Camden by Shey Stahl

 

 

My grandfather, Doug Johnson, he’s the motocross commissioner for FIM, the International Motorcycling Federation. I have very few interactions with the guy, but I’m aware of him and the role he plays in my life.

My mom, Amberly, director of merchandising for Jett Industries and S3. She controls merchandise and every aspect of how I present myself on social media.

My dad, Tiller Sawyer, Wild Cat, he’s the sometimes-psychotic X Games Moto X Freestyle Champion, X-Fighters World Tour Champion, Baja 1000 winner, and countless other titles. He… well, I don’t know what role he plays, other than the villain most days.

My point? My family is heavily involved in the motocross world, and freestyle. They have a reputation. Let’s not even dive into the inadequacy I feel around them just yet, or the fact that I’ve let them down; there’s more to this.

My career.

Everything I’ve been working for is over. I can’t finish out the season. I’m sidelined until further notice.

Until I have the baby. And then what?

I have no fucking clue.

That being said, the media could not find out about this. My dad could not find out Camden’s the father of this kid, and my sponsors, well, I’m sure what to do about that one. I have to keep this quiet as long as I can. I ruined everything over this, and for what?

Maybe keeping the baby isn’t the right thing to do. What kind of life can I provide for him? Him? Why am I assuming it’s a him?

Those are where my thoughts are. I’m lost. I don’t know if I’m depressed, stressed, or just a hot mess. Probably all of the above.

Willa stands before me. “We need to talk.”

Shit. I blow out an exaggerated breath and look up at her. “Did you at least bring me coffee?”

“Nope.” She hands me a water bottle. “You’re pregnant. No more coffee for you.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I grumble, flipping through the channels on the television I’ve been staring at the last hour. To my left, I notice my mom and Ophelia coming into the family room. “Is this an intervention?”

“No.” Willa sits next to me. “It’s an action-plan session.”

“Action plan? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“You don’t have a choice.” You’re probably wondering who the fuck Willa is since I’ve never mentioned her before. Willa is my uncle Ricky’s wife. Okay, so Ricky is my dad’s uncle and I have no idea what that makes him to me. Great uncle? I’ve always called him Uncle Ricky and Willa has always been Aunt Willa. They’re the closest thing I have to grandparents—that I like—but they’ve always been aunt and uncle to me. Now Willa, she’s the fucking boss. She’s in charge of everything the Wives do and if you piss her off, be ready for the consequences.

Tiller is constantly on her shit list. Roan spends a good amount of time there too.

My stomach rolls with the smell of coffee in the air. I want some, but everything, and I do mean everything is making me nauseous. I threw up water for Christ’s sake. Water!

Beside me, Mom hands me a pill bottle and stares at me, defeated, like she knows, like she understands. Because there’s some pain even your mother can’t fix. “These are your prenatal vitamins and I made you an appointment for Tuesday with an OB doctor.”

Okay, so she’s more on top of this than I am. I’m still in shock the blood test came back as pregnant. I’ve counted back to the day Camden and I were together. It’s been thirty-six days. I hadn’t even realized I missed my period because I’ve never been regular, product of low body fat and how much I work out to muscle around a dirt bike. So, was I surprised to find out I was pregnant?

Fuck yeah, I was. If you were in the room with me, you probably would have laughed at my expression of complete shock. I don’t think I’d been that surprised since my mom told me about sex—after I’d already witnessed Shade and Scarlet fucking in the hot tub—and I realized that boys had something more than girls did.

“We have some shit to deal with here,” Ophelia says, with an armful of paperwork. I’m assuming they’re contracts. Ones I’m in breach of now.

Fuck, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?

Staring at my phone, I look to see if Camden had replied to my text I sent him last night. He hasn’t.

Flipping my phone over in my lap, I draw in a deep breath, almost too nervous to speak. I take the pills my mom gave me, a lump rising in my throat. Staring at the water bottle in hand, I let out a heavy breath. “I know. I fucked everything up.”

Ophelia takes a drink of her coffee, I contemplate stealing it, and then she regards me with her brows bunched together. Tucking her black locks behind her ear, she clears her throat. “We can use your leg injury to your advantage. You’re not in breach of your contract with an injury. Nobody has to know about the baby right now.”

My problem here?

I signed a contract that said I wouldn’t get pregnant. Believe it or not. For the next year while I competed on the Mayhem Tour with my endorsement deal with Deranged, a clothing company that designs sunglasses. Not sure why they didn’t want me to get knocked up during the contract, but at the time I had absolutely no intention of having a baby.

Look at these girls around me, all trying to help me through this, just like the time I started my period at thirteen. If you could have been in the bathroom that day, while they attempted to help me put in a tampon and Aunt Scarlet lit a candle because she felt like they were “deflowering” me, you would have known from then on, they’d do anything to protect me.

And they will, including lying to sponsors.

I stare at them, my words shaking more than I want them too. “What happens if they find out I got pregnant?”

Ophelia thumbs through the contract. “That’s a portion I had them change. It’s basically a void in the contract that ends in four months. So, we ride out the rest of the injury. You’re out of competition for the next six months with the leg, then PT. They shouldn’t find out.”

Tiller comes into the room, drinking a bottle of water, no shirt on, board shorts hanging down low, and sweating profusely. He stands beside Scarlet and wipes his sweaty abs on her face. “How’s that for rain, Northwest?”

Excuse Aunt Scarlet for a moment. She’s busy trying to kill my dad. They’ve been at it for years. Apparently is started with a cactus spine in her ass and her throwing a lawn chair at his face. Last week he put a sippy cup of milk under her seat.

The worst part. She still hasn’t found it. It’s July in Southern California. I can’t imagine what that’s going to smell like soon.

Ophelia and Willa continue to go over the contracts with me and what we’re going to tell the media. “River ‘Savage’ Sawyer is withdrawing from competition for the reminder of the season due to a leg injury sustained at the Gateway of India.”

At least that’s the story the media is getting. They don’t need to know that “Savage” Sawyer got knocked up by the Golden Boy of freestyle. And that’s the story my dad is going to get as well. He’s also sitting next to me now, still half-dressed and looking for some truth I don’t want to give him.

“Talk to me,” he says, bumping his shoulder against mine.

I look over at him as the Wives leave the room, Mom giving him the face. The one that screams don’t be mean. I don’t know why she tries that. It never words. It’s like telling Wyatt to be nice and knowing she won’t be.

Drawing in a heavy breath, I shake my head. “I don’t want to.”

He takes my crutches and throws them across the room. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Was that necessary?”

“Very much so.”

I glare at him. “Highly doubtful.”

He glares right back. “Are you lying to me? Do you know who the father is?”

“I told you,” I’m quick to say. “I don’t know. One-night stand.”

Tiller’s jaw clenches and then he blows out a breath as he runs a hand over his face. His brow bends and twists. “And you didn’t use protection?”

“I did, but it didn’t work.”

He nods, once, his eyes straight ahead. I think maybe he’s going to leave it alone, but he rolls his head to look over at me, his eyes cold as ice. “Is there something going on between you and Camden?”

My heart stops. I’m not even joking; I feel it jolt back to life as I cough and clear my throat. “Why would you think that?”

“Because he seemed awfully concerned after your accident.”

I can’t breathe. I think my heart and my lungs have stopped working all together. I don’t know what to say to him, or how to say it to him. Camden’s right. Tiller won’t approve. I’ve had one boyfriend my entire life. And it was for like six hours at the Hangtown Motocross Classic. Once Tiller found out, the kid was out of the race and I never saw him again. He could be dead for all I know.

I’m kidding. He lives in Tennessee, but still, you get my point. River Sawyer, she’s off-limits to everyone as far as Tiller is concerned. And I’m aware I’ve started to refer to myself in the third person, but I’m not sure what else to do. There’s a lack of oxygen going to my brain because Tiller is still fucking staring at me like he’s trying to decode my lies.

“Tiller!” Amberly yells from the kitchen. “I thought I told you to watch Wyatt? She’s outside trying to catch that damn coyote again.”

Tiller groans and leans forward. “Let her catch it. It’s probably nicer than she is.”

Truth.

“Can you help me upstairs?” I ask Scarlet when she brings me tacos.

“Sure,” she says, looking around the room for my crutches. She notices them next to the fireplace. “Fucking Tiller. Why is he such a dick?”

That seems to be the word of the day. Or decade.

“Have you seen Camden today?” I ask her when dad’s out of sight and she helps me stand.

“No, not yet.” She smiles. “But that’s probably because he’s in Placerville with Roan today.”

That’s why he didn’t answer my call this morning. Or messages. He never checks his phone and I forgot he had a training session scheduled. Scarlet hovers in my room, adjusting pillows behind my back and then hands me a trash can. “Still sick?”

I eye the bag and already feel nauseous. “I don’t see how I can throw up anymore.”

She hands me my phone. “Take a nap. Maybe you’ll feel better with some sleep.”

While I have every intention of taking a nap, my phone rings with a FaceTime call and I flip it over to see Gray’s calling me. “Hey,” I say as soon as I answer it and see her face. I can’t tell for sure but she looks like she’s in her motor home, still in her racing suit. “Look at you, sexy.”

She grins. “How’s my girl?”

“Uhhh.” I pause. “Broken.”

“I heard.” Her eyes soften. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the good drugs.”

Her brows raise. “Why the hell not?”

My cheeks flush and my stomach rolls. I prop the phone up on my lap. “I’m… pregnant.”

The words hang in the silence between us and she gapes at me. “Fuuuck, are you serious? You’re joking with me, right?”

“I wish I was.” My stomach tightens. Please don’t puke.

Gray’s eyes remain wide. “Are you keeping it?”

“I… don’t know. I think so, but I also don’t know what any of this means.” I relax into the pillow. “What would you do?”

“Hell if I know.” She lets out a breathy laugh; her auburn hair, tied up in a messy bun, flops around as she scratches her head. “My parents would fucking murder me, and when I was dead, my grandpa would dig my dead body up and murder me all over again.”

I laugh lightly. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“True, they wouldn’t, but I can’t imagine they’d be happy about it.” Her eyes become distanced, as if she’s thinking about it. “Daxel would freak the fuck out.”

My heart starts to beat faster again and the lump begins to rise. “I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

“What did Camden say?”

My cheeks rise with a smile. “How do you know it’s his?”

“Really?” She eyes me. “I know you better than that. Also, Jonah said he hasn’t seen you in months.”

I avoid eye contact. Believe it or not, I’ve only slept with Jonah and Camden. I think maybe Camden has the impression I’ve fucked around a lot, but I haven’t. And Gray knows that. “Camden really didn’t say much.”

Grays snorts. “Please tell me he didn’t act like a bitch and say it wasn’t his.”

“He didn’t. He knew right away.” I wave my hand, wanting to talk about anything but this. “How was the race? I didn’t catch the end but you were in second the last time I saw.”

Gray’s smile takes over and she looks so much like her grandpa Jameson in that moment. “First, baby.”

“Damn girl, you’re on fire.”

Gray and I continue to talk for the next hour, but as I hang up with her, I can’t help but think about her words. Am I keeping the baby? It’s starting to dawn on me that I do have a choice, I just don’t know which one to make.

But then I think, what kind of life can I provide a baby at eighteen?

 

I don’t hear from Camden for three days. Which is really nothing new. The guy has obligations, and while I understand it, it doesn’t stop the rejection. I’m young and I take things like a guy not calling personal.

So, imagine my surprise when he shows up at my house and stands in the driveway, waiting.

Do you see him there? Messy hair, scruffy jaw I want between my legs and T-shirt clinging perfectly to his sculpted biceps? It’s drool worthy, but I remain hard and unfazed. I drop my eyes to the stone-paved driveway, afraid of getting my crutches stuck in the cracks. It’s why I have a big old strawberry-colored scab on my left elbow today.

“Need some help?” he asks, knowing with a girl like me, he can’t just take my crutches away without asking. I’ll nut punch him over my own independence.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to crutch my way out into the driveway.

“I’m here because I want to be.” His stance shifts and he takes a step toward me, opening the passenger door in the process. “You could have told me you had an appointment.”

“How did you find out?” He smiles. “Fucking Scarlet.”

Scarlet said she was taking me so why is… oh, right. She tricked me. Turning my head, I glare at the house, even though I know she’s not in there. Everyone is in LA today for the grand opening of S3’s new apparel store. I smile to myself, thinking of them forcing my dad to sign autographs for an afternoon. I bet he’s fucking miserable.

We’re standing face-to-face now, sharing body heat and the life inside me. Tenderly, he reaches out and touches my flushed cheek. “I’ll take you,” he whispers, his words as soft as his eyes peering down at me.

I stare up at him, blinking slowly as my vulnerability shines like the sun beating down on us. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to come.”

“You need to stop assuming you know what I want.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, his words sending a shiver down my spine. “We have to communicate.”

I nod, not knowing what else to do. “I haven’t heard from you in three days.”

“I’ll do better,” he assures me, helping me into his truck.

I wish I could believe him.

The drive into the doctor’s office, we don’t say much. He tells me about him and Roan in Placerville and how he’s getting nervous for Erzberg.

We’re in the waiting room when I look over at him. “Are you nervous to compete?”

He’s flipping through a magazine beside him but leans into my shoulder, his eyes on the pages in front of him. “Erzberg?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

A soft chuckle rolls through him. “Terrified.”

His eyes drift to mine and we stare, both of us in over our heads. “Are you scared?”

“I don’t know. What’s taking this fucking doctor so long?” In truth, I am. I’m absolutely terrified, like him. I don’t know how I’m going to do any of this. I still live with my parents; and my career, who’s gonna take an eighteen-year-old single mom seriously and say, yeah, we want her supporting our brand? We want the young and hungry badass girls looking up to her.

News flash, they’re not going to want them looking up to me any longer.

The appointment is pretty much what you’d think. Pregnancy test to confirm, yes, pregnant, and an ultrasound to check for a heartbeat.

“It might be too early,” the doctor tells us, as the two kids waiting on the life-changing moment cling to one another. Do you see us there? It’s like a damn country song: two kids, weak in the knees, knowing in the next minute, their lives have changed. Because it does. Every single ounce of hesitation I’ve ever had about this baby, or what happens next, halts.

A fast steady flickering appears on the screen. A heartbeat. My heart drops to my stomach like an anchor.

“There’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor says.

Camden runs his hands over his face and gasps. “Holy shit.”

And… I’m crying again. Fuck this kid. I panic at my thoughts and touch my hand to my stomach. “I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean it.”

Camden’s eyes find mine. “What?”

“Nothing.” I stare at the screen.

The technician gives me a photograph of the baby that looks like a blob. Pamphlets on pregnancy and more prenatal vitamins, then he sends us on our way.

Camden drives out to the beach and parks away from everyone else. That’s when the silence between us breaks.

I’m staring at the picture in disbelief. “Fuck.”

He holds my hand, tightly, shifting to turn toward me in the seat. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, I don’t say anything. His body heat scolds me and my heart races. After a few seconds, I find my voice. “I think so. This is crazy.” I hold up the picture. “There’s like an actual baby in there.”

He laughs, his smile adorable.

I search his eyes, hoping this baby has them. I love the depths of them. The green, the spark, the innocence they still hold. “This isn’t how I saw this going.”

His brow furrows and his lips part. “What do you mean?”

“I never pictured myself having a kid.”

He’s silent, unmoving, maybe even not breathing. And then he clears his throat, thinking about what I just said. My stomach does a flip when he barely raises those long lashes. “Me either.”

“It’s scary.”

His hand holding mine tightens. “We can do it.”

“You think?”

He nods. “Whatever you want to do I support you.”

My eyes drop to the picture. I think about my birth mom in that moment. She didn’t expect to get pregnant with me, but regardless, she made the decision to keep me. She gave me a chance in this world. My fingertips run over the edges. “I wonder if this is how she felt?”

“Who?”

“My mom.”

Shifting, he lets go of my hand and reaches for his water bottle in the cup holder. “Amberly?”

“No, my birth mom when she found out she was pregnant with me.” I kind of laugh. “Let’s be honest, it’s not like I was planned. Nobody looks at Tiller and says, let’s have a baby together.”

Camden laughs. “Well, Amberly did.”

“Yeah, look how that turned out,” I tease. “Wyatt’s a monster.”

“She took a rock to my truck the other day and wrote fuck you on the tailgate.”

Are you shocked? Don’t be. It’s Wyatt we’re talking about. “I’m not surprised.” Silence lingers again and tears surface. And then I admit to him what I’ve been trying to bury deep down. “I wanna keep it.”

Is it wrong of me to want that?

Camden’s smile deepens and he too looks at the photograph of the life we’ve made. “Me too.” He leans in and kisses me then, and while I kiss him back, I’m not at all sure what to make of what just happened. But I do know my hormones are going crazy and I can’t stop myself when I grab his face, securing it to mine.

His mouth covers mine with a hunger that doesn’t hold back. He never does, and it always sends an intoxicating sensation through my body I crave long after his mouth parts from mine. I can’t get enough of him. We fight for room in the truck but’s it’s not working with my cast.

I pant, pulling back. “So. my hormones are going crazy so could we—”

With flushed cheeks and breathing heavy, he starts the truck. “Fuck yes.”

 

Do you see us there? The way he can’t get enough? That’s what a month without any will do to you, and those hormones going crazy.

You might be wondering how do I know he can’t get enough?

There’s a candle next to his bed, one he lit because he said the lights in his room didn’t work. He might be lying, or he’s being romantic. I don’t care either way because the way the candle provides an orange glow in the room, the reflections of light in his hair as he hovers over me, it’s worth it.

Look at the way his hands are splayed over my hips and the way he regards me, settling between my legs on his bed. That’s a man who can’t get enough.

Savoring every touch and the warm sensations of his body against mine, I revel in every single minute of it. It’s not rushed like our first time, eh, fourth time? No… fifth? Hell, I don’t care. All I care about it that he’s above me, loving me, and kissing my forehead tenderly.

He lifts his face, his features holding an emotion I can’t decipher. Opening his mouth, like he wants to say something, he pauses, his brow twisting. Without finishing his words, he presses his lips to mine, giving me his kiss. When the tip of his tongue glides over the seam of mine, I open to him. His lips part over mine and I kiss him deeper, giving myself to him. I will always give myself to him. I have to. Now more than ever. Because of the life we’ve created.

I know then, I’m in. To his love, to whatever life throws at us, as long as I have him. I still have my doubts, I do, but something about today has given me hope.

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” he whispers against my lips, knowing I need to hear it.

I touch the side of his face. “I haven’t either,” I assure him, knowing he needs to hear it too. Pain shoots through my leg when Camden shifts, his erection at my center. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to spread my legs further I think,” I tell him, raising up on my elbows.

He grins. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

I shove my hand into his face, playfully. “Stop it and hand me that pillow.”

Camden’s bed is a sea of pillows and fluffy blankets. I have no idea how he sleeps anywhere but here. I also fully intend on spending the night here. He better not object to it because I’m dying to sleep in his bed. If you can believe it, I never have in the three years he’s lived here.

But back to the moment. You’re probably wondering if we’re having sex yet.

Getting there.

Careful of my leg, Camden props it up on a pillow and then grins down at me. “Good?”

“Perfect.” I reach forward and grasp his shoulders. “Now come fuck me.”

He doesn’t even wait for me to finish before he’s pushing inside me with a low growl from deep within. “I’m assuming no condom is okay?” he asks, his words caught in the curve of my neck.

I moan, threading my hands in his hair, staring up at the ceiling. “Yes.”

We both gasp when he’s in, breathing escaping me entirely, but all I can do is inhale a much-needed breath. Camden doesn’t move right away; when he does, it’s slow as if he’s wanting this to last. Giving me his weight, his lips find mine when he begins to move a little faster, but still, he’s not rushing. It may be torture, but it’s the sweetest agony and everything I need from him to reassure me.

Raising up on his hands, he angles his hips and smirks. “You like that?”

Dryness coats my throat, my words seizing in my mouth. I can’t respond as heat begins to build within and I’m gasping and whimpering.

“Come for me, Riv,” he begs in a low raspy voice that makes me shiver, rattles my bones. “I want to see you come on my dick.”

Oh Jesus. I go crazy when Camden talks like this because he’s so greedy with his words and dirty ones are rare for him. He’s respectful and while I dig that, I crave these ones like the coffee I can’t have any longer. He’s begging for me to give in and give him what I’ve never given anyone else.

It’s not his movements that do it—though they’re enough—it’s that voice and those words. Oh, and the position of his dick that I’m desperately grinding against. My body arches off the mattress an inch, curving around him, my hips angling just enough that nothing remains of my control. I’m gone completely.

Camden’s groan is low as if this sight is too much for him to bare. Hell, even his arms holding him up buckle. “That’s it, fuck… so sexy,” he pants. “You’re so goddamn beautiful when you come.”

His weight settles into me more and he grunts with each thrust, touching his forehead to mine. Words fall from his lips, but I can’t hear them, all I focus on is the pleasure that shoots through me and blinds me. Slamming his hips into mine even harder, I rock myself into his cock, his bed creaking with our steady movements.

With rapt attention, I watch as his head drops forward, his teeth sinking into his lower lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, my orgasm surfacing, my legs shaking. Warm burst of waves rush throughout my body as I come for him a second time.

His thrusts come a little faster and I know what’s coming. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving, every muscle tensed as he hovers above me. He looks at me, a quick glance, then his eyes dip low to my tits bouncing with every move. Please don’t touch them, I beg internally. They hurt so bad, but this doesn’t. This, him filling me over and over again, it’s everything.

He slams into me two more times, his eyes squeezing shut. I angle my hips so that he can plunge deeper inside me. “God, you’re so hot when you come,” I whisper, when I know he’s about to release.

A smile curves his lips, a quick gruff laugh between pants but it doesn’t stop him. When he moans, it vibrates through my entire body, his cock pulsing, swelling and pumping as he fills me with his release.

Slumping forward, but still supported by his shaking arms, his mouth finds my ear. “I love you,” he says, gasping for a breath.

An influx of emotions rush through me, contentment, love, fear, they all flood through me when it’s over. “I love you too,” I tell him, tears burning my eyes. And then I sob into his chest like a goddamn emotional girl.

“Riv….” He sighs, rolling to the side and then carefully moving me so I’m on my side too, facing him. He catches my tears with his thumb. “What’s wrong?” His touch is slow and tentative at first, mirroring his slow breathing. A gentle kiss follows before he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. His hold becomes a little tighter when a soft sigh escapes him, tickling my skin. It’s exactly what I want.

We stare at one another. There is no sound in the house. Nothing. It’s as if the world has stopped and it’s just us.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again when I don’t answer him.

“I’m… scared.”

He stares at me for a moment as if contemplating how he wants to answer the question. Rubbing his thumb across his lower lip, he shakes his head and tucks me into his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I know. Me too. But we’re gonna do this. Our way. You and me.”

I want to believe him. I do, but I’m terrified.