Chasing Castles (Finding Focus #2)

by Jiffy Kate

  I don’t hesitate.

  I walk into my bedroom and throw everything I can into a duffle bag and my backpack.

  When Deacon and I get into the truck, the clock on the dashboard says it’s just after three o’clock in the morning. I’m exhausted—emotionally and physically spent.

  I feel Deacon’s glances, but I keep my eyes on the road. I can’t talk about it right now. Besides, I’m sure he overheard enough. I feel ashamed and embarrassed and grateful and thankful and like I just need to sleep for a few days.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, needing to at least say that much, even though it doesn’t come close to expressing my gratitude. When I feel his hand reach across the seat for mine, I squeeze it tightly, never wanting to let go.

  Leaning my head against the cool glass, I let more tears fall as I watch the city fade into the background.

  Deacon

  Present

  I NOTICE THE BEEPING FIRST and then the smell.

  It’s clean—too clean—but not in a homey kind of way.

  My brain feels foggy and everything’s dark, but it’s not until I try to clear my throat that panic sets in.

  Because I can’t. I can’t cough. I can’t talk. I can’t do anything.

  My hand flies to my face, and I find the tubes that are down my throat and up my nose. My heart races and I worry I’ll suffocate until I somehow realize something is helping me breathe.

  What the fuck happened to me?

  Once I’ve calmed down, and my heart isn’t drumming in my ears, I hear the beeping again. This time, it’s louder than before, and I want to make it stop. I don’t know if it’s an alarm or what, but I’m certain that sound will drive me insane. I try to lift my left arm, so I can hit the machine or do something to make the beeping stop, but it feels like it weighs a ton. I can’t move it.

  Slowly, I look down and see the reason my arm won’t move.

  Cami.

  Her arm is wrapped around mine, and her head is laying on top of them both. She’s in a deep sleep, but I can see that her eyes are pink and swollen, like she’s been crying.

  But, why?

  I try to think back to how I got here in this hospital and, after a few moments, it all comes flashing back to me.

  The fire.

  Pockets.

  The excruciating pain in my leg.

  Not breathing.

  Then, nothing.

  It’s killing me that I can’t talk to Cami right now. I want to tell her I’m okay and that I love her. I want to say I’m sorry for putting her and my family through whatever they’ve gone through since I’ve been here.

  How long have I been here?

  I was stupid to run into the restaurant, but I wasn’t thinking; it was instinct. All I could think about was putting out the fire and saving everything Micah and I have worked so hard for. It wasn’t until I was choking through the smoke that I realized how bad it was.

  I’d take it all back not to have to see Cami like this. Seeing her cry breaks my heart, and I’m reminded of another time I watched her cry in her sleep.

  My own tears start to fall as I think of what I could’ve lost. Cami, Carter, my family . . .

  Deacon

  Past

  AFTER GETTING CAMI SETTLED INTO my bed, I wait to make sure she’s fallen back to sleep before I walk out of the room. I had to wake her when we got here because she passed out about twenty minutes into our drive from her apartment in New Orleans. Before I close the door, I take one last look at her, still trying to wrap my brain around everything I heard and saw tonight and the fact that she’s here, in my bed. It’s a little surreal.

  The anger that’s still coursing through my body has me feeling like I could punch a wall or run a marathon. I’d love nothing more than to hop back in my truck and drive back to New Orleans and hunt that bastard down.

  It wouldn’t end pretty.

  It would probably end with me in jail, and that wouldn’t help anybody.

  Instead, I make my way down the hall and into the kitchen and try to decide if I need a beer or coffee. I don’t want to sleep, in case Cami needs me, but I know I could use some. So, instead of adding to my hype, I grab a beer from the fridge and hope it takes the edge off.

  I don’t stay here often, spending most of my time at mine and Micah’s apartment in Baton Rouge, but I always make sure to keep the fridge stocked with beer. Usually, when I’m here, it’s to escape the chaos that is my life these days.

  I plop myself in the middle of my couch and stretch my limbs out, letting the events of the night play out in my mind. When I saw Tristan with his hands on her, it was everything I could do to keep myself from jumping the banister and removing his limbs.

  And when I think about the news I overheard—Cami having a baby. His baby. I can hardly see straight.

  Anyone who would treat her less than the amazing person she is, isn’t worthy.

  I pull at my hair in frustration and slam my empty beer bottle down on the table in front of me as different scenarios flash through my mind.

  What would’ve happened had I not shown up?

  Nope, not gonna go there. If I let myself go there, I’ll go crazy, and that won’t make this situation any better.

  Instead, I grab a second beer and sit back down. Work kicked my ass today and, normally I’d be passed out already, but I doubt I sleep at all tonight. I want to be ready the second Cami wakes up.

  Leaning back into the sofa, I text Micah and tell him I’m at the cottage and will be for the next few days. He immediately texts back, asking if something is wrong. He knows I usually only come here for some down time. And the fact that I’m here on a random weekday night is definitely out of the ordinary. I text him back, assuring him everything will be fine and that I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow. I know for a fact, if I were to tell him about Cami, he’d be here within the hour, but I don’t want to overwhelm her like that. However, when Tucker finds out, all hell will break loose, and I won’t stop him from murdering Tristan. I’ll help him bury the body. Or maybe I’ll do it for him.

  As I’m contemplating ways for the dick to die, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I look at the time before answering.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say cautiously. “Everything okay?”

  “Well, I was about to ask you the same thing,” he says, clearing his throat. “Are you home? I was getting a drink of water, and I noticed a light on down at your place.”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry I didn’t warn you.”

  “That’s fine, son. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Cami’s here, actually.” I rub my face wearily, wishing I could keep it . . . her . . . to myself, but I can’t. “She’s, uh, sleeping . . . but I don’t want to give any details without her permission. Just wanted to let you know.” I’m not sure who else Tucker called, so just in case, I want them to know she’s with me, and she’s safe.

  “Alright,” my dad says matter-of-factly, a bit of concern in his voice. “I trust you to take care of whatever is going on, but if you need help, you come get me.” That last sentence is said in a lower, hushed tone, unspoken understanding coming across thick.

  “Yes, sir. I will. Thanks, Dad,” I say, ending the call.

  My whole family is fiercely protective of Cami, Tucker, and Clay, too, but especially Cami. We always have been, even when she didn’t want us to be. I know, when we were all in school, she hated the way we hovered over her, but we couldn’t help ourselves. She’s special. She always has been, and she deserves to be treated with the utmost respect.

  I must’ve dozed off because the next thing I know, my eyes fly open at the sound of my bedroom door. My cottage has been around since my dad was a kid and still has the original hardwood flooring that creaks when stepped on, but Cami is doing her best to be quiet. I don’t want to startle her, so I remain still and watch her. She gently tiptoes a few steps into the hallway until something on the wall catches her eye.

  It’
s the first time I’ve truly been able just to look at her in a long time. Her blonde hair is longer. Her legs are longer, or maybe it’s the shorts she changed into that make them appear that way. Whatever it is, she’s gorgeous. The Cami walking quietly down my hall is a woman, not the girl I spent my days with by the pond. She’s older, wiser, and even more beautiful than she was then.

  My heart races as I watch her inspect the paintings that are hung on the wall. Her paintings. They vary in shape and size and cover the space from one end of the hallway to the other. I can see her eyes squint when she tips her head to the side, almost like she’s trying to solve a mystery and I guess she is. She has no idea that I’ve bought nearly every painting she’s sold in French Settlement over the last few years.

  I wish I knew what she’s thinking right now.

  She’s so fucking beautiful, and I feel like such a creeper spying on her that I decide to make my presence known.

  “Good morning,” I say, clearing the sleep out of my throat. I try to speak softly, but she still jumps a little and covers her heart with her hand. Once she realizes I’m on the couch, she relaxes and smiles.

  “How did you get all of these?” she asks, pointing to her works of art. She never was one for beating around the bush.

  I stand and walk over to her, stretching a little to work the crick out of my neck. “I bought ’em,” I say, admiring the one she’s standing right in front of. It’s one she painted of the barn, probably her senior year of high school. Sometimes, when I’m here, I look at it and imagine her in there painting her mural.

  “Deacon, not once have I ever seen you at a craft show. I think I would’ve remembered sellin’ you one of my paintings.”

  “Well, I didn’t want you to know I was buyin’ them, so I’d send friends in to say they were buyin’ them for their moms or girlfriends. Sometimes I’d get ladies from the senior home to buy ’em, but that didn’t always work out for me.”

  “How so?” She has a small smile on her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I have to change that.

  “A few of the ladies liked ’em too much to give ’em back to me, so they’d keep ’em. They took my money and my paintings!” I tell her, laughing at the memory.

  She’s laughing now, too, and I feel like I can breathe again.

  “Why on earth would you go to all that trouble? If you wanted a painting, all you had to do was ask.”

  I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed. “I wanted to support you, to show you that you can do anything you set your mind to. I have no doubt all your paintings would’ve been sold to others if I hadn’t butted in, but I was selfish. I wanted as many as I could get.”

  “I can’t believe you hung them, though. I mean, here in your cottage.”

  “This is where they belong. I love them, Cami, and every time I’m here, and I look at them, I think of you, and it’s like you’re here with me. And I love that, too.”

  Her eyes glance at me before she blushes and turns her head. “I’m gonna take a shower if that’s okay?” she asks.

  “Of course. Take your time. Everything you need should be in there.”

  She gives me a quick smile before she shuffles back down the hall and locks herself in the bathroom.

  That was . . . interesting.

  A few minutes later, there’s a knock on my door. It’s seven in the morning, so it can only be one of two people, and I talked to my dad last night.

  I open the door to find my mother standing on the porch with a basket in her hands and a frantic look in her eyes.

  “Hey, Mama,” I say, stepping out of the way to let her inside. She walks straight to the kitchen and puts the basket down before turning to me.

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Deacon Samuel, you let me see my girl right this instant, you hear me?” Her eyes are watery, and it breaks my heart to see her so worried. Cami is like a daughter to my mom; I should’ve known she’d react like this.

  I hold my hands up in a display of surrender. “She’s in the shower. I know you’re worried, but you’re gonna have to be patient. She hasn’t really spoken much since I went to get her last night and I don’t want her to feel pressured to share anything with us if she’s not ready. I mean, I know a little bit of what’s going on, but she needs to be the one to tell you.”

  It’s not often that I stand up to my mom or not give her what she wants, but I’m hoping she’ll understand and not try to whip me.

  “Just tell me one thing. Is she hurt?” Her voice cracks and I pull her into my arms.

  “She’s not hurt, at least not physically. Besides, you think I would’ve just walked away from that asshole if I knew he’d laid a hand on her?”

  “Well, I hope you have bail money set aside, because if I find out he hurt her in any way, his ass is mine.”

  “You got it, tiger,” I say with a laugh before kissing the top of her head. I know she means it, too, but right now we have to focus on Cami. Kicking the douchebag’s ass will have to wait.

  Mama steps back and wipes her face. “I know it’s been awhile since you’ve stayed over here, so I brought you some coffee and breakfast. You make sure she eats enough; you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  She walks to the front door and opens it. “You take care of her, Deacon. She needs you.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  She blows me a kiss, then leaves.

  By the time I have the coffee poured and my mama’s biscuits and gravy plated, Cami walks into the kitchen.

  “Oh, wow,” Cami says with wide eyes. “Are those your mama’s biscuits?”

  Her hair is wet, and she’s in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and she’s still beautiful.

  “Yeah, she stopped by while you were in the shower.”

  Cami’s eyes question me, but she doesn’t say anything. She just sits down at the small table in my kitchen and pulls a plate to her. I follow suit and dig in because it’s been awhile since I ate last. When I look up, Cami is practically inhaling her food, and I have to laugh. She’s never been a girl who doesn’t eat in front of boys, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.

  “Hungry?” I ask when she looks up at me.

  “Starving.” She smiles with a mouth full of food. “Sorry, it’s just that this is the first morning I haven’t been sick right off the bat. And I’ve really missed Annie’s cookin’.”

  “You’ve been sick?” I ask.

  “Well, pregnant.”

  She cuts her eyes away from me, and we both sit there for a minute in silence. It’s the first time she’s said anything about last night and the baby.

  “About that,” she finally says. “How much did you hear?”

  “All of it,” I tell her, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. Just thinking about it makes me feel like punching a wall. “Enough.”

  Cami bites on the corner of her mouth while she’s thinking and I want to walk around the table and hug her because I can’t imagine how scary the last day or so has been for her. I don’t like to see her hurting, never have. I’d take it away in a heartbeat if I could. Well, not the baby, but the douchebag boyfriend and everything else she’s been through.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she says, taking another bite of her breakfast, slower this time.

  “About the baby?” I ask.

  “No,” she says adamantly. “Not about the baby, just about everything else. Like, telling my dad . . . and Tucker.” She pauses and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “My daddy is going to be disappointed in me.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “And Tucker is going to want to kill Tristan,” she continues.

  “Now, that I can believe. And I plan on assisting.”

  She laughs, but there’s little humor there. “Honestly, I’d be fine if I never saw him again . . . or heard his name. If I could tell people I had some sort of immaculate conception, tha
t’d be great.” This time, when she laughs, it’s real, and I can see the old Cami—the carefree, dream chaser.

  “You can stay here as long as you want,” I tell her. “I’m hardly ever here, and if I’m in town, I’ll just sleep at the big house.”

  She pauses with her fork in mid-air. “Serious?” she asks.

  “Of course.”

  “That would be . . . well, it’d be great. I didn’t really want to stay at Daddy’s. With Kay there, it feels different. Good, but different.”

  “You okay with all that?” I ask, realizing we haven’t had a chance to talk about Clay and Kay getting married.

  “Yeah, I’m happy for them. They’re good together.”

  I can tell by the way she smiles that she means it.

  “I won’t stay here forever,” she says. “I’ll figure everything out and find a place to live.”

  “I meant it when I said you could stay here as long as you want or need.”

  “Well, this is your house. I’m sure there will come a day when you and Micah are tired of sharing an apartment, and you’ll want to be here more permanently.”

  “Yeah, someday,” I tell her. I’ve always thought I’d settle down here one day, but I can’t imagine Janie living here. She’d never want to move to French Settlement, let alone this place. I brought her here once to show her around, but she wasn’t impressed.

  “What about you and Janie?” Cami asks, like she can read my mind. “I’m surprised y’all don’t live together.”

  “Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “Janie likes her space and so do I. We also have completely different schedules. I’m up late at the restaurant, and she’s more of an early to bed kind of girl. Being in med school takes a lot of dedication.”

  “Med school?” Cami asks, her blue eyes widening. “Wow. I didn’t realize she was going to be a doctor.”

  “Yeah, her whole family is in the medical field in one way or another. She was kinda born into it.”

  “Are y’all serious?” she asks, and I can tell she shocked herself with that question. “Sorry, none of my business. I guess it’s just been so long since we’ve been able to sit down and talk, just the two of us. I feel like I need to know everything.” She laughs at herself and blushes a little. It’s adorable. I’ve missed her.