by DC Renee
But it was too late because her body betrayed her at every turn.
Charles hadn’t left us, and he hadn’t left us alone, but he seemed to slink more into the background. Just a little more. His verbal assaults on both of us didn’t stop, his physical abuse didn’t go away, but it did all diminish. For those two years, he was—for lack of a better word—nicer.
When he wasn’t, my mom tried to protect me. She tried to shield me like she never had before, but it still didn’t help. She had no strength left in her. I wanted to be the one to protect her, but I could never stand up to Charles. In football, I fought. In school, I fought. With my friends, I fought. But with Charles? I cowered. My hands shook to hit him, my body trembled to push him, and my tongue moved to berate him, but that was where it ended.
Even with my mom, even with my overwhelming urge to want to shield her, Charles had switched something inside me that prevented me from going after him.
My mom didn’t want her final days to be in the hospital. I begged her to go, hoping they’d find a way to prolong her life.
“I don’t want to spend my last moments looking at sterile walls and strange faces. It’s not the home I wanted,” she admitted to me, “but it’s still my home, and I want to be here when I leave to join your father.” She said that with a half-smile. I knew part of her was happy at the thought of being reunited, but the other part of her was mourning the loss of our life together. Not just what could be, but what should have been.
So she did just that. She stayed in her bed for the last days of her life. Charles was nowhere to be found during this time, and I said a silent thank you to him. I knew he hadn’t stayed away for us, but I was thankful for the reprieve nonetheless.
And just moments before, I watched my mom take her last breath.
I held her hand as her eyes stayed closed and her breathing became shallow. I knew it wasn’t real, but I swear I felt her squeeze my hand one last time before she passed on.
So here I was. A fifteen-year-old boy—just a couple of months shy of sixteen—sitting in a house I hated, in a city I didn’t call home, hoping my stepfather wouldn’t come back as I held my mother’s hand while her body turned cold. I didn’t cry, though. I had learned to keep my tears at bay, even at this moment, even as I trembled to hold my emotion in. You could call it shock, but it was just what I had been conditioned to do—never let him see you cry … not even now … not even as my body begged for me to heave and sob for all that I had just lost. Not just my mom… so much more … much, much more …
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Present
Genevieve
IT’S NOW OR NEVER, I thought to myself as Cam “helped” me inside my place.
“Let me guess, that one is your bed?” Cam asked as he pointed at what he’d correctly guessed as my bed. I realized suddenly that Cam had never been to our little dorm. I mean, he’d been to the building and had waited for me outside often, but that was his first time seeing my private space. I felt vulnerable as if knowing what I kept around me would give him a glimpse inside me. I wasn’t sure I liked that very much, but it was too late now.
“Yep,” I responded and popped the “p.” I hoped I sounded drunk enough. As I took a quick glance at my bed, I wasn’t even sure how he had guessed right. Both our beds were neat and tidy because we made our beds every morning. We had no special characters on our sheets—just plain colors. “How’d you know?” I asked.
“Purple sheets,” he said with a shrug. I looked at him a little shocked to realize he knew my favorite color. “How about we sit you down, and I’ll find you some water,” he said as he led me to my bed.
“In the fridge,” I told him. I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to have one, but Amanda and I had bought a mini fridge and kept it stocked with water. We also had a drawer full of munchies. It was necessary if you asked me.
“I think this thing is better stocked than our fridge,” Cam said with a laugh. I’d seen his fridge on occasion. It was a full-size one since they lived in a house, but he hadn’t been kidding about our little one being way more packed than his ever was.
He handed me a water, but then it looked like he was about to scoot away, maybe to go sit on Amanda’s bed. I couldn’t have that, so I set the water down on the bed, grabbed my head with one hand, and shot out my other arm to grab onto his arm as if I needed a little help balancing.
“Whoa, easy,” he said as he sat down next to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pressing his body into mine. That had been nothing new, and it hadn’t been the first time he did that today, but every time his body touched mine, I felt confused. It was like my body craved him, but my mind hated him. And even when my mind hated him, it was only because it remembered who Cam was.
“You know, Cam,” I said with my voice a little too high, trying to get back to the objective. “I like you.”
He chuckled. “Well, I should hope so. Friends generally like each other,” he replied with a smirk. “I like you too, Gen.”
“No, Cam, I mean I really, really like you.” I let my words sink in. It took a moment, but his face registered understanding after a beat. Time to go in for the kill. “And I think you like me too,” I said as if I’d come up with some grand epiphany while I watched his face to see if there was any sign of truth. His face remained in the same slightly shocked expression it had been when my admission of feelings found their purchase. “But I think you’re afraid of something. I think you’re afraid to give in to your feelings, but I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s holding you back. Why?” I asked and scrunched up my eyebrows to make it seem like I was pondering this. He didn’t respond, didn’t even move a muscle. I think he might have even stopped breathing. “Why?” I asked again, trying to push him. I even nudged him with my shoulder, his arm still around me.
“You’re pretty buzzed, Gen. You’ll probably have a killer headache in the morning. Maybe we should get some sleep, huh?”
“I’m drunk, Cam, not stupid,” I retorted. “I know what I just said, I know what I just asked, and I know you’re avoiding the conversation.” I sounded way too clear-headed when I said that, but Cam didn’t seem to notice. His thoughts were elsewhere.
“Some pretty serious stuff for such a fun night,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but his tone gave him away. Something was bothering him about this. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I would find out. I could tell myself it was purely because getting him to open up would mean I was one step closer to getting his heart. But honestly, I had pushed a button. I knew that now, and I wanted to know what that button did. I wanted to know what happened to Cam that had him acting this way with me now. I wanted him to be as vulnerable as I felt. Why? Simply because I wanted to know that part of him. And at that moment, it had nothing to do with getting him to fall for me.
“Cam,” I said a little softer. I moved so I was sitting partially sideways, my head turned completely to him. I placed my hand on his thigh, almost as if I was trying to give him some strength, or maybe I was trying to comfort him. “It’s been pretty serious for a while. But there is something holding you back. What is it?”
He hadn’t looked at me, but as I asked that last question, his eyes slowly moved up, locking onto my gaze. There was pain in his stare, but more importantly, there was fear.
“I … uh … you’re too drunk for this,” he said.
“Then what better time to tell me everything?” I asked. I was ninety-nine percent sure that my very logical responses were a dead giveaway I wasn’t drunk, but what reason did Cam have to believe I was lying? And really, I could practically see his mind going a million miles a minute—he’d never comprehend I was sober.
My words seemed to break him. “I can’t let you in. I can’t let anyone in. I lose them all.”
“Lose who?” I asked.
“Anyone I care about, anyone I love. They leave, vanish.”
“How?” I asked.
“The people I love die, Gen. The people
I ever cared about in this life have died, left me alone, and left me here to fend for myself.”
“That’s not your fault,” I told him. “That has nothing to do with you. Life is shitty; it’s not fair. Good people die for no reason every day. It’s not because they were in your life.” My heart squeezed tight for him. He was letting me in, and I didn’t like what I saw—I didn’t like it for him. No one, not even my worst enemy, deserved to feel the kind of anguish that was pouring off him in spades at that moment. “And look at you. You’re a star, you’re in college, getting a good degree; you’re smart, you’re nice, and protective. I think you did pretty darn good on your own. Most people have all the support in the world and can’t say they’ve accomplished half of what you have.”
“It’s so much more than that,” he responded.
“Tell me,” I encouraged him.
“I … I can’t.”
“Why?” I asked. It seemed to be the question of the night.
“Because then I’d definitely lose you. And I can’t lose you. I haven’t had a friend like you since … ever. I care about you, Gen—probably too much—but that’s exactly why I hold back. I just …”
“It’s okay,” I responded. I never thought I’d feel bad for Cam, but I utterly did. “I get it,” I told him. And in a way, I did. It didn’t help me in the long run, but I understood him. He had something holding him back. I did too. He had to learn to live with them, but that wasn’t an easy road. I knew from experience—ironically because of him.
He stared at me, my hand still on his thigh, and I realized his hand had somehow moved to hold my other hand in his. I hadn’t even felt when that happened. The look he gave me was full of regret overshadowed by gratitude. I knew he had much more story left to tell, but I had a feeling this was the first time he’d gotten even that much out. I could tell he felt a little of the weight he’d been carrying around disappear. Funny how life worked—he had broken me, and here I was, healing him. And I didn’t feel bad about it; I didn’t feel bad about it at all. I actually felt good.
The ends of my lips curled up just slightly, and his eyes dropped down to my mouth. His own lips parted slightly. It was a moment. It was a “will he kiss me” moment. It was a “make it happen this time” moment. We’d had moments. This wasn’t the first, but it felt like it. It felt different from the others. It felt like we had both made headway. I just wasn’t sure if we would cross that line. I didn’t move, but neither did he. As seconds ticked by, I felt disappointment creep in. Was it because he didn’t kiss me? Or was it because I hadn’t taken as big of a step forward as I would have liked?
I felt his thumb brush my wrist, and I knew part of it hit my bracelet—the one I never took off. He looked down at his thumb half covering it. The moment was officially over.
“Tell me about these,” he whispered. I had told him the minimum before, but I knew that hadn’t been enough.
I didn’t want to, but I felt I owed him at least a little after he opened up to me. “Everyone has insecurities, Cam,” I told him. “Everyone needs a reminder that they’re good enough, that they matter, that they’re okay, and that they’re strong. These are that for me. They are what give me the strength to live my life every day and not just survive it.” I wouldn’t tell him more. Not now, and I doubted ever. That was more than I had told most people, and that would have to do.
He nodded in response and didn’t ask me anymore. I was grateful for that. He stared at me again, stared at me as if he saw right through me, as if he understood me better than I thought he did, as if he knew exactly what my secrets were. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the way he looked at me as if I was a puzzle he’d just unlocked another piece to.
“Well, I guess we should get some sleep now,” I said to break the tension.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he responded. “Here, let me help,” he said and got up and kneeled down to help pull off my shoes. I didn’t change. I would have either had to leave the room or let him watch me get undressed. I just climbed under the covers in my clothes. And to my surprise, Cam ran his hand over the blanket, essentially tucking me in.
“I’ll just crash on Amanda’s bed,” he stated as he walked over and kicked off his own shoes. “If you need anything, I’m just a few feet away, okay?”
“Yeah,” I responded.
He didn’t get under the covers, just laid on top. I took that as a sign of respect, and I smiled.
“Good night, Cam,” I whispered after I switched off the lamp by my bed.
“Good night, Gen,” he responded.
To my surprise, I drifted off to sleep quickly; the sound of Cam’s even breathing lulled me into a peaceful sleep. But when I woke up, he was gone—like the night before had been a dream, a mirage, a fairy tale with no real end. And even with the disappointment at his leaving without a word or a note, I couldn’t help but smile. Cam might not have given me his heart the night before, but I knew something he had yet to realize. And it was only a matter of time before he did.
CHAPTER FORTY
Past
Cameron
Four years earlier …
“I’M ALL THE family you got left, kid,” Charles told me moments after my mother’s body lay six feet underground.
The service had been simple, short, and only a few people came. Some of Charles’s “friends,” some neighbors, and a couple of guys from my football team. Charles had played the grieving husband to a T. I hated to admit that part of me didn’t think he was playing all that hard. In his very, very sick and twisted mind, he cared about my mom. His hate had ruined any love he might have had—had morphed it into something so ugly that light couldn’t pass through, only darkness.
Family, I repeated in my head. Such a cruel, bitter word especially when it came to Charles. I had no family left. None. Zero. Zilch. Charles was not my family. Just saying the word tasted foul on my lips.
The sad part was that Charles was sort of right. He was the furthest thing from family, but he was my legal guardian for all intents and purposes. He was my “father” by adoption, my surname belonging to him thanks to paperwork.
He essentially was all the family I had left. At that moment, I actually envied my mom for leaving, for getting away.
“So show some respect and grab me a fucking beer, you stupid piece of shit,” Charles’s voice rang out.
Like the good little puppy I’d been trained to be, I simply nodded and grabbed him a beer. I was seething inside, but doing nothing on the outside. Because that was all pieces of shit like me did.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Present
Genevieve
FINALS SNUCK UP on us. Okay, they didn’t actually sneak up on anyone, but something about finals made everyone on campus go crazy. The slackers freak out, the nerds go into overtime, and everyone in the middle panics they won’t raise their grades.
I never struggled too much with school, but even I buckled down and found myself out of commission. I didn’t see Cam, which I knew would happen. I saw him for all of about twenty minutes before I left to go home after my last final.
He found me at my dorm and wrapped me in a hug.
“It’s fucking over,” he said with a huge grin.
We had texted and had talked on the phone a couple of times during the previous week and a half, but that hadn’t been the same as seeing him. Now that the chaos was over, I had actually missed our weekly interactions, which sort of scared the shit out of me.
“You sure you don’t want to come visit me?” I asked him.
I knew he had nowhere to go during the break, so I offered for him to come home with me for a little bit. I wasn’t saying all summer, but just for a week or two to give him something to do. My reasoning was pretty evenly divided between thinking that would push us over that edge we had yet to cross and feeling bad that Cam had nowhere to go. It wasn’t like he had someplace to be, but maybe he couldn’t afford the trek home. That would suck too, but at least he�
��d know he was missed by someone. Or even if he had some classes he needed to finish or a pressing job to do. He just simply had no one waiting for him. My heart broke a little for him. Even the worst person in the world had someone who cared about him. Cam … well … didn’t.
“Can’t,” he responded, and I could actually feel the disappointment rolling off him in waves at his own response. I wondered if that was because he missed having the comfort of a family that I had provided him over Spring Break or if he would miss hanging out with me. “I start my internship this week.” I already knew he had lined up a paying internship with some youth sports program for the summer. I figured he did that more so he’d have something to do than the actual money, which wasn’t all that much. But hey, a college student didn’t complain about their salary. Anything was better than nothing.
“If you get a break or if they get tired of your ass, you know where I’ll be,” I joked.
“You sound like this is goodbye,” he responded with furrowed eyebrows.
“Well … yeah, I guess it is,” I said with a shrug. “Gone all summer, and we don’t have any classes together next year. Plus, you’ll be busy with football.” I hadn’t meant a word of it, but I needed him to make a move to initiate communication with me.
I swear I could practically see steam coming from him. He looked downright pissed at my words.
He stepped closer, challenging me to move, daring me even. I didn’t. He was so close I could lean in just slightly, and our entire bodies would brush against each other.
“Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that,” he whispered through his teeth, his anger and fear coming out loud and clear. “You’re not just some classmate or some study buddy. You’re my fucking friend. My best friend. Got it?” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The power of his quiet words, the way he caged me in without having to physically cage me in, had me mute. Cam was far from a beta personality. He was alpha through and through, but all I’d ever seen from him was a gentle, protective, kind guy. But right now, alpha Cam was out, and fuck me, if it didn’t make me swoon just a tiny bit. Too damn bad Cam was Tyler. Too fucking bad.
