Taming the Legend (22 page)

“Did I pass?”

“Flying colors. So, which of us gets to be the grizzly?”

“In sevens, the hooker has to be really,
really fit. And she has to be lifted into the air by our two props, Kayla and Jen. So Alyssa, I’m thinking you’d be great in the position.”

The compact bundle of energy who looked like she could have a career as a marathon runner blushed. “You think I’d make a great hooker?”

He grimaced. “Do me a favor—don’t put that on Facebook. Come here and get Schmiddy.” He waited till she’d collected
the cardboard cutout. “So we have our three forwards. Now we need our four backs—a scrum-half, fly-half, center and fullback.”

He picked up a cutout of himself. It was one of his favorites, one he’d authorized his agent to send out in his press pack, so he often saw it alongside quotes of his. He was covered in mud, blood and sweat and holding the World Cup above his head. His expression
broadcast his triumph. In that instant, he’d ruled the world.

“Wow, Ashford,” Tori said. “You’re kinda hot.”

He shot her a horrified glance, briefly noticing Hannah, Kayla and Jen did the same. “Moving swiftly on… I played scrum-half, which is a half-back position that links the forwards and the backs. Scrum-halfs are often involved in plays where the ball is on the ground, so being
short is an advantage. You have to excel at every skill—passing, kicking, tackling,
everything—
and that’s particularly true when playing sevens. Hannah, I think you’d be an excellent scrum-half.”

She tried to play it off like she couldn’t care less, but the pink tinge of her cheeks told him she was secretly pleased as he handed the cutout to her. She stood next to it and playfully draped
her arm around his shoulder. Something…something strange caught his eye, but he couldn’t quite figure out what, so he picked up Liam Callaghan. “Now we have our fly-half.”

“Me!” Tori shouted.

“You think you’d be a good fly-half?”

“No idea. I just want to take that guy back to my bunk.”

Ash grimaced. “He’s
way
too old for you.”

“He’s also two-dimensional. Ask me if I care.”

He sighed and passed her the cutout. “Please bring him back in one piece.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

“Right. If you’re going to be our fly-half, we’ll be working extra hard on your decision-making skills and strategic thinking this week. Get ready to watch a lot of videos and do some extra training sessions because fly-halfs have to be good at everything. Now for our center
and our fullback.” He picked up Spencer Bailey and Matt Ogden. “These players have to be fast, quick on their feet and have a lot of stamina.”

Tori opened her mouth but Ash held up his hand for silence. “The next person who makes a sex joke will have to clean up my vomit. I don’t want to hear it. Got it? Good. Marina, Tracy and Katie, I’ll be trying you out in these two positions. There are
eight of you, and only seven can be on the pitch at once, but everyone will get a chance to play as long as you work hard and show me you want it. And I might switch you around, depending on how your skills continue to develop. But for now, this is our team.”

He surveyed them all, his new team standing with their arms around his old team. His eagerness to get back to the men he knew so well
slowly bloomed into something else. Hope that he could build something for these girls, so they wouldn’t end up as lost and alone as Camila had.

One by one he looked at them, but his gaze snagged on Hannah and the strange déjà vu passed over him again.

“So,” Tori said, “what are we doing next, Ashlington?”

“My name’s not Ashlington,” he murmured. “It’s Ashley.”

Hannah’s head
shot up and she gave him a grin as huge as the one he wore in the picture she stood next to. “Hey, that’s my middle name!”

Shock ripped through him as swiftly as a lightning bolt. Oh,
Jesus.
No wonder she looked familiar.

She looked just like him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“That Presbyterian church from Oceanside called to book a retreat for January. What should I tell them?” Becca asked, balancing her tablet on her knee as she sat across the desk from Camila.

Camila leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, struggling to think when she felt so physically and emotionally drained. The muscle relaxers had eased her
pain, but her mood was dark. The camp could be foreclosed on by January. They usually charged a fifty percent deposit, but she would hate to take money from a church when she couldn’t offer the same guarantee in return.

“Camila?”

On the other hand, she had Ash fighting to keep the camp open, and she wouldn’t bet against him. “Tell them we’re available then. Don’t say anything about us
having troubles. We should find out what’s happening in plenty of time for them to find somewhere else, if they need to.”

Becca made a note on her tablet. “And what about—”

The door flew open, slamming against the wall, and Ash rushed inside. “Mila—oh. Sorry.”

She stood, alarmed at the panic on his face. “What’s wrong? Is it one of the girls?”

“Yeah. I mean—no.” He glanced
quickly at Becca then back at her with raised brows that said
Get rid of her.

“Bec, we can finish up later.”

“Tomorrow,” Ash said.

Her belly plummeted. “It’s that bad?”

Becca stood and smoothed down her skirt. “I’ll go finish up a few things, and then I’ve got to get home anyway. I have a date tonight, but if you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks.” Camila waited until
they were alone before bracing her hands on the desk. “Should I sit down?”

“No. We need to find somewhere private.”

Some of her alarm bells quietened. “Ash, if this is a ruse to get me alone—”

“I wish. Just come with me.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I don’t mean to. But we really need to talk. Where can we go?”

She grimaced as she weighed the possibilities. “My place, I
guess, but I don’t want anyone to see you coming or going. I don’t need that kind of gossip.”

“You never have male colleagues visit?”

“Of course, but I would never sleep with any of them. Every time I look at you, I can’t believe no one’s figured us out yet.”

“I’d suggest we take a walk around the lake, but we need to go somewhere we won’t be overheard.”

“We could row out to
the middle of the lake—as long as you do all the grunt work.”

“People will still be able to see us. We need total privacy for this, Mila.”

What the hell?
“If one of the girls is in danger—”

“It’s not that. Not even close.”

“Okay. I guess my place is the only option. Just try to walk like you’ve never slept with me before.”

His face twisted with confusion. “I didn’t realize
I have a slept-with-Camila walk.”

“I can’t explain it. Let’s go.” She ushered him out of her office and locked the door. After saying goodnight to Becca, she led him out the side of the lodge and down a private path to her cabin. It was several minutes’ walk away from the other buildings, which had terrified her when she’d first moved here. Her dreams had been populated with ax murderers
and other psychos who haunted woodlands waiting for unsuspecting women to be somewhere no one could hear them scream. But over the years, she’d come to love her little cabin and its peaceful surroundings. She could get away from her staff and all the temporary residents, and simply enjoy time figuring out her own problems instead of trying to solve everyone else’s.

The cabin had a wooden
wraparound porch, something she’d dreamed of having as a little girl growing up on the wrong side of the tracks in Montana. Her childhood home had had a couple of concrete steps leading up to a door that had never hung right after the previous owner had kicked it down when he’d seen another man’s truck parked next to his wife’s in the driveway. Then they’d had to move into the apartment complex where
she’d been so painfully unhappy. This cabin only had one bedroom, but she’d shared with Gabriel until she’d been sent to this camp, so having a bedroom all to herself still seemed like a luxury.

She unlocked the door and Ash followed her into the living room. She’d mostly decorated it with handmade rustic furniture she’d picked up at various stores in Baja. After falling in love with the
cheerful colors of her dad’s home in East L.A., she’d painted two walls yellow and two orange. The walls were covered in brightly colored artwork, mirrors with fantastical frames, and dozens of old family photos. One of the walls had glass doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the lake. The sun was setting, casting long shadows into the room and tingeing the lake pink. This place was her safe
haven, and inviting Ash in felt like a huge step toward healing, even though the anticipation of his news made her want to puke. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Yeah.”

She crossed to her kitchenette. “Beer? Wine?”

“Anything. Everything.”

Her gut tightened painfully, and she tried to keep the worry from her voice as she pulled a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the fridge.
“Must be really bad.”

“You know what? Fuck the drink. Just come here.”

She put the wine back in the fridge. Squaring her shoulders, she sat next to him on the couch and turned so she could see him better.

“What do you know about the girls?”

She drew back a little. “What do you mean?”

“You know their names, where they come from, why they’re here?”

“Yeah. Their parents
put all that in the applications.”

“So you know all of it before they come?”

She shook her head. “I’m not involved in the individual applications. The counselors are, and the director of counseling makes the final decision. I get their names and some other basic information just before they arrive, but I don’t look into their case files unless it becomes clear one of them is having problems
we need to address.”

“Like what?”

“We’ve had a couple of kids threaten suicide. A few who have become violent.”

“So you don’t know much about these girls?”

“Not when they first arrive. They have counselors available to delve into deep issues with them. I like to be the person who just sees them as individuals instead of kids with problems. It seems to help them relax around
me. Why?”

He shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Her heart hammered painfully. When he opened his eyes again, the confusion in them turned her heart into a jackhammer. “This is going to sound stupid but… I think one of the girls is our daughter.”

Nothing, nothing could have prepared her for the shock. It was like touching dry ice, an all-encompassing freeze chased swiftly by scorching
heat. “What?”

He grabbed her hands. “I can’t even believe I’m saying this. But one of them has the middle name Ashley and, I swear to God, she looks like me.”

Camila shoved to her feet and stared down at him in horror. “You
asshole.
You tell me this because one of the girls has the middle name Ashley? Are you fucking
kidding
me? Do you know how common that is?”

He shoved to his
feet and faced her, fury twisting his face. “Did you hear the part about her looking like me?”

“Yeah, but you’re delusional. I’ve seen all of those girls and I’ve seen you. None of them look like you.”

Except Hannah, a little. Wait—why had her brain immediately chosen Hannah? Other than being short, she looked nothing like Ash. Nothing.

“You know which girl I’m thinking about.”

“But she doesn’t look like you.”

“Then why are you thinking about her?”

Because there was something unsettling trying to grab Camila’s attention, something she couldn’t quite grasp. A fleeting moment of recognition when she’d first seen the girl, but one that had passed so quickly she’d barely noticed it. Like a fly landing on her arm and immediately taking flight before she could
register it was there and brush it away.

It was a movement of Hannah’s lips. That was it. As Camila had delivered her welcome speech, Hannah had scrunched her lips to the side as if she were assessing Camila and temporarily withholding judgment.

And now Camila recognized it. Ash had given her the same look that first day on the beach when she’d called him out for referring to the passing
girl’s bubble butt. And he’d probably given it to her a dozen times since. It was just…it was his look.

“Oh my God.” Camila pressed her hands to her lips, trying to keep herself from breaking down. “No. No, it’s not possible.”

Ash caught her just as her knees gave out. He held her tightly against his chest as if he needed whatever strength he could draw from her too. She had none left.

“How can we find out for sure?” he murmured against her hair.

“Her birthday. It’ll be in her file.” She couldn’t move. Could hardly even breathe. It was like giving birth all over again, the breath knocked completely from her lungs as she used every ounce of concentration to keep herself from losing control. “I can’t—”

“I’ll go get the file. Just tell me where it is.”

“It’s
digital. My laptop’s in my bag.”

Ash helped her sit on the couch, and she stared blankly into space, barely noticing as he fetched her computer and booted it up. Hannah. Their daughter? She couldn’t be. She had to be.

Oh, God, Camila was so confused. It’d been a closed adoption. She’d never known the adoptive parents’ names. She’d seen them briefly, a breach in protocol but Gabriel had
taken her to the hospital’s nursery one last time to say goodbye and they’d happened to be there, cradling her baby. Crying with joy and relief over her. Camila had tried to convince herself the sight made her happy, but every cell in her body had screamed
Mine!

“Where are the files?”

Camila took the computer and clicked through the folders until she found the right file. The system
was always slow to connect in her cabin, but today it felt interminable. When it finally opened, she scrolled to the right section. “April 17, 1998.”

“Is that…?”

Camila nodded, completely beyond words. Fat, burning tears rolled down her cheeks. Her body shivered uncontrollably, the same way it had between every contraction as the hormones had violently raged inside her. Her daughter.

Her
daughter.

A shattered breath ripped through her, and suddenly she found herself half-smothered in Ash’s chest. He shook as hard as she did, and somehow his loss of control comforted her. This time she wasn’t alone. Wasn’t going through this with her brother, who, wonderful as he was, could never understand the agony of giving up a child. She felt sick with all the emotions warring
for control of her. She struggled for air and peace and comprehension of what the hell had just happened to her quiet life.

Next thing she knew, she was being swung up into his arms and carried into her bedroom. Ash laid her on the bed and stretched out next to her, not making any inappropriate moves but just holding her close. Time lost all meaning. She had no idea how long passed before
the violent waves of emotions ebbed away, leaving a bleak and barren landscape.

“It could still be a coincidence,” she whispered against his chest.

“You need to see her next to a picture of me. Or next to me, I guess. Same smile. It’s…eerie.”

“She’s blonde. How did you and I have a blonde daughter?”

“My mum’s blonde.”

Camila closed her eyes. “So’s mine.” Camila had taken
an intro to biology class as part of her general education requirement for her degree. There’d been a unit on genetics, and she’d related everything she’d learned to her mystery daughter, who would’ve been a toddler then. She’d known nothing about what Ash’s family looked like, but since he had dominant traits—dark hair, dark eyes—she’d figured their daughter would be as dark as they were.

But their daughter had blond hair. She looked nothing like Camila. But neither of those details hurt the way this next one did. “I always thought I’d know her immediately.”

Ash pulled back enough that Camila could no longer hide in his chest. His thumb brushed over her cheek, barely touching the fragile skin beneath her eye as he wiped away the remnants of her tears.

“For years, I used
to see little girls and ask myself if I felt something different for them. If there was a spark of recognition or love or maternal instinct magically bonding me to them.” Her voice shook. “When I saw Hannah, I didn’t feel anything.”

“It’s not your fault, Mila. It’s
not.
”

“Why didn’t I feel anything? Why didn’t I recognize her?”

“Because the last time you saw her she was one day
old, and now she’s seventeen.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Yes, it’s
exactly
that.”

She shook her head. “A mother should recognize her child.”

But she wasn’t a real mother and never had been, other than for nine months when she was sixteen. What did it say about her that Ash had figured it out first?

She didn’t have time to analyze the question because Ash rolled her onto her
back and lay on top of her. He kissed her with a ferocity that matched all the anguish inside her. She grabbed his head with both hands, digging her nails into his scalp as she kissed him back.
Make me forget. Make me forget everything I’ve done, everyone I’ve disappointed.

But his kiss didn’t allow her to escape into oblivion. He held her face and wouldn’t let her sink into a dream that
she was anyone other than herself. She fought to forget, but he pulled away and whispered her name against her lips. “Camila. Camila.”

No, let me be someone else. Just for tonight. Just for an hour.

But she was the still the teenage girl who’d been sent away to Barcelona for a summer because her mother didn’t know how to handle her. She was the teenage girl whose first love dumped her
for a sport. She was the teenage girl who gave away her baby. She was the teenage girl who’d been sent to this camp because she’d gotten so drunk she’d nearly killed herself. And she was the young woman who’d returned here to work with her dad after college because it was the only place she felt safe and centered.