Unfiltered & Unraveled

by Payge Galvin

  When Cam’s head rose, his lips and chin were shiny with my juices. He grinned obscenely, sucking the glaze of arousal from his fingers. I gave his poor, bitten fingers an apologetic kiss and sank back against the towel.

  Sweat cooling on my skin, I collapsed back on the table, panting. Cam laid his cheek against my thigh, his breath tickling the over-sensitized flesh. I threaded my fingers through his hair, almost petting him, because I couldn’t come up with a proper thank you for “orally rocking my freaking world.”

  This was the second time Cam had rocked said world, with no reward in return. And that would not stand. I was a lot of things, but I was not selfish in the sack. Wrapping the sheet around my body, I dragged Cam up onto the table. I grabbed the button of his jeans and popped it, easing the fabric over his hips. I slid down the table so I was eye-level with what was the most beautiful penis I had ever seen – long and thick, with a perfectly shaped little helmet. I’d never actually considered whether genitalia could be attractive before, but I totally understood now why all of those Renaissance sculptors insisted on leaving their subjects naked, even if they were supposed to be dressed for battle.

  He pulled at my shoulders, even as I batted his hands away. “Vi, you don’t have to.”

  Allie and I had taken an oral technique class as a “joke” once, and we’d both gotten pretty good on the demonstration bananas. All of the lessons taught to us by Andre the Blow Job Master flew out of my head as I gave his head an experimental lick. He hissed, and I took him between my lips, fluttering the tip of my tongue against his head as I eased him toward my throat.

  Cam was already breathing hard, palming my cheek as I pulled away and released him. “It’s been a while. Be gentle with me.”

  I pressed my fingers to my lips. My smile may have frightened him a little bit. It should have. He was staring down at me all dazed and adorable. It was possible that this was the only shot I was going to get at this, so I was going to get it right. He moaned as I licked at the fluid seeping from his head. It was faintly bitter, but somehow sweet and uniquely Cam. I licked again, massaging the little knot of flesh at the head with my tongue, then taking him into my mouth as deep as I could. His head nudged at the back of my throat and I drew back, hollowing my cheeks and running my tongue along his length.

  I followed this pattern, over and over, as Cam fisted the sheets with one hand and pressed the other over his mouth. His hips seemed locked into place, as if he was afraid to move them and thrust into my throat. I ran my fingertips over the ridge between his balls, rubbing my thumb around the curve of them. He yelped quietly, bucking his hips and cradling my head in his palm.

  I was making Cam lose control. The very idea had me going wet and slick between my thighs all over again. I laughed, but the sound was muffled by the girth of him. I sucked, nibbled, and licked while he thrust erratically into my mouth. He was trying so hard not to make any noise through his clenched jaw, no matter how I ringed fingers around him, so I very gently rubbed my thumb right under his sac.

  I could feel Cam’s whole body tighten up. He rose off the table with a jerk and spasmed in my mouth, panting and whimpering and dragging his fingers through my hair. His release rippled down my throat in a warm, frantic wave.

  Cam dropped back to the table, practically boneless. I released him with a faint pop and crawled up his body. He looped his arm around me and pulled me against his scarred chest. When he realized where my face was resting, he shifted me so we were on our sides, facing each other.

  “That was …” he huffed. “That was…”

  “Thank you,” I muttered, snuggling into his shoulder. “We should consider that line crossed.”

  “Baby, I crossed that line the minute I met you,” he muttered into my hair.

  I raised my head to stare at him.

  “Inside my own head,” he added.

  Chapter 14

  It took me a day or so to process the (vague, provocative) things Dr. Mueller said during our last session.

  Sitting on my bed, listening to Cynda critique all of the outfits in the latest issue of US Weekly, I contrasted my parents’ actions, Allie’s and my own. While my parents’ responses were structured and rational, Allie’s actually came from a loving place. Allie was the one who found this place for me. Allie drove me here. Sure, Allie’s style of “help” resulted in chaos more often than not, but at least she could claim good intentions. I’m not so sure my parents could do the same.

  I realized that I owed Allie an amends. It was pretty obvious that she didn’t want to see me, given her visit the other day. Or at least, she was strong enough not to see me, and I didn’t want to mess that up for her. I didn’t know if I would be able to say everything I needed to say in person anyway, or even on the phone. Allie was an interrupter. And e-mail seemed too impersonal.

  When we were kids, Allie and I used to pass notes constantly in class. It was the only complaint my teachers had about me. “Violet is a joy to have in class, but she needs to stop passing notes when she thinks I can’t see her” was a sentiment that got me grounded on a regular basis. Still, Allie paid far more attention to the notes than she ever did to books or lectures.

  So to get Allie’s attention, I was going to have to go old school.

  ‡

  I went through eight drafts of my amends letter and I still wasn’t sure about it.

  Dear Allie,

  For a really long time, I was pissed at you for making me come here. In my head, I called you all kinds of names: ‘hypocrite,’ ‘bitch,’ ‘hypocritical bitch’ – not once did I think of you as ‘my friend, Allie.’ And now that I’ve been here for a while and I’ve had a chance to calm down, that makes me so sad. We used to be so close, and I can’t believe we let our problems pull us apart. You’re my friend, Allie. You’ll always be my friend. But I don’t think I’ve been a very good friend to you.

  I owe you an “amends,” but my apology needs to go farther back than my drunk driving arrest. For too long, ever since we were kids, I stepped in and cleaned up your messes, because I thought that’s what good friends do. Instead of letting you take care of yourself, I stepped in and made the problems go away. Because I thought you couldn’t handle it or that you wouldn’t do the job the way I would. So instead of learning from the situation or taking responsibility for your actions, you learned to sit back and let someone else fix the hard stuff. I kept you from growing up. I kept you from learning the lessons that might have prevented a lot of problems, including your drinking. And then I got angry with you for not learning the lessons. I was a shitty friend to you, Allie. I didn’t trust you. Even though you are one of my favorite people on the planet, I didn’t have faith in you. And I hope you can forgive me.

  I’ve learned a lot of things here at rehab, (a lot of them have to do with how to ferment fruit cocktail in your room to make jailhouse wine, but I am trying to forget that ever happened.) Mostly, I’ve learned that I can’t be a fixer any more. Being the fixer sucks. It’s not about being fixed. It’s not about being broken. It’s about finding a balance between the two and finding a way to live with it.

  I love you, Allie

  Your friend,

  Violet

  I folded Allie’s letter into the carefully addressed envelope and dropped it into the outgoing mailbox. I felt better than I had in weeks, buoyant and nearly giddy with the relief of shrugging off the burden of those feelings.

  Well, I was buoyant and giddy until I turned around and found Nurse Sarah standing right behind me.

  “Jeee-sus!” I cried, nearly falling back into the mailbox.

  “Violet, you’re scheduled for equine therapy this afternoon. Come with me.”

  “No, I’m not,” I told her. “Mick said he didn’t need me at the barn until tomorrow.”

  “Are you trying to manipulate the schedule again, Violet?”

  “Again?” I said, shaking my head. “What do you mean, again?”

  “Just come with me, please.” />
  I sighed, “All right. I need to go to my room for my sneakers and sunscreen.”

  “No, it’s not my fault that you’re unprepared. You need to accept the consequences of your choices, Violet.”

  “OK,” I responded through gritted teeth. Mick would send me back to the center when he saw my sandals anyway, so there wasn’t much point in arguing with her.

  Sarah clamped her hand around my arm and practically dragged me out of the rec exit. I jerked my arm out of her grip and she shot me the evil eye. “I don’t know what your deal is, but you don’t have to drag me. I enjoy going to equine therapy. There’s no reason to touch me. Also, is there a reason we’re not taking a golf cart?”

  “I believe in keeping a firm hand with patients, Violet,” she said as we moved swiftly along the trail to the barn. “I don’t believe in coddling. I don’t believe in developing ‘relationships’ with them, unlike some of the therapists.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “What are you talking about?”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  Oh, hell no. She was not going to entrap me into talking about my relationship with Cam by intimidating me and making me nervous. I smiled sweetly, though there was the faintest acidic edge to it. “I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

  “Cam is too soft-hearted for his own good. Like most men, he has a hard time seeing past the poor, pretty princess exterior to the dangerous manipulator underneath. You know exactly what you’re doing, pouting and turning those big brown eyes at him. You made him your little puppet, letting you spend more time at the barn than the other patients, earning extra C-points, getting on the unrestricted track.”

  “Cam didn’t have anything to do with that,” I insisted. “I earned those things.”

  “Oh, sure you did,” she scoffed. “You know exactly what you’re doing, making Cam think that you’re some delicate thing that he has to rescue, when we both know, he doesn’t know anything about you. I’ve looked at your therapy files, Violet. I know you’re not making real progress in your treatment. You haven’t talked about your drinking problem at all. You spend all of your time whining about your parents and your stupid bimbo friend.”

  I expected the people pleaser in me to rise up and take control, to apologize and promise to change until I was sure Sarah wasn’t mad at me anymore. I expected to be uneasy, unable to make eye contact and shrink in on myself. But in that long, awkward silence, I realized I didn’t really give a shit whether Nurse Sarah liked me or not.

  I squared my shoulders, stared her right in the eye and said, “I think that’s Dr. Mueller’s business, not yours.”

  “Well, you made it my business when you decided to drag Cam down with you. We both know you didn’t get sent here without a reason. And we both know that Cam wouldn’t want anything to do with you, if he knew the truth about you. So you need to back off and leave him alone, before you ruin him. Stop distracting him. Let him focus on his patients and his work and the people who really know him.”

  I raised my eyebrow, wondering if somehow, Sarah knew the truth about me. But that would be impossible, unless she happened to know someone else from The Coffee Cave, or Allie had somehow let the information “slip” during her last visit to New Beginnings.

  No. Allie wouldn’t do that. She was a lot of things, but she wasn’t insane. I was letting Sarah psych me out. She was using classic manipulation tactics on me. She didn’t know what happened at The Coffee Cave, and she didn’t know what had happened between me and Cam. And she would not use “I Know What You Did Last Summer” tactics to trick me into saying something incriminating.

  “I don’t know what you think is going on, Sarah, but I don’t think anything I have to say is going to make you feel better,” I told her. “If you have something direct and to-the-point that you would like to say to me, I would be more than happy to talk to you. And if you have concerns that you need to address with Cam, go talk to him about them. But either way, don’t ever use your position as a nurse here to corner me into a conversation like this again. Understand?”

  “I don’t think you understand how things work around here,” she said, her lips curling back from her teeth.

  “What are you going to do?” I sneered. “Take away my dessert privileges? This is a treatment center, not a prison. Now get the fuck out of my face.”

  I turned on my heel and walked toward the treatment center with my head as high and rigid as I could keep it. I listened, for footsteps behind me, to make sure I hadn’t pushed Sarah too far and earned myself a suckerpunch.

  “I’m not dropping this, Violet!” she yelled. “I’m going to talk to Cam!”

  Without looking back at her, I raised my arm and gave her the finger.

  ‡

  By the time I reached the lobby, I was shaking and felt oddly cold, the same sort of sensation I’d felt that night after using the crematory. It was the downward slide after an adrenaline rush. I recognized that now, but I certainly didn’t want to chase after that sensation.

  I ducked into the ladies’ room and splashed water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t believe I’d talked to someone like that, much less an authority figure. I’d gone against every lesson my parents had ever taught me; talking back, making a fuss, being rude and confrontational. And I just didn’t care.

  I was a little pale, but other than that, I was fine. The ceiling hadn’t caved in on me because I was an ungrateful, horrible person. The universe hadn’t stopped spinning. But somewhere inside me, a little lock inside me clicked open.

  For twenty-one years, I’d looked at the world all wrong, through my parents’ eyes. I had to start looking out for what was best for me. I’d been dreading contact with Allie, I realized, which was ridiculous. I knew she was my friend. She loved me enough to bring me here, to shield me from my parents’ irrational demands. How much better would I feel if I was honest with Cam? If I finally told him about everything that brought me here in the first place, the same way he’d shared his deep dark secrets with me? How much happier would I be, knowing that The Coffee Cave incident didn’t change the way Cam felt about me?

  Since I was on an honest streak, I ran down the hallway, across the lawn to staff residential wing at the back of the property. I scanned the list of residents near the elevator and found Cameron’s apartment number.

  Fortunately, I didn’t run into any other staff members as I made my way to Cameron’s apartment. He answered his door in his bare feet, looking tired, but, oh, so very jump-worthy in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. His eyes went wide and he ducked his head out into the hall to look for witnesses. “Violet, are you all right?”

  I nodded, even as he was pulling me through the door and closing it behind me. “I need to tell you something.”

  Chapter 15

  Cam was leaning against his headboard, trying to absorb everything I’d just dropped on him, while I perched on the edge of the mattress, ready to bolt if he reacted badly. But Cam’s expression was completely blank as he said, “So, you were a material witness to a shooting in self-defense, and rather than calling the cops, you chose to use your family’s crematory equipment to dispose of the body. And then you took his drug money.”

  I winced. “It sounds really bad when you put it like that.”

  “Did I leave anything out?” he asked dryly.

  I nodded. “No. I can’t explain why I did it. Everybody just seemed so sure that was what we should do, and it seemed to make sense at the time. Allie probably would have gone to jail. And that poor football player would have lost his scholarship. And that douchebag Cunningham kid was just so persuasive about his dad getting into trouble if we called the cops.”

  “Joe Cunningham?” he asked. I nodded. “He is a douchebag.”

  “Yup.” I stood up. “I’ve thought about this for a long time, and I’m not planning to go to the authorities. I admit that my choices were bad, but I d
on’t think what we did was wrong. That barista, Sugar, was in trouble, and the girl who shot the drug dealer did the right thing to save Sugar. And the drug dealer was obviously into some really bad stuff. I’m sorry he died, but I’m not willing to go to jail over someone like that. So if you have a problem with me not reporting it, you need to tell me now.”

  Cam tucked his hand into mine. “I’m not happy about this, obviously. I wish you’d made different choices. But I suppose I can’t really judge, considering what my family did to cover up the wreck,” he said. “And honestly, this isn’t the worst thing I’ve heard confessed. You were scared. You were intoxicated. And you’re young, Violet. You made a stupid mistake. I hope that the next time you’re in a situation like that, you’ll make better choices.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to run into too many more situations where illegally incinerating a body is an issue. If so, I am going to have to seriously re-evaluate my choices in life.”

  “That’s not funny.” He pulled me into his lap.

  “So, I’m a mess,” I said, laughing weakly.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “Yes, you are. But you’re a beautiful mess. And I think I could fall in love with you.”

  “No, please, don’t let the ‘I love you’ come after my drug dealer-burning confession.” I groaned, burying my face in his neck.

  “Well, timing has never been our strong suit. And I only said, ‘I could be.’ So there’s still time to salvage the moment.”

  “I could be falling in love with you, too,” I sighed.

  He kissed me, laughing against my lips. I leaned forehead against his. It was impossible. It was insane. But I was falling . . . maybe even had fallen in love with this man. And he accepted me, even the parts that were pretty messed up, and he was falling right along with me. And that was some sort of small miracle.