by Stacey Lynn
She kept speaking like I hadn’t tried to stop her. “But you’re forgetting something, the most important part of everything you’ve experienced.”
At my silence, she walked to me quickly, moving in front of me before I could skitter backward, away from her kindness and her compassion and everything else I admired but that was making my skin itch.
“You’re forgetting that you survived,” she stated, and curled her hands around my shoulders. “You’re forgetting that in all of your embarrassment in thinking that you had done something to gain Evan’s attention, that you did something to make him think you wanted him in that way when you couldn’t have because you were just a child, you’re forgetting that you survived. You fought and you made it and you were free, and because of you…because of your willingness to help the police, he’s never been able to hurt another person.”
“Stop.” Every word lashed through my already broken heart.
It had been another week since I hadn’t talked to David. Another week where I fell asleep every night wishing I could be the woman he needed, a woman who could return everything to him that he gave so freely.
Every time Chelsea spoke, my chest ached until it felt like my heart could launch right out of me.
“Don’t you get it, Camden? You have nothing to feel ashamed about. That man was a predator and you were a child, and when you could have surrendered to him, you not only fought back, you won.”
My body trembled. “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?” Her hands squeezed. She shook me like she was trying to knock sense into me. “You didn’t stab a man who tried to rape you? You didn’t call for help and tell the police everything? You didn’t meet with lawyers afterward, several times, in order to ID Evan and then sit there reliving every moment you went through in order to put him behind bars?”
“My mom—”
“No. Don’t you get it? You did it. You survived and you fought and yet somehow, you refuse to see how absolutely amazing you are. How strong you are, how you come from a shitty, shitty trailer and what some people would think was no hope for a future, and you’ve carved it yourself, with blood and sweat and determination, and you’ve surrounded yourself with a group of friends who love you more than you can possibly imagine, and it’s in part because we see you. All of you. After we learned what happened to you even if we weren’t supposed to know, and every day since then…we’ve been honored to call you a friend.”
My body turned to ice and I stood there, unable to speak.
Chelsea didn’t give me the chance, anyway. “Don’t you see? David sees everything, absolutely everything in you, and him knowing the truth and all your fears will only make him love you more.”
“You suck,” I sobbed, wiping tears from my cheeks, but grinning.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t let me feel sorry for myself, and I’m done watching you do the same. You’re better than this.”
Sweet love to tough love. She pulled me to her chest and hugged me tight, wrapped warmth around my body and it seeped deep inside, warming me in all the places I’d long since thought were dead and buried.
“I hate you,” I muttered, my voice muffled by her hair and the strength of her embrace.
“Yeah, but you love me a little bit, too, so I’ll think about that part first.” She pulled back and smiled. “Now, tomorrow we’re having Suzanne’s bridal shower at my place, so I expect to see you there and I expect you to show up happy and smiling and moving on.”
“I will. Thanks, Chelsea. If I had known you knew…You’re right, it wasn’t about trust.”
She shushed me. “I know. But now you know that there’s nothing left to hide. Not from me, from Paige…or from David.”
“He’ll be there.” The shower was a couples shower. I was certain the men would mostly sit out on the back deck, grilling and drinking beers, while we sipped on punch and showered Suzanne with enough gifts to fill her house with piles of baby paraphernalia.
“And he’s looking forward to seeing you. Trust me, he’s a hot mess, too.”
My heart hurt at her words, knowing I was hurting him when I’d never wanted to. For the last two weeks, I’d been a zombie. I hadn’t found comfort in Sal’s cribbage games or banana bread. I hadn’t found a new job yet. Learning David was just as miserable didn’t make me happy; it made me ache.
When I climbed into bed that night, I pulled a pillow close to me, inhaling the scent of his cologne, and for the first night in weeks, I didn’t fall asleep with tears in my eyes, but with hope blossoming deep in my heart.
Chapter 32
David
One eye on the grill, another on the front door, I was barely paying attention to the company around me.
Fall was hitting hard and fast. The heat from the grill was barely enough to warm our bones as I sat outside Chelsea’s small house with Lucas, Jackson, Aidan, Tyson, and Declan. We were all there against our wishes, but I gave Jackson credit for actually acting excited about being at the baby shower for his wife.
She’d insisted he see the presents when she opened them instead of unloading them from her car afterward.
Based on the size of the growing pile in Chelsea’s living room, I figured the reason the shower was co-ed was that the women knew all of us would help haul that crap into a vehicle and into Suzanne and Jackson’s house afterward. There was way more shit than would fit into Suzanne’s Camry.
Camden hadn’t arrived yet, although every other woman was inside, sipping fruit punch or mimosas. My eye on the door was a laser, waiting for a glimpse of her.
Starving for it. I’d hardly slept in days, maybe weeks, since I dropped her off at her house.
But I needed to know she would come to me, that she’d trust me. I couldn’t be the only one fighting for a relationship, even though I still felt like an asshole for pushing her so hard.
“I was almost raped!”
That word. Fury still built like a tremor inside my bones, slamming into me like a tidal wave every time I saw the anguished expression, the way her face had crumpled quickly followed by collapsing knees when she’d shouted it.
“You looking like you want to strangle someone isn’t going to make Camden come to you, you know.”
I ground my teeth at Declan’s words and faced him.
Whoever had hurt her, I wanted to kill him. I’d been trained to save lives. Bring people back from the dead. I wanted to slam a scalpel into whoever had hurt her, whoever had damaged her. Then I wanted to save him, heal him…and hurt him all over again. I’d thought of a thousand ways to hurt the bastard who’d tried to rape her.
“She’s not even here.”
“She will be,” Aidan said, sliding into a metal lawn chair across from me. “Chelsea said she promised she’d be here.”
Movement inside grabbed my attention and, like the starving man that I was, I leaped from my chair as Camden appeared.
Auburn hair curled and flowing over her shoulders. Creamy sweater that went past her hips to her thighs. A long, heavy necklace that settled into the space between her full breasts. Navy leggings tucked into heeled boots that came almost to her knees. Everything about her, I noticed in a moment. The bags she lugged in, two in her hands, one under arm.
Help her. Stay. Mine. Wait.
I gripped the beer bottle tighter in my hand. My other hand curled into a fist and flexed. Contradiction was a bitch. The need to go to her, comfort her, apologize. Tuck my nose into the hollow of her throat and inhale her scent. Wait for her to come to me.
Tension pulsed hot and heavy inside me, rolling out in waves until I knew the moment she knew I was watching her.
Long lashes on alabaster skin fluttered and her gaze met mine. Shiny pink lips parted and I was done for.
I loved her, loved everything about her. From the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, as if she still wasn’t comfortable with it brushing her skin. The way she easily smiled at Chelsea, wrapped her in a tight embrace after Chelsea took her gifts fr
om her hands. How she tossed her head back and laughed at something Paige had said. The way every time she moved a step farther inside the house…closer to me and too damn far away…her eyes met mine with each fleeting glance she tried to hide from me.
I saw all of her. From every wounded, scared piece of her that was all bubble wrapped for her protection to the love she shined on everyone else she met. She had so much love to give, yet was so reluctant to receive it.
Her mysteries had drawn me to her. Her vulnerability set me on fire for her.
I swallowed audibly. Forgot the men who were around me. Watching me? Who gave a crap? She turned me inside out, into a creepy stalker, scowling as a blush crept up her cheeks at something Chelsea whispered in her ear.
About me? Please…yes…let that heated skin be for me. All for me.
I was going crazy.
A hand clamped to my shoulder and I was jerked back. Aidan laughed, loud and boisterous, when he saw my expression. One of pain? One of love? One of what the fuck have I done by insisting she come to me?
“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, his hand shaking me, knocking things loose. Putting things back together. I no longer knew anything but that I was a mess without her. “You’ve got it so fucking bad. Welcome to the club, man.”
My nose twitched as I breathed heavily. I just wanted a taste, needed to see how she was.
After the party. I wouldn’t ruin this for Suzanne or Jackson, who, when I looked at him, was watching me with intensity. Guarding me, testing me…examining to see if I was good enough.
I wasn’t. Camden and I were a freaking mess apart. Individually, we had a lot of shit to figure out. Together, I knew we’d conquer anything. If I hadn’t screwed everything up.
If she could handle being with the man who would someday run McGregor Motors. Because I’d done it. I’d gone to the office last week, stepped inside Grant’s office, toured the building, clapped hands with men who had known me since I played pee-wee football.
And I’d felt at home. Back to exactly where I’d known I belonged since the first time I walked into that building, holding my mom’s hand, my dad’s face beaming with pride when we’d surprised him for lunch on a day off from school.
Everything settled into my chest that day and soon, I’d return. The prodigal son. The lost sheep.
Who gave a fuck about labels? None of it meant shit if I didn’t have Camden to come home to after a day of work. If I didn’t have her silky skin next to me, behind me, beneath me…
Hell. I was getting hard just thinking of the possibilities. The things I still wanted to do to her.
A door sliding open jarred my attention and I jerked to it…hoping.
Deflategate had nothing on me when all I saw was Paige. “Boys…present time.”
She sang the words, excitement ringing loud and clear in her lyrical voice.
Like pigs to a slaughter, every one of us groaned as we walked single file to our doom. To diapers and tiny outfits and swings and breast pumps. I shuddered and followed the rest of the men, hanging back when they went to their women.
I searched for Camden first, unable to help myself, for another glance of her.
Her eyes met mine when I entered the room. Her hands went to her hair, brushing it off her shoulders. Exposing her neck, and I wanted my lips on that neck again.
A faint pink crept up her neck to her cheeks. I followed the wave of heat on her skin knowing it was me, from so far away, making her feel that.
Her lips parted. No sound came out. A simple hi mouthed in my direction. A flicker of a finger wave just above her waist.
She might as well have told me she loved me. Two little letters. One simple word.
A fucking declaration of love if I’d ever heard one.
I pressed for more, scrubbed a hand down my scruffy face, and wished I would have shaved. She liked my smoothed cheeks. I miss you, I mouthed back.
Her lashes fluttered, long and thick. She nodded, like she’d known that anyway, and stepped back, turning to Chelsea.
Metal fork on glass tinkled through the air and Chelsea raised a glass of champagne. “Let’s get this baby party started!”
—
It was hell. So close and yet so far away. I clung to her timid hi like it was a lifeline and tried to enjoy myself, but who was I kidding? Sitting next to Declan and Trina on a couch while all the women oohed and ahhed and cooed over every tiny, pale-blue and -green outfit along with every crazy baby-rearing device to known to man was a certain hell no man should suffer.
Where had we gone so wrong?
Every time Camden shifted, I noticed. Every push of hair behind her ear, ankle crossing and recrossing, every laugh she made, and every clap of her hands and squeal of excitement cemented one thing.
I wanted her knocked up. Mine. In a home we bought for us and with the largest rock I could find on her finger.
She had made me crazy.
I didn’t care.
As the shower finally came to an end, she bent down and began scooping up wrapping paper. Wadded it into balls and tossed it in garbage bags while Chelsea, sweet and good and kind Chelsea, turned into a sergeant, barking orders at everyone with a dick. She directed us with precision, and by the time the last present was loaded, the living room was spotless.
“You taking off?” I asked Jackson, shaking his hand as he met me at the door.
“Yeah, man. Thanks for all this. Suzanne can’t wait to get home and start putting it all away.”
Lindsay had gone a bit ballistic when she was pregnant, too. I was still in school, too young to understand, but I knew bridezillas had nothing on an expectant, nesting mom.
“Good luck.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “And congratulations, again.”
He accepted my thanks and met Suzanne at her car. He opened the door and waited while she slid into the seat, her belly hitting the steering wheel. But that smile he shot her, the way he laughed with her as she probably moaned about the size of her belly, then reached out and tenderly rubbed her swollen midsection…
Damn, I wanted that.
I hung back longer than I should have, pretending to wait for Tyson and Blue to leave, but really I was stalling. Waiting for a moment alone, when she walked into the kitchen.
By herself.
I stopped in the entryway, not to give her space, but to appreciate the most spectacular view of her ass, curved and tight in those leggings, her sweater riding up a bit as she bent over, putting away leftover food in the fridge.
She closed the door and turned, jumping back when she saw me.
I raised my eyes to meet hers, but it was clear where I’d been looking.
“Hey,” she said. She cleared her throat and wiped her hand down her side. “Hi, David.”
I crossed my arms over my chest for no other reason than that I had to hold onto something, and it couldn’t be her. “How are you?”
Her tongue swiped across her bottom lip, making it glisten.
My dick pressed against the zipper of my jeans like I was a sex addict.
“Okay.” She blinked harshly and nibbled on her cheek. I thought it was going to be all she said and the whisper of defeat, of loss, slithered into my skin.
“Okay.” I stepped back. Maybe she needed more time. Or maybe by not fighting hard enough, I’d pushed her away.
I went to turn when she said my name, broken and hoarse like it pained her to call for me.
I stopped and looked at her over my shoulder. Waited. One breath. Then two.
It felt endless. Her fingers, long and slim, their nails tipped with a deep red color, tapped mindlessly against her legs. The tips of her fingers brushed down her leggings, right along the length where I knew her scar was. A silent song played while she took a step forward. Toward me. Yes. Please. Closer.
“I was twelve and he was my mom’s boyfriend.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I lost it when I was twelve.
“How’d you get
your scar?”
“Accident when I was twelve.”
I had already figured that out, but the fury slammed into my chest again. “I want to kill him.”
“Hard to do,” she said, almost a smile tugging her lips, “when he’s in prison for another twenty years.” She blinked again, looking over my shoulder. “I wasn’t the first.”
“You fought.” Because she was a fighter. A hider, a runner, a list-maker, and a friend, but most of all, a fighter.
“I survived,” she said.
I deduced the rest. “But you stopped living.”
Fingertips tapped on the marble counter and a smile finally stretched her lips. It was sad but there, and I’d take it. Remember it forever. That one smile, the opening she was giving me now. It was everything I needed. I closed the space, walked around the counter and couldn’t even remember moving but I was in front of her, close enough to touch. I didn’t.
We were in someone else’s house. Once I started, I didn’t think I could stop. Wouldn’t want to stop. Vaguely, voices rang in the distance, soft and muted as if they were whispering, or hiding from us. I didn’t care. Let them.
“I guess I didn’t realize I’d done that, but yeah.”
“I still want to kill him. Have thought of a thousand ways to hurt the man who hurt you.”
Her throat bobbed and she nodded. Like she’d thought the same thing but was too kind to admit it.
“I like order,” she said. “I like my lists and plans, and it’s the only way…” She inhaled a breath and, damn, I wanted her in my arms. I wanted to comfort her while she settled and calmed. “Afterward, it was the only way I knew how to move on, by planning everything and staying safe and guarded.” She laughed, shaking her head. It was beautiful and tortured and I wanted to stop her, but I needed her to continue more than I needed my next breath. “And you, you push. You throw me into oceans and off cliffs and out of planes, and you take all my plans and lists and crumple them into balls and light them on fire, making them vanish.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Not really. I wanted her open and honest, not to throw away years of therapy.
