumping the triple and I didn’t land it. My arm braced the fall but I still face planted. Broke it in two spots. The only thing I remember about that night was meeting Maverick. He helped me up, got my bike off the track and then sent me on my way. He was thirteen at the time and I looked up to him.

He’s twenty-six now and still made a move on River?

That doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t even like the age difference between River and me, let alone the one between them. I find him sitting on his bike near the Wall of Fame, smiling.

“Hey man, how was India?” I draw in a quick breath and stand before him. He shuts his bike off and smiles, hanging his helmet on his handlebars. “You bring your bike?”

I did, not that I want to ride with him. That has nothing to do with this. Placing one hand on the handlebars and the other on his seat, I lean into him, my eyes cold as ice. “What happened with you and River?”

I draw back. I want to see his reaction.

Do you see the way the color drains from his face?

Maverick’s face goes completely blank, masking any emotions he doesn’t want me seeing. “What are you talking about?”

“What happened with you and River?” I repeat.

Shade steps toward us, eyeing Maverick, then me. I hadn’t realized he approached us. “What’s going on?”

I shrug, a sly smile playing on my lips. I stare at Maverick. “Just a conversation.” Then I shove him, knocking him off his bike. “Answer me.”

Are you disappointed I didn’t hit him?

That makes two of us.

Do you notice he stays on the ground?

I do.

He scrambles out from under the bike and to his feet. “What the fuck man?”

“What were you doing making a move on her?”

“Who?” Shade asks, looking between the two of us. “What are you fools all upset about?”

We ignore him.

“What do you care?” his eyes slide to Shade and then me. Notice the way he leaves her name out of it? Do you notice the way I do?

It’s for a reason.

My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding against each other. “You know I care. She’s—” I stop, because I know who’s standing here and I can’t give this away.

“She’s what?” he prompts. “How long do you think a girl like her is gonna want to stay a secret?”

I blow him off, stepping toward him, my feet shifting in the dirt and gravel beneath me. “How could you do that?” I whisper-shout. “You’re a real piece of shit. I always knew you were an asshole but I never thought you’d cross the line with her.”

“Come on, man.” Maverick holds up his hands, rolling his eyes. “I saw an opportunity. You would have done the same thing.”

No, I wouldn’t have. I’m not like that. I don’t take advantage of people. But didn’t I with River?

I fist my hands in his jersey. I want to hit him. I do. I crave it. The relief. But… I’m afraid that if I hit him, I won’t stop. It’s a product of being abused as a kid. I’ve hit walls, doors, windows… but never another person. I can’t do it. I won’t be Jerad. I won’t. My fear of turning into my father stops me, even though my anger wants to inflict pain. So I wait. I stare at him and I try to push through it. Every muscle in my body begs to release it, but I don’t. I won’t. Not like this. I grip his jersey harder, my knuckles turning white. “I should beat the shit out of you right now.”

He smirks, because he knows me. “But you won’t.”

My hands shake. I grip harder, my jaw tightening. “Because you’re not worth it,” I snap, shoving him back. “Stay away from her.”

And then I walk away, as if nothing happened.

Shade follows me, his voice even, but I can tell he’s curious. “Something you wanna tell me, Cam-Man?”

I look at him, shake my head, and leave.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want the big brother talks or anything. I want to be alone, something that never quite happens for me. Even when I disappear from Pasadena, I’m usually with Roan. Now, I need to be alone and process this.

 

I live about ten miles from River, but on the same road in the hills of Pasadena. Maybe it’s by design, never wanting to be far from her, but I’m not sure. Maybe that’s why I disappear so often. I can’t clear my head here.

I know I haven’t mentioned my place much, but I love it. And I bought it myself. Without the help of my father who claims I’m going to fuck all this “bike shit” up someday and come running back home. I’ve been racing since I was eleven and haven’t needed his help and never will.

My house, it’s no Sawyer mansion, but it’s good for me and a place I can have a family someday. Okay, soon, I suppose. Fuck, that’s crazy to think of. I’m the same age my dad was when he knocked my mom up. Am I following in his footsteps?

No. Never. I will never ever be like that man.

Speaking of Jerad Rivera, he’s standing on my doorstep holding a box from Yamaha.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I ask myself, my heart rate rising every second. I’ve had enough drama for one day.

Scowling in his direction, I pull my truck around the front of the covered drive and stop. I’m slow to get out because—I’m sure you can guess—I don’t like dealing with him.

All the wins mean nothing to him. Regardless of what I do, or the fact that I’ve never asked him for anything since that first motocross championship win, he doesn’t approve of my life and anyone in it. He wants to brag to his friends that I’m a lawyer or doctor, not a freestyle motocross racer.

I separate myself from the truck and stand in front of him.

Silence swallows the space between us for a moment. Me and this man, we have absolutely nothing in common. We don’t talk much. Only when needed, because what comes next, that’s the shit that makes me want be anywhere but next to him.

“What are you doing here?”

His hard jawline twitches. “You need to change your address,” he grumbles and hands me a box of what looks to be jerseys from Yamaha. Why the fuck would they be sending me more jerseys? I don’t take the box.

Fuck. I forgot to do that when I signed the contracts with Ophelia the other day. I raise an eyebrow as he sets the box on the stone path. “So, you thought you’d drop it off?”

His eyes lift to mine and there’s something there I haven’t seen before. An emotion he keeps hidden deep within. Does he care? No, no. It’s not that. He probably lost a case and it’s weighing heavy on his mind. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says, his voice sharp and defined. There’s no mistaking Jerad is in charge. Of conversations, his life, marriage, the courtroom, pretty much everywhere he goes. What he’s not in charge of any longer?

Me.

And that, that fucking pisses him off more than anything.

“Not long enough,” I mumble, wishing he’d leave. When I was eleven, I pretended my dad died. He went away on a business trip and I woke up that morning and told myself he died. I went the whole day going through the emotions of losing him like I lost my mom. How’d it feel? I never stopped smiling that day. Until he came back from his trip and I realized his pretend death didn’t come true.

In front of me, Jerad’s brow furrows as he watches me loosen the tie-downs on my bike in the back of my truck. “When are you going to learn this shit is a hobby?”

A sharp bark of laughter rolls through me and I turn, leaning into my truck as I bury my hands in my pockets. “Should I have went to college, Dad?”

“It would have been a better stable option.”

Anger stirs inside me. “Why? So I can be just like you?”

He glares. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I exhale, lifting my own brow and looking sideways at him. “I think you know.” His jaw flexes and I smile. “You want to hit me, don’t you?”

“You deserve to be, talking like that. That’s your problem, you never learn. You’re an entitled smart-ass little shit who thinks the world revolves around him. I gave you everything and all you’ve ever gave me was aggravation and bullshit.”

I laugh. In his goddamn face. “You gave me everything? Are you that blind? You gave me some clothes and a place to sleep, but you didn’t give me anything that holds value. You weren’t a parent. You were a dictator.”

He stares at me, as if he can’t believe I would say those things to him. His eyes flare with aggression, hatred, and disbelief that I’m standing up to him. Nobody does.

But I do, because I can’t fucking stand this guy. He can die and I wouldn’t attend his funeral. I know that’s harsh, but it’s the cold hard truth.

“You spent my whole life reminding me that you never wanted me. Guess what? Now I don’t want you. You’re free, Jared. Now get the fuck off my property.”

You want to know the best part?

He does. Without another word. Strangest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Inside my house, not much has changed. It’s clean at least. I hired a maid about a year ago to come for me because there’s no way I can keep a five-thousand-square-foot house clean by myself.

After the day I’ve had, I have two things I want to do—okay, three, but two can happen and one probably won’t for a while. I bet I don’t even have to say what the third is. But I start by changing out of my clothes and into a pair of shorts. I grab a beer from the fridge and take my phone out to the back patio area intending on spending the next few hours in the hot tub. My backyard is pretty cool. It’s the reason I bought the house. It’s like something out of a rain forest, but in California. Again, not as fancy as the Sawyer mansion with its rock waterfall and a rope swing off the roof or anything, but it’s secluded in the trees and I don’t have to worry about people bothering me.

That’s when I remember I need to change my address. I send a quick text to Scarlet.

Me: Change my fucking address with Yamaha.

Scarlet: Hello to you too, ya moody bitch.

I smile and set my phone on the pool deck. It buzzes again.

Scarlet: Have you seen River?

I don’t reply. No way I want to get into that with her.

Scarlet: Don’t ignore me or I won’t change your address.

I also know if I don’t text Scarlet back, she won’t quit. And if I turn my phone off, she will stop by.

Me: I saw her today. Stop texting me. I’m with a girl.

It’s a lie, but at least I know she’ll leave me alone.

Scarlet: Wrap it up. ☺

I’m pretty sure that was an intentional dig, but I’m going to let that go. Leaning my head back against the pool deck, I stare up at the fading blue sky. It’s scattered with pink and purple clouds and reminds me of the flush in River’s cheeks today.

“Boy, are you in some shit or what?”

Startled, I whip my head around to see Shade standing next to me, smiling, a beer in his hand that he’s gotten from my fridge. “How’d you get in?”

He peels off his shirt and gets in the hot tub with me. “Jumped the fence.”

I smile, shaking my head. I think back to the first time I met him. Days after I met Tiller, I was fascinated by the guy covered in ink and hidden behind dark shades. He lives up to his name, always searching for the shadows of his lifestyle, but he’s the most revered of the brothers. His face and name are plastered everywhere. I thought he’d be a jerk to me, but instead he treated me like I was his little brother without a second thought.

Taking a drink of his beer, Shade sets it down next to him on the ledge. I stare at the sky again when he laughs under his breath, lifting his sunglasses. “Does Tiller know?”

That gets my attention. My heart drums louder in my ears. “What do you think?”

A low laughter rumbles his chest. “Considering you’re still alive, I’m going with no.” Running a hand through his hair, he sighs. “Cam-Man, you know where this is heading, don’t you?”

I nod. I don’t want to say it out loud. Hell, I didn’t even want to admit I slept with her, let alone I got her pregnant.

I shift my eyes to his and he smiles, like he knows, like he understands me. “You love her, don’t you?”

Pinching my bottom lip with thumb and index finger, I contemplate answering him. Do I want to? No, I don’t, because outside of telling River, I haven’t admitted this to anyone. Not even Roan. He knows, but I didn’t have to say it. But this is Shade. The brother that taught me that talent will only take you so far. Your character takes you the rest of the way. And lying to him has never been the answer. Swallowing over the insanely large lump in my throat, I nod. “I’ve always loved her.”

His lips quirk into a smirk, a slow shake to his head. “What are you guys going to do?”

“I don’t know. Not tell Tiller,” I tease, feeling like I might throw up.

And I don’t. Have a clue that is. I have so many races lined up this year that I knew I wasn’t going to be around much. Which is why I distanced myself from River.

“While I agree with not telling Tiller, because he’d kill you, you’re gonna have to at some point.”

I glare at Shade. “What the fuck am I going to say?”

“I don’t know.”

I snort, reaching for my beer. “You’re a lot of help.”

“I never said I was help. I was just curious what your plan is.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Maybe you should draw a map.”

I laugh. “Ophelia said they have that goddamn thing on their bedroom wall.”

Shade smiles. “Someday Tiller’s gonna see you’re good for her. Might not happen right away, could be when he’s sixty, but he’ll realize it.”

“Before or after he kills me?”

“Hmmm.” He draws out, sliding his sunglasses back down over his eyes. “That’s a tough call.”

“You’re telling me.”

And then he sighs, a smile quirking his lips. “I’m gonna tell you something Uncle Ricky told me once.” He pauses until I look at him, but I have no clue if he’s actually looking at me with his sunglasses on. “Be all in or get out. There’s no room for half-assing.”

Scratching the back of my head, I think about what he’s talking about, and have no clue. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

I will?