Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1)

by Yessi Smith

  I wince, connecting with the sorrow her words bring.

  Stripped of everything good, my bleeding heart welcomes her truth. Carmen’s sympathetic eyes roll over me, so I look away, but curiosity forces me to know.

  “Who’s the girl’s dad?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  “You,” Carmen says barely above a whisper.

  Confusion fills me, and I catch Santiago’s unrestrained gaze.

  “You didn’t just leave us”—Santiago waves a hand toward Carmen and himself—“or Yan. You left your daughter.”

  I hear his words, my own thoughts echoing in my mind, and reality sets in.

  By leaving, I thought I was giving Yanelys a chance at a real future. I thought I was hurting only myself. But sharp edges aligned our broken love, and the pieces continued to shatter as I stayed away and broke us even more.

  My heart, the part that still cares, throbs with regret, all the broken pieces flowing together to slice through my chest. And I wonder if I can even remember my life without the heartbreak. Without this searing agony.

  I’m back, but there’s no one to come back to. There’s no home, no place where I belong.

  I mask the pain with an uneasy smile. “I have a daughter?” I swallow.

  As I nervously tap my foot under the table, sweat begins to build at the base of my neck. With trembling fingers, I lift a hand to Carmen, not wanting her to go on.

  But I drop my hand in my lap and clench it closed. Frustrated, I unwrap the bandages, exposing the angry red marks.

  The shop is too quiet, too loud, too much.

  My pills, just one more pill, would grant me the escape I need. My fingers itch, but I remain planted on the seat with heavy legs I can’t move.

  “You have a daughter,” Santiago confirms.

  Relief floods me. And hope.

  The mangled wad of napkin that somehow ended up in my hand is taken from me by Carmen. She closes a tight fist over it and smiles slightly.

  “Did you honestly think there was ever anyone but you?” Small tears roll down her cheek, and she wipes each one away before they drip off her chin. “I won’t lie to you, Cam. I kept praying there would be, so she’d get over you.”

  I wince again but understand. The idea of Yanelys hurting alone brings me nothing but misery.

  Unease advances on me, the air buzzing anxiously around us, making sweat pool down my cold skin. Nausea hits me, and I swallow hard to keep it at bay. The itching in my fingers increases and spreads across my hand to my arms. My foot bounces as Carmen tells me about my daughter, but my rattled nerves make it difficult for me to sit still. Without giving a reason, I excuse myself and go to Santiago’s car where I’ll find my pills inside the hospital bag.

  Outside, the gravel crunches beneath my fast-paced steps. The peaceful sky spans around me, the scattered white clouds uncaring of the storm brewing within me. I pull on the car door handle and cuss when it doesn’t open.

  Wild with desperation, I spin around and crash into Santiago’s broad chest. He grabs my shoulders and steadies me as my legs grow heavier.

  “Cam.”

  My name echoes in my head.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Migraine,” I lie, keeping my eyes on the ground.

  “Okay, take it easy, son.”

  Santiago squeezes my shoulders once, and I hunch over when he unlocks the car door and opens it. Rummaging through my bag, he pulls out the bottles Pastor Floyd gave me and shakes them after reading the label.

  “Your doctor didn’t prescribe these.”

  “No.”

  My shoulders hunch over even further as reality exposes me as a liar. A junkie.

  “Where’d you get them?” he asks.

  Unable to meet his eyes, I fidget with a tear in my shirt.

  “I asked you a question, Camden.” His firm tone slaps me.

  My face inks red with embarrassment, but I try to laugh it off.

  “I need them.” I shrug.

  “These aren’t migraine pills, Camden!” Santiago shakes the bottle inches away from my face. “They’re drugs! Fucking drugs!”

  “Santiago,” Carmen pleads when she walks up to us. She places a calming hand on his shoulder, which only seems to infuriate him further.

  “Drugs, Carmen,” he hisses. “Our boy left us to become a junkie.” Santiago runs his hands over his face several times.

  Shame weaves itself into my soul, darkening me even more. It’s a battle I can’t win, and as each second passes, the need for another pill increases.

  “Santiago,” I breathe his name softly. “I need another pill.”

  The turmoil whipping its way around us makes me tremble. Understanding crosses Santiago’s face, and he opens up the bottle. Putting a pill in his palm, he extends his hand. When I take the pill from him, he grips my wrist and pulls me to him.

  Santiago wraps his arms around me in a tight embrace. “We’re gonna get you clean, Cam. You and me—we’re in this together, and we’re gonna get you clean.”

  I hug him back, and my rapid breaths fall on his shoulder as he runs soothing circles over my back.

  “Take your pill, go see Yan, and meet your little girl. Then, we’ll go away. It’ll be our first men’s trip, just the two of us.”

  When Santiago lets me go, I take the pill—my worst enemy, my loyal companion—and I prepare myself to see Yanelys…and my daughter.

  SIXTEEN

  YANELYS

  Through all the fights and bad dreams, through the abuse and lies, I loved Camden. I stayed faithfully by his side. I never wavered. No matter what his parents did to him or said to him, I was proud to stand with him. To fight with him.

  I loved him in the truest way.

  When he left me, pregnant and alone, I hated him in the truest way, too.

  It took months of my parents and me searching for him to realize the truth behind what my mom had always said. We were too young. My feelings, though very real, were too much, too consuming, and when he left, I was numb to everything but the pain of my gaping heart.

  Countless tears were shed over the loneliness I felt for both myself and the little girl I thought would never meet her dad.

  How many times did Olivia ask about her dad? Still, I told her what a good man her dad was, how strong he was, how much he loved her. She’d listen without understanding because all she knew to be true was that her dad was missing. And how could someone who loved her not be around?

  I locked away my anger and grief, and every morning, I smile at the little girl who gave me life. Mom, dad, teacher, nurse, and friend—I’ve played those roles with pride. Despite the constant ache in my chest, I’ve given every part of myself into being a mom. Because, in the end, Olivia looks up to me to give her a happy childhood.

  But hope lingered, and now that Camden’s back in my life, my love for him clashes with the hate.

  I don’t want to love him. I don’t want our love to cease either.

  I don’t want to see him. But I don’t want him to leave me again.

  Hearing the doorbell ring, I pat the top of Olivia’s head and run my hands through her long dark hair before I answer it. Her light brown eyes follow me, and I stick my tongue out at her, making her giggle, before she focuses her attention back on the television.

  My fingers toy with the fabric of my shirt as I walk through the hallway of my house toward the door. My chest tightens as I grip the doorknob, and air escapes from my lungs when the man I both love and hate stands between my parents. I nod once, promising my heart I won’t let it get hurt again, and I step back to let them in.

  Camden’s throat bobs, and his lips part, as if to say something, but he shuts it when I cross my hands over my chest. I clench my fists and hug myself tighter when I see the visible bruises on his face. His hands, marred red by his own mother’s doing, fall limply to his sides. The air in the room closes in around us, and I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump forming in my throat.

  Even
as a teenager, Camden looked strong. But the man standing in front of me is small. Although he still has broad shoulders, he’s too skinny, too withdrawn, too much like a stranger.

  My Rottweiler runs toward Camden only to stop once she’s on top of his leg. His eyes fill with fear and dart in my direction. So he doesn’t see me smile, I cover my mouth with my hands but I can’t hold back the laughter.

  “That’s Nisa.” I pull her off of him and pat her head when she simply leans onto him. “She’s a bit needy, so if she gets on your nerves, just push her with your foot. Not hard or anything,” I instruct. Having lost the ability to shut the hell up, I continue speaking, “She’s already traumatized enough.”

  Camden’s mouth turns down, and the memory of his lips pressed against mine floods me, drowning out all common sense.

  “When she was a puppy, a guy I’m no longer friends with came over for a barbeque. He was going through a bad divorce and drinking,” I ramble.

  When his tongue peeks out and caresses his lips, I turn my attention to the wall behind him.

  “When he started crying, my friends and I tried to console him, but only Nisa was able to get him to stop when she curled up on his lap.”

  I bite my lip, wanting but not able to prevent the words from spilling out of my mouth. Needing to occupy my hands, I let my hair down from its ponytail, only to put it back up into a loose bun on the top of my head.

  “It was going fine at first. He was just petting her, but then she got up and licked his face. Before we knew it, her tongue was all over his mouth. I don’t know why he let her, but there was a lot of tongue.”

  A disgusted sound comes from the back of Camden’s throat, and I put both my hands up and fake a smile for his benefit.

  “I know. But none of us knew what to do, so we just kind of left them and went inside. It was wrong—I know that—but what do you do in a situation like that?”

  Rather than responding, he blinks at me. That’s it. He just blinks. I’m such a tool.

  “That was a really weird thing for me to say to someone I haven’t seen in seven years. Can I start over?” With my tongue still too loose, I don’t wait for him to reply. “This is Nisa,” I make unnecessary introductions again. “She’s a sweetie, but she can get too friendly sometimes.”

  “Is she going to try to slip me some tongue?” he asks.

  His blue eyes search mine, flickering with his emotions. My face heats up when he licks his lips again, and I look around my house for a hole to crawl into.

  My dad laughs at our awkwardness and pats Camden on the shoulder. My mom crosses over to me and kisses my cheek. My dad quickly follows suit.

  “We’ll take Olivia out back,” my mom says.

  Hearing the word out, Nisa lets out an emphatic bark and runs to the back door.

  “That way, you two can talk privately,” she adds.

  I nod, breathing through the knots growing in my stomach.

  “Can I meet her first?” Camden asks.

  With his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast, I can hardly see the boy I once knew. But he’s in there somewhere, and every part of me wants to find him. More than that, I want Camden to find himself.

  Whatever I’ve been through without him is nothing compared to what he’s been through. Forgiveness creeps into my heart, slightly freeing me of the weight I’ve carried for seven long years.

  I can’t hate the boy who left me any more than I can prevent my lungs from breathing.

  “Sure.”

  Smiling broadly, I take Camden’s hand, and although he winces in pain, he still laces his fingers through mine.

  Warm familiarity sears into my skin while butterflies explode in my stomach, expelling the knot I just had moments ago. Turning on the tips of my feet, I spin around to face him. He arches an eyebrow, and I laugh.

  He’s still my Camden. He’s also Olivia’s dad.

  He might have left me, but he also gave me the best parting present imaginable.

  Without reservation, I tightly wrap my arms around his stomach and rest my head on his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat.

  So skinny, I think when I reach around and clasp my hands behind his back.

  Camden doesn’t hesitate as he puts his arms around me, leaning his head on top of mine.

  “You left me,” I whisper into his chest.

  He lifts his head and takes my hair out of the bun. He begins to comb his fingers through my hair and I hold back a sigh. “I know.”

  Two words. That’s all it takes to break my resolve.

  Face flushed with resentment, I push off of him and square my shoulders. “You left me with just a memory!” I accuse. “You tore me to pieces, and now? Now, you want to come back into my life. No. No, no, no, Camden! You don’t get to pick and choose when I’m convenient.”

  I shove him again, each shove getting harder, until his back is against the wall. Tears stream down my face, the witnesses of my despair. When I move to walk away from him, Camden takes ahold of my hand and brings me to him. He wraps his arms around me, pressing my body to his, until we are flush with one another. Struggling in his grasp, I lift my head to yell at him, but he crushes his lips against mine.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I’m sorry, Yan. I’m sorry,” he continues to whisper between the light kisses he presses into me.

  The taste of his despair is my undoing, so I kiss him back. Harder, wanting to take away his pain.

  When we finally separate, we look at each other, breathless. Words go unspoken as our panting settles.

  “So,” my mom says, her voice nonchalant.

  Our eyes dart to my parents, who we had forgotten about in the heat of the moment. Embarrassed, I slide my bare foot against the cool tile and squirm away from their watchful eyes.

  “Do you still want to meet Livvy?” I ask Camden.

  “Yeah,” he whispers, taking my hand in his.

  Drowning in the misery and compassion I find in his eyes, I squeeze his hand. Our fingers entwined together feels natural, like an extension of myself. I guide us through my house and breathe deeply when we enter my living room.

  “Livvy,” I call out.

  At the sound of her name, Olivia hops off the couch but not quick enough. I turn my lips down into a frown and look at her while she dances in place with an overabundance of energy.

  “What were you doing?” My lips twitch.

  “Watchin’ TV.” Olivia bounces on the heel of her foot.

  “On your head?” I ask and she nods. “Is that how ladies are supposed to sit?”

  “Ita thinks it’s funny,” she answers me, and I throw my mom a sideways glance as Olivia launches herself into my mom’s arms. My mom holds her close to her body and brushes her lips over Olivia’s hair. Her unmanageable, wild hair. Just like mine.

  Pride spills from my heart every time I see her, and I’m reminded that she’s mine. She was born from a love that lifted me. A love I hunger for. The pain from it’s still visible in the scarring of my heart.

  “Olivia,” my dad says, pulling her into his arms for a hug as well, “we want you to meet someone.”

  My dad gestures to Camden, and Olivia narrows her eyes at him in speculation. Camden stiffens under her perceptive gaze and his throat bobs several times. Nervous hands shove into his front jean pockets and his anxiety reaches me.

  “This is one of your mom’s oldest friends,” my mom explains, placing a hand on Camden’s shoulder. “Her very best friend growing up.”

  Olivia’s face lights up as an innocent smile spreads across her face. She wiggles out of my dad’s arms and runs to Camden, who waits for her on his knees. When Olivia puts her arms around his neck, Camden burrows his face in her hair.

  “You’re Cam,” Olivia confidently tells him.

  My face flushes, my eyes widening in shock. The little brat pays more attention to what I’ve said than I ever realized.

  Camden’s eyes meet mine and he laughs. His laughter flood
s into the room, becoming a living thing that bounces off the walls.

  “I am,” Camden agrees, facing his daughter and the lines of his face soften as contentment gentles his features.

  Heat rises up my neck when he winks at me.

  “Mommy has a picture of you in her room. Wanna see?”

  “Uh…I, um…” I stammer.

  Everyone looks at me, my dad smiling a devilish smile, and they all wait for me to continue.

  My heart stutters. Even after all this time, after all the heartache, I want him with a desperation that possesses me and a ferocity that both terrifies and excites me.

  What was broken could be mended. We could love one another again. We need that love, the vitality of our existence. The only thing that would continue to hurt is if we held back from one another.

  “I have a picture of your mom, too,” Camden whispers into the ensuing silence.

  His fixed gaze meets mine, and I open my mouth in shock.

  “Want to see?”

  Olivia’s head bobs up and down as she rocks on her heels in anticipation. Camden pulls out his wallet, and his fingers explore the crevices for a short moment before he brings out a tattered wallet-sized picture.

  Shifting away from the picture, I close my eyes as small tremors shake through me.

  Olivia giggles when he hands her my picture, but I don’t turn to see which picture he kept.

  Strong hands touch my shoulder and turn me. After a reassuring squeeze, Camden places his hands on either side of my face, brushing his thumbs over my cheeks. In turn, I grip his shoulders, needing to hold on and hoping he won’t let go this time.

  As he leans toward me, the air between us shifts, making me shiver. His hands cup the back of my head, and I tilt upward, anticipation of his silent promise building in my stomach. His mouth, warm and soft, touches mine, kissing me slowly. My chest explodes with a whirlwind of emotion slamming against my rib cage. His body presses against mine, and my fingers roam over his back, feeling his muscles tense under my touch.

  Too quickly, he pulls away. My eyes stay on his as his lips spread into a small smile.

  “I also kept this.” He tucks a piece of paper in my hand.

  Turning my attention to what I’m holding, I open it and blink back tears when the fake airplane ticket I made him for his eleventh birthday stares back at me.