Page 19 of Yard Sale

“Pinecone,” he says again, rolling the word around on his tongue. “I can dig it. Have you thought of actual names?”

“I like unisex names,” I say, but then I realize that he has a say now, too. I’m not used to having to share these kinds of decisions. “I mean, if you’re okay with that. Do you have any ideas?”

“Considering the fact that I found out about two hours ago?” He chuckles. “Not a one. But I’ll think on it.”

He finally rolls off me, his semi-hard length sliding from my body, and I feel his absence like a missing limb. I don’t like what that means. I don’t want to need anyone, especially not so soon. I consider myself to be a realist. I know the odds are stacked against us. And the fact that I’m tied to him for the foreseeable future makes it an even trickier situation. I don’t want to do something that will negatively affect this little pinecone’s life.

“Your parents must think I’m such a fucking punk.” He sighs, sliding his hands through his dark blond hair.

“Well…” I trail off, not knowing how to tell him that they think Tucker is the father.

“What?” Cam asks, rolling on his side to face me. I pull the sheet over me and roll toward him.

“They don’t really…know you exist?” It comes out sheepish, like a question more than a statement.

“What do you mean?” His nostrils flare, probably having an inkling to where this is going.

“They think Tucker is my boyfriend, so, naturally…”

“Oh, yeah, naturally,” Cam says, every word packed with sarcasm.

“Don’t,” I warn. I don’t want this to turn into a Tucker-bashing session. “He doesn’t want to take your place, Cam. It was his idea to come clean to our families after the holidays.”

He reels in his temper, blowing out a breath.

“I just hate that I didn’t know. You didn’t have to do this alone, Mollie.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll always regret not telling you. But, since you’re here, and you know now,” I start, taking a fortifying breath, “what do you think of telling them tomorrow night at dinner?”

Hopeful blue eyes lock onto mine. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say, and I am sure. “The sooner, the better, right?”

“I concur. And the sooner I bury my cock back inside you the better, too,” he says, pulling me on top of him. “Show me what you got, Mama.”

After sending Tucker away when he came knocking a couple of hours later, I stayed the night with Mollie. I practically slept inside her all night, if you want to get technical. Her family checked out of The Pines earlier, so I helped her pack before she took her things to their usual cabin. It’s Christmas Eve, and we usually spend it with Dare since our parents retired and moved to Arizona to get out of the cold. I told Cordell where I’d be instead, and surprisingly, I didn’t even catch shit for it. Mollie invited him along, but I want to do this alone.

Before I can knock, Mollie opens the door, pulling me inside, out of the cold.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” She smiles, and she looks extra happy, considering the conversation we’re about to have.

“Who spiked your eggnog?” I tease.

“I’m just relieved. Regardless of how everyone reacts, it’s going to be such a huge weight off my chest.”

“I can imagine.”

Mollie leads me through the stereotypical River’s Edge vacation rental. The walls are always either green or tan, and the décor is almost always bears or pinecones. This one opted for bears. And there is always a bearskin rug. This place is no exception. Mollie leads me through the house and to the kitchen, where everyone sits at the impressive dinner table that’s packed with food.

“Everyone, this is my friend, Camden. Camden, this is my mom, Sarah, my dad, Nick, and my brothers, Craig and Andrew. You know Tucker.”

; Mollie’s mom smiles warmly at me; her dad gives me a wary look, assessing, but he gives a polite wave. Tucker appears to be mildly peeved about my presence. I give myself a mental reminder not to fuck my chances with Mollie by beating his ass.

“Dude, you’re friends with Camden Hess?” one of Mollie’s brothers—don’t ask me which one—asks, disbelief written all over his face.

“Nice to meet you, man,” I say, bending over to shake his hand from where he sits.