The Breaking Season

by K. A. Linde

  32

  Camden

  “Look, you can take the limo,” I told Lars as I bent over my pregnant sister.

  Her water had broken minutes earlier, and now, she was standing in a puddle of goo. The bottom half of her silk dress destroyed.

  I turned to the EMT. “What’s the closest hospital?”

  “NewYork-Presbyterian,” the woman said at once. “We have an ambulance nearby. We can take her ourselves.”

  “Is it that serious?”

  The woman considered it and then shook her head. “Only if you want a rush job. If you don’t care how long it takes, then your limo should do the trick. This is a first birth. I would say, at the minimum, she has another twelve hours of labor ahead of her.”

  Candice moaned. “Get me the fuck out of here. I don’t care where I go.”

  “Honey, we don’t have a birth plan for this hospital,” Lars interjected.

  And my sister looked at him as if she were going to filet him alive. “Lars, get me to a fucking hospital.”

  “Yes, honey,” Lars said automatically. “I’ll call the doula on the way.”

  Good man. That was the right answer.

  “We can help you out to the limo,” the EMT said.

  I didn’t hear Candice’s response. I’d turned to see where the hell Katherine was. I didn’t know if she’d want to go with Candice or if she’d want to wait until the baby was born and then we could meet her at the hospital. But I didn’t see her. And I’d sent fucking Penn Kensington of all people to locate her. Where the fuck was he?

  Then I saw someone else running toward me—Natalie Bishop.

  “Camden,” she said breathlessly as she teetered to a stop in her heels. “Katherine just… passed out.”

  Everything froze inside of me at those words.

  “What happened?” I asked with lethal calm.

  “I don’t know. Penn went to get her for you, and when they headed over here, she fainted.”

  I straightened as everything came into sharp focus.

  I knew it.

  I fucking knew it.

  Katherine was sick. People didn’t recover from anorexia. It was a mental illness. They learned to live with it. And she had learned to live with it, but it had gotten worse. I’d asked her about it to see if she knew how much worse she’d gotten. I’d been planning to find a way to get her into therapy after this weekend, but I was fucking late.

  And now, she exhibited one of the biggest signs. Dizziness and fainting were what I’d been looking out for. She was sick again. The anorexia had never left. Not really. But it was worse than it had been before we were together.

  This ended now. I’d just gotten her. I couldn’t lose her.

  “Take the limo,” I told Lars dismissively and came to Natalie’s side. “Show me where they are.” I pointed at the EMTs. “Come with us.”

  Natalie nodded and headed back the way that she had come. The EMTs followed quickly behind me. A girl fainting appeared to be higher priority than my sister going into labor. Good.

  We didn’t go far before I saw Kensington on the floor with my wife pillowed in his lap. Something hitched in my chest. A molten magma that was ready to spew up out of me and destroy everything in its path. But of course, I couldn’t direct that at Penn right now. Because the real problem was my wife… lying there, unconscious.

  “What happened?” I demanded as we all rushed over.

  Penn looked up at me with wide eyes and shook his head. “I have no idea. I came to get her for you, and she just fell. I barely caught her in time.”

  “I brought medical staff,” I told him as I sank down next to Katherine.

  Penn moved out of the way as the the EMTs got in close and began checking her vitals. “She’s breathing.”

  “Blood pressure is low,” the second one said and then rattled off the numbers.

  I blinked. That was low. Really low.

  They went back and forth as they checked her over.

  Then Katherine’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha—” she began.

  “Katherine, can you hear me?” I asked, dropping down to her side.

  “Camden?” she whispered. Her brown eyes searched me out. She looked incoherent.

  “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Dress,” she whispered. “Dress is too tight.” She blinked and looked up at the medical staff in confusion. “Where am I?”

  “You’re still at the Fashion Week gala.”

  The EMT stepped in. “Ma’am, your blood pressure is dangerously low, and you appear to have fainted. How are you feeling now?”

  “Fine,” she said, but her speech came out disjointed. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, but the team tried to stop her. “I’m fine. I just… I think the dress is too tight. I think maybe I… I don’t know. What’s going on?”

  “Katherine, lie back,” I instructed. “You’re sick. You fainted. Tell them the truth.”

  She looked back at me in confusion and shook her head. “What do you mean?”

  The EMT looked at me expectantly.

  “I’m her husband. She has anorexia. She needs to be taken to the hospital right away for recovery.”

  “Camden,” she whispered in horror. “I don’t… I’m fine. It’s the dress. I swear.”

  “She has a history of the condition. She’s been hospitalized in the past,” I said to the EMTs. “You can see all the signs.”

  “I’m not going to a hospital,” she said sluggishly. “Camden, you know… you know how I feel.”

  Then she tried to shove away from the EMTs and sit upright. But her breath hitched, and suddenly, her eyes rolled back into her head. She fainted a second time. If I hadn’t been there, she would have smacked her head on the carpet.

  I did know how she felt about hospitals. She hated them. She would hate me for making her go there, but I’d do it anyway to save her.

  The EMTs nodded at each other. “Let’s get her into an ambulance.”

  And then everything was a rush. It all happened in such a blur that all I knew was, one minute, we had been in the gala, and the next, I was in an ambulance, zipping uptown to the hospital, while my wife was being hooked up to an IV and her dress was being cut off of her frail body.

  Part V

  History

  33

  Katherine

  I awoke in a hospital bed. Machines beeped all around me. An IV ran into my vein. I was in a scratchy hospital gown. I was also freezing. My head felt fuzzy, and I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here.

  Just that I’d been rushing after Camden because of Candice’s pregnancy and then… oh. Oh, right. Camden had ordered me to go to a hospital. Camden had sent me here. Camden had gone against my wishes. He’d known my darkest fear, and still, he hadn’t listened to a word I’d said. He’d just rushed forward, taking charge, as if my feelings about the matter were inconsequential.

  My husband was seated in a hospital chair to the side of my bed.

  “You’re awake,” he said gently.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Not that long. You… came to in the ambulance and started thrashing around and screaming.” He kept his face blank, neutral, but I could see through him. I knew he dreaded what I was going to say. “They had to give you a sedative.”

  I closed my eyes again. A sedative. Well, didn’t that just feel familiar?

  “Katherine…”

  I held up my hand to keep him silent. I needed another minute to process all of this. Maybe if I processed it, I could hold back the panic attack clawing at my throat. The feeling of overwhelming, oppressive bullshit that raked fingers down my back. The one that said I was here again, I was never going to get out, and this was my new life.

  And I’d just felt like I was getting better. Seeing Jem in the hospital and being around her sunshine had made it bearable to even be in a hospital setting. But this? This?

  Camden had done this to me. This was… horrific.

  This was my worst n
ightmare all over again.

  My breathing turned erratic. I balled my hands into fists. I was going to hyperventilate. I couldn’t get enough oxygen in. That was how this had all started. That damn dress had been too tight. It had been so goddamn tight that I couldn’t breathe. Then I’d fainted, and everyone had thought the worst. Camden had assumed I was sick again. He’d fucking told everyone about my past illness with anorexia. Who’d heard? Who knew now what I’d tried to keep secret for a decade?

  “Katherine, can you hear me?” Camden squeezed my hand. “Are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”

  I wrenched my hand away from him. “I don’t need anything from you.”

  He didn’t move. Not a single flinch. As if he’d been bracing himself for however long he’d been sitting there. Anticipating my anger.

  “Why am I here?” I demanded.

  “Because you have anorexia, and the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for monitoring,” he said flatly. No life in his voice. Just cool calculation. Camden Percy to the max.

  “I am not anorexic anymore! My dress was too tight. I’d gained weight, and I wasn’t supposed to move a pound. It was like pulling the strings on a corset. I couldn’t breathe. That’s all that happened.”

  “Katherine, you and I both know that isn’t true.”

  “Well, if you say so, then it isn’t, right, Camden? You are the be-all end-all.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. You have been getting worse for months. You’ve lost too much weight. You’re hardly eating. You’re obsessed with your body image. You count calories and work out multiple times a day for hours on end.” He flattened his hand on the bed. “You have anorexia.”

  “No, I don’t,” I spat back at him. Fury rising up in me. “You think, because I was hospitalized before, that you know something about my previous condition, but you don’t! You know nothing. You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I was like. I was skin and bones. I didn’t even have muscle. I was sick all the time. I was frail and could barely eat more than a few bites.”

  Camden clenched his jaw. “You’re frail now. You barely eat more than a few bites now,” he growled. “And you don’t even see it.”

  I closed my eyes. He had no idea what he was talking about. “I’ve lost weight, and I’ve been exercising but not like before. I knew I was spiraling around Puerto Rico. Lark asked me about it, but I was careful after that. I didn’t want to be back in a hospital bed. Then you and I… well, we were together, and everything was looking up. I knew I wasn’t sick. I was just living in the moment with you. Then I wear a too-tight dress one time, and you assume that I’m as bad as before.”

  “I’m not assuming anything,” Camden said. “The last thing I want is to see you here, Katherine.”

  “You’re the one who put me here! And you know how I feel about it.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice still hard. “I knew that you’d hate me for doing it, and I did it anyway. Because you were sick, and you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie to you!”

  “Yes, you did. I asked you the night of English’s party if you were sick, if things were back to how they had been, and you said no.”

  “Because they weren’t back to that.” I took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m being so careful, Camden. I’m actually happy again. Our relationship is great. I actually want to eat. Of course I care what I look like, that’s part of my job, but I’m trying to starve myself.”

  He shook his head. “And you still don’t see it.”

  But I did. I saw exactly what he’d said. It was just skewed. He expected me to have anorexia, so he saw it in every aspect of my life. I had been exhibiting signs of previous behavior, but I’d been able to pull myself out of that. I didn’t need to be in a hospital. I wasn’t a threat to myself. I wasn’t a shell of a person anymore. If anything, I was so, so much better than I’d ever been. He just couldn’t see it, refused to see it.

  “You should go,” I said softly, turning my face away from him.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  I clenched my fists and tried not to cry. “I don’t want you here.”

  “You’re sick, and I should—”

  “You should what?” I snapped. “Haven’t you done enough? You command me to go to the hospital because you’re my husband. As if that gives you some authority over my body. Then you demand to stay, watching me suffer through my fears. No, you should go.”

  “I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “Tough shit. You ignored my wishes. I told you that I feared ever coming back and that I never ever wanted to do this. And you… you betrayed me.” Tears welled in my eyes despite me wanting to push them down. “You betrayed everything.”

  He straightened at that. Going stiff and looking remarkably like his father. “All right. Stay here and wallow then.”

  I balked at his tone. “Don’t try to turn this around on me, Camden Percy.”

  “No, of course not, Katherine. It would be much better for me to slowly watch you kill yourself at home.”

  “God, did you not listen to a word I said? I was better. We were better. This,” I said, gesturing to the room, “is only necessary to your ego. You have to be in control. You have to be the one to save me. But you don’t realize that you had already been doing it.”

  “Then it wasn’t enough,” he said flatly.

  “Well, if you weren’t enough at home,” I growled, “you certainly won’t be enough here.”

  He flinched slightly at that. As if I’d struck true.

  “Okay.” He backed away from me. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  He stepped around my bed and headed for the door. He stopped with his hand on it and looked back at me as if he were going to say something. I could see it in his eyes, how earnest he was in that moment, but then he buried it deep down. The way both of us had always been taught to deal with our problems.

  “I’m going to check on my sister. If you need anything, you can text. I’ll be upstairs.”

  Then he departed without another word.

  The wind rushed out of my sails. Everything ached—my body, my head, my heart. I hadn’t wanted to send him away. And yet, I couldn’t draw him back. I couldn’t forgive the trust that he’d shattered so callously.

  I knew… some part of me knew that he’d only done what he thought was best, that he was afraid, and he wanted to prevent a repeat. But there were other ways. There were so many other ways than forcing me into a hospital again against my will. He had known how much I would completely freak out and be unable to survive in here.

  Six weeks. I’d spent six weeks locked inside and away from the rest of the world. I wouldn’t do it again. They couldn’t make me. Not even my husband could force me to do it. I wasn’t sick. Not like that. Not anymore.

  I could get through this at home like a… normal person. Couldn’t I?

  I balled my hands up and pushed them hard against my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel any of this. Not my panic attack held at bay by anger. Or the fear that I might still… maybe… possibly be sick. And what that could mean for my future. And still, I felt like I shouldn’t have sent Camden away at all.

  Because, now, I was alone.

  I was facing this all alone again.

  But wasn’t that the story of my life? I didn’t have a savior. My father wasn’t a white knight. My brother wasn’t ever coming home. Penn had chosen someone else. And now, Camden’s betrayal cut like a knife. In the end, I only had myself.

  I’d dug my own grave.

  Time and time again.

  I would survive this, as I always did. Because every time I opened my heart up… someone came through with a bulldozer to crash into it.

  Maybe it would be better to seal my heart off for good and save myself the heartache. If this was always the outcome, why did I even bother?

  34

  Camden

  I’d known she’d be angry.


  I hadn’t known she’d be that angry.

  I deserved it. Every word that she had thrown at me. I had done precisely what she had told me not to. It had been out of fear… blind terror, if I was being honest. The sight of her lying on the floor, unconscious, would never leave my mind.

  Not that it mattered to her. What mattered was that I had stepped over a line. An unforgivable line in her eyes.

  She’d told me the one thing she feared. That she was only beginning to get over because of Jem, and what had I done? At the first sign of a problem, I’d packed her away into an ambulance and sent her to the hospital without a second thought, just like her mother.

  She was right to hate me. I couldn’t help her. I wasn’t enough. Nor had I ever been enough.

  Now, she was gone. Long gone.

  I couldn’t see a way to bridge what I had destroyed. Especially since she still wouldn’t recognize that she had a problem. I knew that was a sign of anorexia. No one wanted to believe they were sick, especially with a mental illness. She wanted to think that it had something to do with her job or that she was just working out to try to stay healthy for her socialite status. But she just didn’t see it.

  And she had lied to me.

  No… it hadn’t even been to me. She was lying to herself. She was so deep in this shit that she couldn’t even see.

  I didn’t know how bad it was. She was right that I hadn’t been there to see her hospitalized right out of high school. But I knew that it was bad enough for me to worry, for Lark to worry, for her to faint at the gala. I wished there had been another way. A way where she wouldn’t hate me. But that solution hadn’t been present when I fucking lost it at the gala.

  And I’d rather her hate me and be alive and get help than her to still be lying on the ground, pretending nothing was wrong. Pretending it was the fucking dress and not the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything for days.