"I am," Mac said. "He's a good kid. Is that water in the background?"
"Uh, yeah, don't ask," Cameron said, changing the subject back to Logan. "So," she asked, "since he knows about me, what does he say?"
"He says, 'Ew dad, you're old! What do you need a girlfriend for?'"
"I see. And in your ancient wisdom, what do you tell him?" Cameron asked. Standing in front of the mirror, she grinned at her reflection, listening to Mac roar with laughter. She twisted to inspect her rear, ran her hands over the curve of her hip and up the slight indentation of her waist. As always, the tattoo under her left breast caught her eye, the raised black ink stark against the natural tone of her skin.
My Own.
To some degree, Cameron almost liked the tattoo; slightly hidden below the heavy curve of her breast, the tattoo was dainty, slanted and feminine in a font with elegantly curved letters. It was the history of the mark that shamed her, the remembrance of how she came to wear it that made it ugly, and the fact that it was like a modern brand, marking her as someone else’s property. Still, without the history, viewed only as a work of art in itself, it wasn't exactly terrible.
"I'm sorry, what?" Cameron asked, tuning in to realize Mac had been calling her name. "I'm here, I just got distracted."
"I said I told him he'll understand when he's older," Mac answered. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good, I'm sorry. Really, I'm good. I can't believe you gave the kid that tired line though. He'll understand when he's older?" Cameron's fingers traced the tattoo as she listened to Mac laugh and joke on the other end of the phone.
"Well, he will. One day he'll meet a pretty lady like I did, and when she's with him, his problems will fall away, and when she's not, he'll wish that she was. And he'll get it."
"Is that how it works, then?" Cameron teased, turning away from the mirror to turn off the bathwater and slip beneath the silken surface of the scented water.
"I hope so," Mac murmured. "I'd hate for him to suffer through dozens of wrong ones first. I want him to have someone good in his life someday."
Cameron sighed, her breasts rising with her breath and then sinking into the water as she relaxed further. Crossing her ankles on the edge of the tub, she rested the curve of her skull against the wall and closed her eyes. "Is it really that possible?" she asked.
"I think so," he answered. "I found love when I was young. Alex and I were inseparable from the day we met until the day she was gone. And I don't fall into that one person for each person philosophy. I think when two people who are reasonably compatible get together, and they want things to work out, they work to work it out, to make it solid, to make it right."
"Even people who are damaged?" she whispered.
"Damaged?"
"Yeah, like me. Like you. People touched by tragedy or violence, or just bitterness. Do you think it can happen then?" Cameron listened to the silence as Mac gathered what he wanted to say; he sighed, and in the quiet, she could hear the cartoons Logan had been watching in the background.
"I think people who can let go of the bad or learn to embrace it can find happiness, even if it was stolen from them in the most horrible ways. I see it all the time in my work, Cameron. People come to me so broken that they can barely move, but they learn and they grow, and they adjust. A bad past or a tragic event doesn't have to ruin everything. You know the old adage, 'if at first you don't succeed --'"
"'Try, try again.' I had a teacher who always used to say that when I was younger." Cameron laughed, remembering the cranky old woman who'd taught her fifth grade reading class.
"Me too," Mac answered. "But I still believe mine."
Cameron's laughter caught in her throat, the knowledge of her own bitterness rising up to taunt her. "I'm not sure I do," she admitted, the rush of air from the air conditioner vent cooling her skin. She lowered her feet into the water, swishing them back and forth, and then raised one foot again to twist the hot water tap with her toe. A trickle of warmth cascaded into the tub, instantly warming the bath near her feet.
"I think somewhere inside you, you believe it," Mac murmured quietly. The sound of the TV quieted, and Cameron listened as he put his son to bed.
"You believe it," he repeated when he'd finished with Logan. "Because otherwise you wouldn't have been willing to even try with me, Cameron. Somewhere, there's a part of you that still believes in possibility."
"But why didn't I before?" she asked, watching steam rise from the bathwater near her feet, swishing her toes back and forth to spread the heat of the new water.
"Didn't you?" Mac challenged.
"I didn't date," Cameron answered, frowning.
"Maybe, Cameron, it wasn't you that you didn't believe in. Maybe you just didn't meet someone you thought could handle whatever it is that bothers you."
"And have I now? You know, met someone? Someone who can handle it, I mean?"
Mac chuckled. "I'm a therapist, remember? My job is to listen to people's horrors, and then help them find their way out of the darkness."
"But I'm not a patient Mac."
"Honey, my ability to care doesn't just kick in when the insurance companies write a check. I see you, and sometimes you're lighthearted and laughing and you have the cutest little smile when I've said something nice that you don't believe. And then other times, you get this look on your face, like something has reached out to you that's dark and repulsive, and you've accidentally taken it in, and let it poison you. And I want to catch you up and kiss it away, and listen to your stories, and reassure you that you're just right, and perfectly perfect."
"What if I can't be fixed?" Cameron asked.
"What if you aren't broken?" he answered.
***
"You seem a little distracted tonight," Mac said, stopping and taking Cameron's hand. He drew her back to him, tucking a loose bit of her hair behind her ear.
"I'm okay, Mac," she lied. I'm as okay as I can be on the tenth anniversary of the worst day of my life.
"You sure you're up for this? We don't have to go to the show. I mean, it'll be crowded, and ... " he trailed off with a sigh. "We can just go somewhere quiet. Dinner? Maybe a movie?"
Cameron laughed in spite of the quiet panic threatening to choke her. "Nope. I'm doing the conquering fear thing lately, remember?"
"If you're sure," Mac said, allowing Cameron to pull him along as she started walking again. He knew the concert would be crowded and loud, and Cameron seemed to be more tense than usual. He was aching to ask her what was really wrong, what had happened to her that made her so skittish and closed off. Respecting her right to talk when she was ready was getting harder and harder as his need to take things to the next level grew more persistent.
A man could only hold a girl so many times without wanting something more. He could only kiss her forehead so many times without longing for her lips. He could only kiss her lips gently so many times before his body started craving her body.
What the hell happened to you? he thought, sneaking a look at her swaying hips before catching up to her completely.
"Thank you for being concerned," Cameron murmured, looking over at him as he came alongside her. Her eyes caught a glimpse of something over his shoulder, and as he glanced over at her, the color drained from her face. She froze, ripping her hand from his. Confusion gripped him as he watched her fingers tangle together, her hands gripping tightly together over her stomach, knotting protectively beneath her left breast.
"Cameron?" Mac asked, looking quickly around. The area was not terribly crowded yet, but it was already busy, full of men and women walking together toward the site of the outdoor concert. "Cameron!" he called her name sharply, but she was frozen in place, her dark eyes filling with tears as she watched a crowd of men lounging with their women on the riverside lawn.
Her tongue darted out, dipping to the corner of her mouth and then swiping across her bottom lip, her eyes still watching the crowd, her body tense beside him. "Oh God, no," she whispered. "No,
no, no."
"Cameron!" Mac snapped his fingers in front of her, but her eyes were sightless now, her face showing a mix of emotions as her entire body began to tremble.
"Dude, she cool?" someone asked, tapping Mac on the shoulder. To his credit, he did look concerned, but his most genuine emotion seemed to be simple curiosity.
"She's fine," Mac lied. "She, uh, just got bad news on the phone." He sent the other man away, and turned back to Cameron, who seemed to have shrunken in on herself in the absence of his attention. As her date, she looked frightening to Mac, still quietly whispering, "No, no, please no," holding her arms around her waist as if desperately afraid of something. As a therapist, Mac dug into his career history, and he saw a classic post-traumatic panic attack.
"What to do, what to do," Mac muttered. Taking her arm to guide her might snap her out of it, but it might also jar her and cause her to scream or lash out, which would make their situation much worse in a crowd full of people who might misjudge what was going on. Still, he couldn't just stand there and watch her implode, so he took the risk.
"Here goes," he whispered, taking a deep breath. In his most calm and quiet voice, the one he used for crumbling patients, Mac gently took Cameron's elbow in his hand, turning her, murmuring quietly. She moved numbly, not appearing to notice Mac at all, which terrified him. What if I hadn't been with her? What the hell is going on? he thought.
Leading Cameron to a group of trees surrounding a small concrete seating area, Mac pressed her shoulders and urged her to sit. Her breathing was quick and uneven; her heart racing so fast that he could see the pulse vibrating in the base of her throat. She'd held her stomach the entire time they'd walked, one hand floating frequently to the space beneath her left breast, the fingertips brushing at some invisible irritant.
Mac caught her hand, holding on as she squeezed her eyes closed, still moaning her desperate pleas. Tears leaked from her lashes, running slowly down her cheeks to drip from the tip of her chin. Helplessly, Mac knelt beside her and waited for the panic to subside.
Oh god, he's here, Cameron thought. He's here, he's out and he’s going to come after me, he's going to ruin everything. I can't see him; I can't look at him and see the victory in his face again. Oh God, no, please no. Her hand floated again to the tattoo under her breast as the memories played back in her head.
"Good morning, love," Kevin whispered, leaning over her as her eyes fluttered open. "We had such fun last night, my love, my sexy vixen."
Disgusted, Cameron tried to turn her head away, but she couldn't move. Panic flooded her as she realized she couldn't move her arms either. Her legs wouldn't lift; her toes wouldn't curl. Her chest tightened, the natural panic response hindered as her breath refused to quicken. She tried to speak, but could only gasp or moan helplessly.
He chuckled softly, laughing at her fear. "Rest, love. You moved plenty for me last night while I played with you. You thought you could wear that teasing dress and just walk away from me unscathed. I have to give you credit though, even with the drugs I slipped you, you fought like a champ."
Cameron fought her body, commanded her heavy limbs to lift, rolled her eyes around desperately to see whatever was in her line of sight. She tried to remember the night before, but everything was blank. All she could remember was dressing for the frat party and drinking with Kevin. Everything beyond the first few drinks was ... blank.
"But you see, my dear," Kevin said, his fingers stroking her cheek, running down her throat to tweak her nipple - oh God she was naked! "You don't deny me. You don't get to tell me no, because I get what I want, no matter what. And a pre-med? I know so many ways to make someone, shall we say, compliant. And now, look at you. My very own plaything. All my own."
Viciously, he twisted her nipple again, and Cameron moaned helplessly, wanting to scream but unable to force her body to obey the frantic screaming in her mind. "Did you know, Cameron," he continued, "that a mild dose of nearly any paralytic can render you completely helpless? It doesn't take much, my love, but I did have quite a bit of homework to do in order to get my hands on the proper drugs. And now, look. My own. All for me. Can you still feel me though? Was the dose low enough to leave you able to feel the sensation of my touch?"
Cameron blinked, mewling frantically. Tears ran freely down the side of her face, pooling in her ear, wetting the hair beneath her head. His fingers were everywhere, his hands passing over her. She didn't realize they weren't alone until he nodded to someone she couldn't see, and a woman's voice said, "Okay, I’m ready."
A sudden buzzing sound filled the room, vibration touching her stomach, slightly below the curve of her left breast. It stung slightly but wasn't entirely painful. Cameron lay quietly waiting, the tears flowing endlessly, cooling in her hair.
Finally, Kevin leaned over her again, smiling. He held a syringe in front of her, allowing her to see, causing her panicked moans to begin anew. "No worries now, my love, my own, we're all finished playing. Almost."
There was a stinging pinch in her arm, and her eyes floated closed again.
"Cameron!" Mac was nearly shouting, his voice tense, his hands gently shaking hers. She jerked, blinking, and when she looked at him, he was relieved to see that she was finally present inside herself, finally seeing him again.
Cameron was horrified to come out of the flashback and see Mac staring intently into her face. "Mac? Oh God, no." She dropped her face into her hands, her shoulders trembling as tears dripped from between her fingers. He slid closer to her, cautiously laying his arm over her shoulders.
"Cameron, please. Please tell me what's going on," he whispered. "Please, I'm worried about you. Where'd you go back there?"
Cameron sighed, holding herself away from him until she just couldn't hold back anymore. "I don't know, Mac," she said quietly. "I don't know if I can tell you."
"Please Cameron, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what's going on; let me be here for you. Let me in, Cameron." He slid from the bench, kneeling in front of her to take her hands. "Let me in," he repeated.
She looked away, watching the crowd through the trees. She didn't even know how she'd gotten there; the last thing she remembered was walking with Mac, and then seeing someone who'd looked like Kevin, only realizing that it wasn't him after it was too late. Too late to stop the flashback from taking over.
"Will you tell me what happened to you?" Mac asked gently.
"I can't tell you all of it," Cameron began.
"That's okay," he whispered. "Please, just tell me something. Please, give me a hint to what's going on."
"I can't tell you all of it," she repeated, "because I don't remember all of it. In college, I --" she paused, watching his eyes close, his lips tensing as she spoke. She waited, waited until those icy blue eyes opened and focused again on her face.
"Go on," he whispered raggedly.
"I was at a party. I was drinking, young, stupid. I was drugged --"
"You were date-raped?" His hands tensed over hers as he broke in, his shoulders bunching with the effort to remain still.
"I was. But I don't remember any of it; the drug took me over pretty fast. I guess they do that. But the guy had a friend with a grudge, an ex of mine. From what I heard, I was, sort of, given to Kevin," she whispered. "Payment for a favor or something." Shame filled her, remembering the long process of drawing the story out of various people who'd been at the party that night. She’d been so humiliated in court, listening as people told their stories about her, filling in the things that she couldn't remember on her own.
"Oh God, Cam," Mac whispered, his eyes taking her in, his hands leaving hers to cup her face. She took his hands in hers, lowering them from her face and holding them together in her lap.
"That's not really it," she said.
"You can't mean there's more," he breathed.
"He was pre-med; he had a couple of doctors in his family, friends who worked for chemists, things like that. One of the frat brothers worked for a pharm
acist. I don't know what he used, but I woke up sometime during the time he had me. And I was paralyzed. Helpless." Her breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling to fill her until she thought she'd throw up. Swallowing, she waited for his response.
Mac froze, motionless. He knew he should say something, anything, preferably something reassuring, but all he could think of was the murderous rage filling him. No wonder she held herself back! he thought.
"Oh God, Cameron," was all he could manage. He ached to reach out for her, to take her in his lap, wrap her in his arms. He wanted to protect her, to go after the idiot who had abused her innocence. And he was as helpless now as she had been that night, unable to do anything more than listen. "Is there more?" he croaked.
She nodded, terror filling her eyes. She took a breath, visibly forcing herself to relax, gathering her personal strength around herself. Raising her shoulders, she dropped his hands and lifted her own to gather the hem of her silken floral top. She closed her eyes, took another breath, and slowly raised the hem.
Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series) Page 11
