Unfiltered & Unraveled

by Payge Galvin

  “You know what I can’t help but notice?” I asked, straddling his hips. “We’re on a bed. We’ve never been on a bed together. We’ve been on a tack room table. We’ve been on a massage table. But never a bed.”

  “You know, you really are very perceptive,” he said, nodding as he pulled me in front of him for a long, soft kiss.

  The kiss deepened, wet and open and slow. I realized that this was it. After weeks of building tension, I was finally going to unravel all of Cam’s layers and see him laid bare. I pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, shimmying out of my own jeans and shirt as we rolled back on the bed. I stared down at him and very thoroughly, very deliberately, traced each of his scars with my lips. He nodded, accepting the gesture, and pulling me closer.

  I dropped back to my knees, yanking open his jeans and pulling them down his thighs. I made his hips jerk as I pulled him down the bed. His eyes went wide as I crawled over him until I was straddling his thighs. He was hard and leaking, already soaking through the cotton of his Jockeys. I gave him a filthy little smile before leaning down and pressing my lips to that spreading damp spot, mouthing the head of his dick through the material.

  In a move so practiced you would have thought we’d been at this for years, he slid his hands under my arms and dragged me up to eye level while rolling me on to my back. He nudged my panties down to my ankles, letting me wrap my legs around his waist as he leaned far over the mattress to the nightstand to fish a condom out of the drawer. I smiled, closing my teeth around his nipple as his hands worked between us, rolling on the latex. He hissed, and I gave the other side the same treatment, just for good measure.

  I dragged my fingers through his hair as he licked and kissed his way down my belly, before planting a kiss just above my mound. I melted back against the mattress, anticipation thrilling up my spine, as his lips ghosted over my wet pussy. He rose to his knees and I grunted in frustration.

  Laughing, he slid his palms over my thighs and wrapped them around his waist. His hand slipped up my torso to my jaw, keeping my eyes on his as he thrust inside me. I hissed as my body stretched to accommodate him, clutching at his arms as he gave an experimental roll of the hips. I locked my legs around him, pressing my heels against his ass to urge him to move. He looked almost pained as he braced one hand against the headboard and the other under my hip.

  “Oh, God,” I gasped as he ground against me, applying glorious friction against my clit with every movement. His cock seemed to touch every important spot inside of me, especially that sweet little patch of nerves he grazed every time he withdrew. I could see him, slick and wet and hard, before he rocked forward. The sight had my nipples going hard.

  His thrusts were controlled and smooth, and I just couldn’t have that. I rolled us over, propping myself up on his shoulders while my hips hovered over him. I sank down on his cock, marveling at the difference in sensation.

  “Come on, gorgeous,” he panted, wiggling his hips. “I want to see you come all over me.”

  I nodded, rising up and down, working to find the right angle. I was suddenly very glad for the new-found strength in my thighs. Cam palmed my breasts, looking very pleased with the sight above him. One hand trailed down my stomach, and he rested his palm over my mound, gently working his thumb around my clit. The faster I moved, the faster he circled his thumb, and a beautiful ache began building below my belly.

  I whimpered, my hips jerking, as I chased the stimulation of his hand against me. He pulled me down to kiss me. The angle changed again and he thrust up, swiping against my sweet spot over and over. I shook, crying out against his mouth as that pressure built into a dying sun of sensation. Everything seemed to stop at once, and then I exploded, arching up out of his arms and crying out, “Cam!”

  My inner muscles fluttered and clenched around him and his face contorted into the pleasure-pain of release. His arm tightened around my back as he buried his mouth against my breast to muffle what sounded like, “YES! YES! YES!”

  He dropped back on the bed, his chest sweaty and heaving. I made a mournful little noise when I rose up and let him slide out of me, then flopped right next to him. He scooted over on the mattress and kissed my temple, lacing his fingers through mine.

  “We’re really good on a bed,” he sighed breathlessly. “Who knew?”

  One hour and another round later, Cam was sitting on the bed, legs stretched out, watching me get dressed. “Do you have to do that?”

  “Yes, because I think people would notice the naked girl wandering around rehab. Unless it was Cynda and then they would be completely unsurprised.”

  He looped his finger through the belt loop of my jeans and pulled me close to the bed, then traced the circle of my bellybutton with the thumb. “You could tell people it’s a new therapy.”

  I laughed, and he tipped his forehead against my ribs. A big stupid smile broke out over my face as I raked my fingers through his hair. “I don’t know when this is going to happen again, because you are generally better supervised,” he said. “But I’m glad it did.”

  “Yeah, I’m not so much supervised as ‘stalked,’” I snorted. “Oh, shoot, I forgot to tell you, I had a sort of ‘confrontation’ with Sarah earlier. And some of the things she said, have me a little concerned.”

  But before I could finish describing Sarah and her crazy semi-threats, there was a weird scratching noise at the doorknob. My head whipped toward the door just in time to see Nurse Sarah step into the apartment with a key in her hand. And she didn’t seem to be wearing a lot of clothes. In fact, she seemed to be stripping out of the clothes she was wearing.

  She was actually sliding out of a trench coat, and was only wearing a matching pink leopard print bra-and-panties.

  Who owned a fucking trench coat in fucking Arizona? And who even sold pink leopard print panties?

  “What in the hell!” Cam yelled, grabbing for my shirt and slinging it over my head.

  “What are you doing here?” Sarah cried as Cam scrambled to zip his pants.

  “Me? What are you even doing coming into his apartment unannounced in your underwear, you freaking psycho? How did you even get a key to his apartment?”

  “I will not answer to you,” Sarah hissed. “Cameron, I came here, because I thought you were finally ready to accept your feelings for me, to get beyond this fixation you have with wounded jail bait.”

  I scoffed. “I’m twenty-one years old! I’m hardly jailbait!”

  Cam groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Violet, please don’t help.”

  Sarah continued as if she hadn’t heard either of us. “I am so disappointed in you. This is entirely inappropriate! I don’t understand how you could let this happen!”

  With that, she yanked her coat closed and stormed out of the room.

  “And clearly, you don’t understand the concept of ‘irony!’” I yelled after her. And then I saw how pale Cameron had gone, and I collapsed to the bed next to him.

  “Oh, shit,” I hissed. “Oh shit! She saw us! We’re screwed! And I can’t believe I yelled at her! What is wrong with me? … Why aren’t you reacting more?”

  Cam appeared to have lost the ability to move. “There’s a possibility we can tell her that she misinterpreted the situation.”

  “Your fly is open,” I said, waving at his zipper. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy as hell, but she’s going to notice a little detail like that. We can’t exactly tell her, ‘We were just talking and his zipper fell down.’”

  “If we were really convincing, I think we could pull it off.”

  “Don’t say ‘pull it off.’ It seems wrong.”

  “Right.” Cam blew out a long breath and took my hand in his. “We’re going to be OK, Violet.”

  I nodded, pulling him close so his face rested against my ribs. “I would have an easier time believing that if your fly was zipped.”

  “Good point.”

  ‡

  Waiting outside of the director’s
office felt a lot like that one time I got in trouble in high school. Sarah was inside, giving her version of events, while Cam and I waited in the chairs just outside Hugh’s door. All of the nervous energy that had carried me through the scene in Cam’s room had bottomed out, and I was twitching like the newest of New Beginners.

  It had taken all of fifteen minutes for me to get called to Hugh’s office. I don’t think Sarah bothered to go back to her office to change out of her trench coat ensemble to report us. Kim had taken pity on the two of us and abandoned her desk for a “coffee break” the minute I’d shown up in her office. Cam was already waiting there. And that’s when it hit me.

  Cam was going to lose his job, because of me. He was going to have to stop doing what he loved, because of me. That peaceful feeling he got, helping people avoid his mistakes? He was going to lose that, because of me. He was going to get kicked out of his home.

  Because of me.

  I couldn’t breathe. I stood to pace or move or do something, but my hands went cold and numb and I couldn’t seem to feel my knees. I bent at the waist, bracing my hands against my knees as I took deep, gulping breaths. The edges of my vision went white and hazy. My legs went all watery and weak beneath me, and the floor seemed to reach up to smack me in the face.

  “Shhh.” Cam caught me by the elbows and hauled me against his chest. “It’s OK. Just breathe. Breathe, baby. Come on.”

  I sucked air in through my mouth and waited for my vision to clear. I burrowed my face against Cam’s chest and let the warmth of his skin seep into mine.

  “I’ll tell them it was me,” I whispered. “I’ll them that this was the first time it happened, and I threw myself at you and you tried to stop me, but I just wouldn’t listen. And I forced myself on you.”

  “No,” Cameron said sternly. “I participated in this, Violet. I knew what I was doing. Don’t take that accountability away from me. I need to face consequences for my choices, or my life as a recovery counselor, the progress I’ve tried to help other people make, is a lie.”

  “But they’re going to fire you,” I whispered. “I can’t let that happen, Cam.”

  “You can’t control that. If it happens, it happens. But I’m not going to let you set yourself back in the progress you’ve made here by lying and taking responsibility for something I’ve done. Is the parallel really not occurring to you?”

  “Damn it,” I sighed. “I hate it when you’re right. Will they kick me out, too?”

  “I’ll ask that they don’t. With the time I’ve devoted to this place, it should be an easy favor to ask for. You need to stay, Violet, to complete the program.”

  “I hate this.” I dropped my forehead against his collarbone. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I love you,” he whispered. “I definitely love you, flaws and all.”

  It was a much better moment to say it, even though it was a really bad idea to be snuggling outside of the director’s office when the director was probably going to fire Cam over snuggling me in naked ways. But I was scared and I didn’t know how much longer I would be allowed to do this and damn it, I needed Cam.

  I needed Cam.

  In my whole life, I hadn’t needed anyone. I needed people to need me, but I hadn’t needed anyone for me.

  This was such an inconvenient time for me to have this epiphany.

  I nodded, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I love you, too.”

  He rubbed his hand along my back. “So, if they make me leave, which let’s face it, is probably going to happen, you’re going to be OK. You’re going to keep participating in therapy. You’re going to keep up your work with Dr. Mueller. You’ll complete the program. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” I said, as he kissed my forehead. “And when I get out of here, what happens?”

  “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I have no idea what’s going to happen if I can’t work here. And I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. I mean, you’re just starting out and there’s the age difference--”

  “Don’t start that again.”

  “Well, how many successful relationships do you know that start out in rehab, Violet?”

  “We could be the first. I want to see you, Cam. I want to see where this goes,” I told him. “Also, if you bring up the age difference again, I’m going to kneecap you.”

  “Very mature.”

  He pulled me closer, laughing into my hair as I wiped my wet cheeks against his shirt. And that was how Hugh found us, which was unfortunate.

  Yeah, Cam was going to get fired.

  Chapter 16

  New Beginnings felt completely different without Cam there.

  Cam had been fired, with very little debate or justifications, and he was given an hour to pack his belongings. And I don’t think Sarah thought her plan through because it turned out she wasn’t allowed to access my files directly… or show up in another staff member’s room wearing just a trench coat and panties with a key she’d stolen from the maintenance office. As soon as I told Hugh that part of the story, she got fired, too.

  I had not heard from Cam since he’d left. He’d been “advised” against contacting me while I was still a patient there. And I now had a “permanent assistant” in the form of Dan, who was assigned to walk me from room to room and stay with me during my activity sessions. Because I couldn’t be trusted not to wander off and screw random staff members, I suppose.

  So far, the “incident” and my relationship with Cam had been kept quiet by the staff. Dan’s presence had been explained away by telling the patients that I had a “setback,” which everybody in the Origins group assumed was a relapse. I told Cynda the truth, and she found the whole thing to be hilariously funny. Sure, she’d gotten caught with more contraband during her pre-admission body cavity search than any patient in New Beginnings’ history, but she’d never slept with a staff member. So I was officially the “high maintenance” patient in our room.

  Pickles was the friendliest face I saw every day, and fortunately for me, Dan was willing to take me to the barn as often as I wanted. A few days after Cam’s departure, I was standing outside of Pickles’s stall, prepping the saddle, with a letter from Allie burning a hole in my pocket. Dan slid it onto my tray at breakfast that morning, and I hadn’t known what to do with it. I wanted to read it, but I was also afraid that it might be a kiss-off from Allie, telling me she didn’t need me anymore, that our friendship was too unhealthy to save. There had to be some reason she hadn’t bothered seeing me when she visited, right?

  I must have spent twenty minutes at the breakfast table, staring at the envelope, until Cynda began to tease me about the excess of carbs striking me illiterate. I came out to the barn, so I could accomplish something while I procrastinated.

  Seeing me at the barn door, Pickles whinnied and clopped forward, bumping his head against my shoulder. I laughed, digging the prickly pear out of my pocket.

  “Who’s my good boy?” I cooed, picking up a brush and sweeping it down his smooth brown coat. Pickles would have answered, but his mouth was full and he was a very polite horse.

  Mick appeared at the stall door, giving me a sad smile from under his bristly grey moustache. “You know, of all the people that have come through this place, you’re the only one that’s really taken a shine to Pickles. Everybody else wants the prettier horses, Sunspot and Wind Dancer. But you chose Pickles. You take care of the things that need care most, Violet. And that’s a sign of good character in my book. That’s the only reason I let you come out here so much.”

  I would not cry in the barn, I promised myself. Mick had a rule about crying in the barn. I cleared my throat carefully and tried to make my voice even and clear so Mick wouldn’t get exactly how much I’d needed to hear that. Because an emotionally uncomfortable Mick was a Mick who assigned stall-cleaning duties.

  “Sure, that’s the reason, Mick,” I snorted, brushing down Pickles’s flank. “It has nothing to do with my willingness to use the hoof pick.”

&
nbsp; Mick stepped into the stall with me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’ve got some news. Pickles has been sold. He’s shipping out of here on Monday.”

  My jaw dropped, and I dropped the brush to the floor.

  “Who would buy him?” I asked, immediately patting Pickles’s mane in apology. “No offense, buddy. But he’s an old horse on the verge of riding retirement.”

  Mick shrugged. “Some rich old fool wants Pickles for his girlfriend. She’s a beginner and needs a gentle horse.”

  I patted Pickles’s mane. At least Pickles would have a home and a family to love him. “Well, he’s getting the right horse,” I said, carefully retrieving the brush and continuing my pattern down her back. “And it’s kind of fitting that we leave on the same day.”

  “What’s that?” Mick asked, glancing down at the envelope sticking out of my jeans.

  “Just a letter from a friend.”

  “It’s not opened,” he noted.

  “I haven’t had time yet,” I said, though I could hear the lie in the way my voice cracked.

  “Well, make time,” he said, gently taking the brush from my hand. His dark eyes were serious as he jerked his head toward the door. Thanks to my big mouth, Mick knew how little contact I got from the outside world. So he was immune to any and all arguments.

  “But--”

  “Go on now, take a break, and go read your letter. Pickles will still be here when you’re done.”

  “Fine,” I sighed, brushing my hands off on my jeans and walking out of the stall. “Pickles likes bows in his mane! Little pink ones!”

  “No, he doesn’t!” Mick shot back.

  I plopped my dusty butt on the bench outside the barn and took out Allie’s letter. I ran my fingers over her familiar cramped, spidery handwriting, like she was in such a hurry, the words wouldn’t come out of her pen fast enough. I took a deep breath and opened the envelope. Allie’s letter fell out into my hands.