Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1)

by Yessi Smith

  “What’d you ask for?” I ask.

  “I can’t tell you.” She angles her face toward mine, her nose scrunching up at my question, as her eyes glint in merriment. “Then, it won’t come true.” A small blush creeps over her neck to her cheeks.

  “You and your mom.” I laugh, kissing the top of her head. “You two are a lot alike.”

  “Mom loves you, you know?”

  “I love her, too.”

  “And me?” Her eyes peek at me from the corners, and I lick my lips while I collect my thoughts.

  Echoes of my past fade to today, my load constantly narrowing my life. As Olivia’s small body curls into me, my vision clears and stretches along with the sky. In every direction. Unconfined and limitless. Unconditioned to the hard nature I’ve harbored for far too long.

  “And you, Livvy. I fell in love with you the minute I saw you. And I keep falling every second I spend with you.”

  “Even though you don’t know me that good?” Her eyes well up and my heart crashes against my ribs.

  “I know you well enough.” I touch her nose with my finger. “I know you like chocolate, that you help your mom out around the house and make her laugh. I know you make me laugh, too. You can run really fast and spin better than me. And I know you have a bouquet of lilies to put in your room when we get home.”

  Her eyes grow big, and she scrambles to her feet, pulling my hand up with her.

  “You got me flowers, Cam? For real?” She jumps in place, her face illuminating with the simplicity of her pleasure. “We need to put them in water. They can’t die. Let’s go, Cam.” She tugs on my hand. “Hurry, let’s go!”

  “Okay.” I laugh. “Okay.”

  Hand in hand, we walk away from the playground—Olivia holding her bouquet of flowers while I cling on to her mom’s. A terrain of love spreads before me as I listen to Olivia chatter about the flowers I bought her. How I’m the first person to ever buy her flowers. And I know…I know it in my achy body that I want to be the first of many good things in her life.

  The wind continues to play with her hair, leaving her cheeks flush from the rush of cool air and the short walk to Yanelys’s house. New dreams and new thoughts break into my heart when I walk through the door to find Yanelys sleeping on the couch with a paperback resting on her chest.

  With a slight tilt of her sweet head, Olivia smiles and asks, “Will you put my flowers in a vase for me?”

  My heart stutters in my chest, my throat growing thick. My charming girl, a beautiful blessing from a god I thought had left me. I nod once, knowing I don’t stand a chance. Already, she has me eating out of her hand.

  “Thank you, Cam.” Olivia’s hands clasp together behind my neck after I’ve filled a vase with water and put her flowers in them. “I love them. I love you,” she whispers.

  A piece of my broken heart slides into place, and for a fleeting moment, I’m complete.

  TWENTY

  CAMDEN

  There’s a place beyond us, beyond the sky and earth, and even beyond heaven that stretches infinitely, not allowing any of our yesterdays to hurt us. Where only we exist. Where the only thing that counts is us and our heartbeats thumping as one.

  Yanelys’s fingertips run circles over my heart as we sit on her bed facing each other with our foreheads touching. My hands comb through her hair, and she exhales her sweet breath on my face. Inches away from her, my lips linger over her mouth. She parts her own lips, inhaling and exhaling me.

  Quiet, so quiet, the room stands still, and I hear the hope her breaths whisper across my face. Through jumbled nerves, I move my lips closer to hers, my eyes trained on them. Plump and soft, they quiver in anticipation.

  My heartbeat rises but then collapses when Yanelys pulls away.

  “Yan?”

  “We slept together last night,” she says on a rough exhale of air. “But that’s all we did. Sleep. I want more, Cam. I really do. But I want more than just sex, too.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and when I don’t respond, she closes them.

  “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

  She does, and I’m taken aback by the love shining from them. Or maybe it’s my own love I see reflected from her soulful brown eyes.

  “It could never be just sex with you.”

  “It was though. Maybe you didn’t mean for it to be. I know you thought you were protecting me, but when you left, you turned the most indescribable and delicate moment of my life into ugly sex. I can’t go through that again.” Her tongue sneaks out of her mouth to wet her lips as her eyes skirt away from my face. “I don’t think I could survive it a second time.”

  Guilt braids itself around my conscience, fear and doubt tangling with its tendrils. Silence thickens the air, separating us, when all I want is to keep her as close to me as possible.

  “Forgive me, Yan.” My eyes search hers, my jumbled nerves running amok when she doesn’t reply. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for making my love something ugly that you’re afraid of. I’m not promising you an eternity because you wouldn’t believe me. But I will spend every second of every day showing you all the love of my forever.”

  Her body draws closer to mine, her apprehension clearing and making room for the hope that’s been burning in her soul since we were kids. Joy teases her lips as she glides a gentle hand over my cheek. She leans into my face and our lips touch. A wave of passion builds in my core, and I slip my tongue across her lips. My body presses further onto her so that her back rests on the bed. She arches when I lift the thin fabric of her pajama shirt and trail soft kisses over her curves.

  When I remove her pajama shorts and panties, I place a gentle kiss on the scar from her C-section, and she exhales a sharp breath, our abandoned hearts finding one another within the whirlwind of lust and love.

  “I’ve only ever been with you, Yan.” The admission shocks her, and I close my eyes, hoping to hear her utter the same words even though I know I don’t deserve them. “It’s always only been you.”

  “It’s always only been you, too, Cam,” she whispers, her breath falling across my cheek and lips, warming me from the outside in.

  The pressure in my chest intensifies, but I pull away, worry drawing my eyebrows together. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  “It’s okay.” She exhales heavily, and I shake my head, pulling further away from her. “I’m on the pill. It’s okay.” Her hands fist my shirt, and I willingly let her pull me back to her.

  Piece by piece, I discard my clothes and throw them to the floor. Our heated tongues meet when I go to her again. Her body moves beneath me, urgent, letting me in. I align myself with her opening and slip inside her. Her small gasp breaks our kiss, but she pulls my face back to hers, our bodies molding against one another. Slowly, I sway my hips back and forth, not wanting to lose control and jostle her sacred heart.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispers, her lips moving against mine.

  My fingers stroke the stray stands of her hair from her forehead while her nails dig into my shoulder. I’m throbbing with need. My hand and then my mouth travel to her breast, savoring her, as she consumes me. My eyes close as I listen to the soft moans slipping from her lips. Tension builds inside of me, and my thrusts become more erratic. I open my eyes to meet hers as she pulls me closer to her, trusting me, as her body trembles.

  Our eyes hold, and I see her. My reason, my purpose.

  “Cam,” she moans my name. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

  Like a hundred orgasms, her words hit me, rocking me, as my motions become harder, faster. Her hips move with mine, a synchronized dance of love and lust and fire and passion.

  Reaching between her breasts, I place my hand on her chest and lean into her, so my lips caress her right ear.

  “I need you, sweetheart. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. I love you.”

  Undone, she embraces me, our hearts beating against one another. She clings on to me, our limbs mixing with one another. Sile
ntly, I promise us a future where our pasts readjust, making us inseparable.

  After she reaches her peak, my name crosses her lips in a frenzy of kisses that she places against my jaw. As I lose myself in her, with her, because of her, my ecstasy rises in perfect waves. I crash into her, Yanelys leading the way with her light. Seconds expand into a beautiful timelessness, and all I see is Yanelys, her bright brown eyes, her alluring smile, her tender heart.

  Morning light spills from the shades, its radiance showering over the soft blue covers of the bed. The warm glow of Olivia nestled between Yanelys and me puts my sleeping dreams to rest and brings me to a reality that makes the everlasting darkness of my soul disappear.

  Finding my love in them, I reach over Olivia, who snuck into our bed after midnight, and trace a finger over Yanelys’s arm. In her sleep she murmurs, filling my voids, making living less terrifying.

  A new day, a new hope.

  The recognizable tremble of my fingers reminds me of my addiction, crushing my hope to the destiny I paved when I caved to my destruction, believing it would cure my every pain. Stumbling out of bed, I cross Yanelys’s room to the bathroom where I hid the pills Pastor Floyd had given me in a small sandwich bag and then placed in the air vent. I stand on the edge of the tub and slide the vent cover. I reach my hand in there until I feel the bag and then pull it out. Taking a small pill in one hand, I slide the bag back into its hiding place and step off the tub.

  With closed eyes, I whisper a prayer, my faith crying, my spirit dropping. Looking forward, I put the pill on my tongue, swallowing the emptiness, as my gaze meets my reflection in the mirror. Disgust builds up in my heart, the embers of my hatred burning my skin.

  When the door opens, I turn toward it and sink into Yanelys’s arms when she comes to me. Her head rests over my racing heart, and she squeezes my lean frame closer to her.

  “Livvy’s going to ask you for more chocolate chip pancakes.” Her eyes, twinkling with happiness, meet mine when she leans her head back. “You’re going to say no.”

  “What?” My eyebrows shoot upward. “And disappoint my daughter?”

  “Yep.” She nods her head. “It’s a school day, and I have a strict no-sugar rule on school days.”

  “Oh.” I lean down and nip her bottom lip. “That’s why you have a hidden stash of Lucky Charms, huh?”

  “I don’t go to school, so that rule doesn’t apply to me.”

  Her laughter brings out mine, misting over the ugliness that clung to me moments ago.

  “You always find a loophole.”

  I rub my nose over the crevice of her throat as she brings her arms around my neck. Her goodness fills the air, taking away the tension that threatens to linger. Not wanting to break the illusion, I pretend that I’m okay. That I don’t already wish I’d taken two pills instead of one.

  Taking ahold of Yanelys’s hand, I guide us to the kitchen and take over breakfast, chopping onions and bell peppers for an egg omelet. I pretend I don’t hurt, that the wars I lost haven’t left battle scars on my heart. I pretend I’m a warrior, that my hidden rage is locked away. I hide it all with the calmness and smiles that quickly fade away when I’m alone.

  My emotions churn, anxiety taking precedence in the pit of my stomach. The disquiet rumble of needing more pricks at my skin, coiling my muscles.

  I steady my breath and listen to my girls argue over the shoes Olivia wants to wear to school.

  After whisking four eggs, I pour them into the frying pan and sprinkle the chopped onions and bell peppers into the middle along with a few leaves of spinach and shredded cheese.

  “That’s a big omelet,” Olivia says from behind me, peeking at the pan that’s slowly cooking one side of the omelet.

  A smile spreads across my face when I notice Olivia is wearing the white shoes she insisted would go perfectly with her white-and-pink dress.

  “It’s a monster omelet.” I wink at her, making her giggle.

  Pretenses fade away, replaced with the darkness that floats into my soul, when I spot Santiago and Carmen coming into the kitchen. Olivia bounces toward her grandparents, a flurry of exuberant innocence, while my sickness claws at me, edging me toward the tranquility I can only find with another pill.

  My eyes meet Santiago’s, and he slightly nods his head, leaving the kitchen and heading to the back patio with two steaming coffee travel mugs in his hands.

  “I have to talk to your dad,” I tell Yanelys, who takes over the stove after planting a kiss on the side of my lips.

  When I sit next to Santiago on Yanelys’s wicker chair, he hands me the coffee mug that warms my skin and a pill that ices my veins.

  Weak, pathetic. A constant circle of doubt, survival, hatred, I surrender to the angry daze of my reality.

  And I wait for the sadness to quiet so that, for just a little while, I can forget what it feels like.

  TWENTY-ONE

  YANELYS

  The way he hides his pain only intensifies my need to protect him. From himself, from his past. I see it but can’t reach it. Can’t reach him. So, I hold him closer, squeeze him tighter.

  He scans his eyes over the auditorium, sweat building on the base of his neck, his muscles twitching. His need to leave the school we had gone to as kids grows inside of him, but still, he stays because he promised Olivia he’d be here, that he’d never miss a single one of her shows or school events.

  “They don’t start for another fifteen minutes.” I squeeze his hand. “Why don’t we go outside and get some air?”

  He nods once, his eyes unbridled when they land on me, and he licks his dry lips.

  “We’ll be back,” I tell my dad whose wary eyes track us as we stand up to leave.

  Through the halls, I try to keep pace with Camden’s hurried strides. Our loud footsteps fall on walls littered with school-age drawings, echoing down the long hallway. His hasty, jerky movements unnerve me, but I keep my hand tucked in his, holding on so that I don’t lose him entirely. When he opens the door, cool air greets us, and the scent of fall hits my nose.

  “Cam,” I call to him when he continues to walk away from the school and toward my car, his worried past trailing behind his heels, the expansive blue sky stretching before us. “Come back to me,” I whisper, tugging on his hand.

  His body stills, and when he spins around, our eyes meet. His are clear blue. Raw. Damaged. Pained.

  He crushes his lips to my mouth, and my lips part from the force of his kiss. His tongue dances with mine, unyielding, as he pours his desperation into me. His fingers dig into my shoulders as mine fist in his hair, tugging, pulling, demanding even more. On a painful sigh, Camden pulls away from me, expelling a heavy breath over my face. Tormented eyes seek mine, and I place a hand over his cheek, his sadness washing over me, as I search his face for the boy I love.

  “Where are you, Cam?”

  He drops his hands from my shoulders, his gaze scouring the ground around us. Even in the cool air, his sweat continues to drip from his forehead.

  “Nowhere. I’m nowhere, Yan.” Blurred bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I don’t exist.” Grief-stricken, his tone is raspy and barely audible.

  At his words, my entire body goes up in flames and I hope the burning light in my soul will help him find his way back to me and away from the memories of his tormented youth.

  Moving my hand from his cheek, I place my hands around his neck and bring him closer to me. Our bodies flush against one another, I feel the pounding of his battered heart against my own chest. A cold wisp of air surrounds us, and I bury my face into his neck, wanting to tell him just how good and beautiful he is. How he doesn’t have to run away anymore.

  “You’re home, baby. You’re home,” I whisper, desperation edging my voice. “I’m your home, remember?”

  “Yeah.” Agitation coils through him, making the muscles on his face twitch.

  He steps away from my embrace, brushing his hands over his face and squeezing his eyes shut, staying that way for only
a second before he opens them to look back at me.

  “You, me, and Livvy. Okay?” I take a step forward and meet his frown with a gentle smile.

  The blue dimming, his eyes are like an endless meadow of infinite fear. I hold his gaze, a prisoner to the sadness behind them.

  “You don’t have to stay to watch the show,” I finally say, sad for our daughter and the disappointment she’ll feel when she doesn’t see him in the crowd. “I’ll record it, and we can watch it on the TV back home.”

  “I promised Livvy.” His frown deepens.

  “You can make it up to her with chocolate chip pancakes for dinner.”

  “No!” he shouts, anger rushing through him.

  I startle a few steps away from him.

  “I need to be here for Livvy, for you, for myself. I can’t let my parents continue running my life. Once, just once, I need to win.”

  “Okay.” I nod, again putting my arms around his neck and holding on to him, hoping he’ll hold me back.

  “They took my childhood,” he whispers into the crevice of my neck, “scarred it so that the weight of it still pushes me down. And every time I get this little glimmer of hope and I start to feel happy, they rip it away from me. Being with you makes it hurt a little less. Since we were kids, you’ve made living hurt a little less.” A small sob escapes from his throat, and I stroke the back of his head, my fingers combing through his unruly hair. “Don’t make me do this by myself.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Framing his face with my hands, I make him look back at me. “Never, baby. I’d never leave you.”

  “You say that now…” He trails off, averting his eyes away from me.

  “I say that now and tomorrow and a hundred tomorrows from now.”

  His chest lifts on a slow inhale, pain taking over his features as his jaw clenches and unclenches. Emotions spill from him, his silence thickening the air between us.

  “Being back at this school brings back memories,” he finally says on a broken whisper. “Good and bad, but so much bad that I feel myself choking on it.”