Cameron

I woke up.

When I opened my eyes, it was the dark that I saw first. It should be comfortable for me—after all, the dark had been my companion since I was a kid. But then my body started shaking.

I struggled to sit on the couch where I slept. The floor was cold and hard under my feet. I bowed my head, resting my elbows on my knees as I waited for my hands to stop trembling, for the ice in my bones to dissipate.

Kara had always appeared in my dreams, but she'd never been a part of that dream. Somehow, my mind had protected her from it, separated her from that recurring nightmare. Until now. I didn't need my body's reaction to tell me I was frightened by it.

Cam, talk to me.

My phone rang. Thinking it was her, I scrambled to get to it. I grunted when I slipped and nearly painted the floor with my face.

Shit. Where the hell is my phone?

I stopped, realizing that whoever it was wouldn't be her. It would take someone getting arrested before she'd talk to me on the phone.

Standing in the middle of my living room, I noticed it was too cold in here, too dark.

Why are you doing this to yourself?

I heard her voice, like I sometimes do. But she wasn't here so I kept the blinds closed, didn't bother turning the heater on.

What's the point?

At ten minutes before eight in the morning, I pulled up into the large hospital parking lot. It was still early, but already the parkade was full. The sun was high, beaming down and blinding my eyeballs. I'd have put my sunglasses on if I remembered to bring them.

"Here." I squinted as Rick handed me a square card the size of a credit card. "Parking pass. Put it on your dashboard."

I did. Feeling antsy, I swiped my hand on my mouth.

"I don't have time to babysit a cranky kid," he said. "Go home and get some sleep."

"I'm not cranky. Sir."

No matter how much I insisted on taking Rick to his dialysis treatment, he wouldn't let me. He had passed on responsibilities on some of the active projects he had going on to me and said that was enough for now. This morning he'd finally agreed. But now that I was here, something didn't feel right. Rick shouldn't be here at all. He shouldn't be sick.

I jiggled the keys in my palm, ready to jump out of the truck and get this over with, but Rick only unbuckled his seatbelt and made himself comfortable in the passenger seat. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me with concern.

"Tell me what's bothering you," he said.

"Nothing is bothering me."

"You've always been a tight vault. No amount of prying can make your stubborn ass talk if you don't want to. Why is that, Cameron?"

The inside of the truck suddenly seemed too small. "I'm just made that way. God's gift to the world."

He chuckled. "That you are. Caleb said you haven't been sleeping well."

Irritation climbed up. "How would he know?" I was being testy. I could hear it in my voice. "Does he park his ass on my window and watch me sleep?"

"Calm down, son."

Something about the way he said it calmed me down. His tone was relaxed, nonjudgmental, understanding. He used to always say this to me and Caleb those first few years when we were in high school, and all we did was fight and be angry at anything that moved. Rick's words still had the same effect on me years later.

"You and Caleb gossip like bored, old women," I said.

"At least we're having fun. He's worried about you." He paused. "Let me ask you something."

Let me ask you something. I curled my hand on the back of my neck, trying to massage the frustration that suddenly spiked there. Now his words felt like I was back to being a kid, back to where I felt I always did something wrong, never getting anything right no matter how hard I tried. I wished I were somewhere else.

"Can you find your balls, son?" he deadpanned.

Despite of myself, a small laugh came out. The tension left my shoulders.

"Last time I checked." My balls still ached like a son of a bitch from Kara's kick. I shifted in my seat, wincing at the memory of it.

"Good. We're off to a good start. The lesson is how to focus and what to do when everything is overwhelming you. Looks like you need a reminder."

I sighed.

"Let's say, you need to take a dump." There was a smile in his voice now. "You might feel like it's overwhelming to take a dump. There are so many steps after all, and you just don't know where to start. So, what do you do? You focus on the first step."

"You should write a book."

"What's the first step?"

"Find my balls."

He chuckled. "Always a smartass. Focus on going to the bathroom first. Can you walk there? Yeah? Good. Now focus on the next step. Just take it easy. One small step at a time. There's no one rushing you here. You're on your own timetable. Once you're in there, can you pull your pants down and sit? Yes? Good. Try not to sit on your dick. Now try to squeeze one out. Shit, look at you, kid, you're already doing a great job."

"I think I get it."

He was smiling. I shook my head and smiled back.

"What's wrong, kid?"

Suddenly the sun's beams felt soft on my face. The knot in my stomach started to loosen.

"There are some things in my childhood that I'm remembering," I said quietly. "Bits and pieces. I don't know if they're real or it's just my imagination getting out of hand. The nightmares—"

I looked up at him and stopped. Rick's eyes looked stricken. And I knew why.

I used to have terrible nightmares, they would always come and go, and in high school, he'd seen me wrecked because of them. It was a very rough time for me. He worried a lot for me back then, and I knew he'd worry a lot about me again now. I didn't want to cause him more concern on top of dealing with his health. The knot in my stomach came back.

"How often do you get them?" he asked.

"Like I told you. They're just bits and pieces. Nothing concrete."

"Cam."

In the beginning, only a few times. Now I'd been getting them almost every night. "A couple times a week, maybe."

"When did they start?"

"Maybe a year ago. I'm not so sure."

"A year ago." The weight of the situation seemed to settle heavily in the air. "It hasn't been this long before."

He knew, and somehow that brought comfort that Rick understood what I was going through, but at the same time it also brought dread. But I knew Rick wouldn't push if I told him not to—not too much anyway.

"You need to see someone about them. You need help. Let me talk to my doctor and ask for a recommendation—"

"No." I felt myself shutting down. "I tried that before. It didn't help."

"Wouldn't hurt to try again."

When I didn't say anything, he sighed. "All right. Let's drop this for now, but we'll revisit. I think you need to see a shrink. I'm not forcing you. I just want you to think about it for now, okay?"

I nodded.

"What was it about? The nightmare."

"Like I said, nothing concrete. I don't even remember it," I lied.

"When you were in high school, you were having nightmares too, but they went away eventually. It was pretty rough. You wouldn't let me do anything to help you about them back then but let me do something for you now. You'll tell me if there's more?"

"You've done more for me than anyone," I said. And meant every word. "I don't think I'd be here in front of you if you weren't there for me back then."

He didn't say anything for a moment. I turned my head to look at him.

"You're my son. That's all there is to it."

I nodded, choked up.

"Cameron."

"Yes, sir."

"You can't fight this alone. What scares you so much that you keep this heavy thing on your shoulders to carry by yourself? Even Simon of Cyrene helped Jesus carry his cross up the hill."

Rick waited until I looked at him in the eye before he said, "The people who have stayed with you all this time, trust them a little more to handle it. Give it a try and let me know."

He grabbed his book, tucked it in his armpit, and opened the passenger door. "All right, let's go. Priyanka's going to be mad at me if I'm any later than this."

He was late, but his nurse wasn't mad at him like he thought. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Rick sauntered inside like it was his own home. The dialysis floor looked like a long and spacious hallway. Beds and recliners were separated by curtains, and a tall, bulky white machine with a monitor, tubes and pumps stood beside each of them.

Nurses and patients waved and greeted Rick like old friends. A couple of the women flirted with him; he flirted right back. He was tall and wiry but with hard muscles from doing construction most of his life. I imagined they find him attractive.

The health care aide took his weight, told him to wait for his nurse in his assigned spot. Rick took off his jacket, fixed his hair and sat on a recliner instead of a bed. I noticed that he'd shaved, even put on cologne, and is wearing one of his nicer shirts.

"Good morning, Rick." A nurse in pink scrubs came in. She had long black hair mixed with gray that she'd piled on top of her head, a stethoscope around her neck, and a watch as big as a dinner plate on her wrist. It reminded me of when I saw Kara in her scrubs for the first time. It was a different time, in a different hospital. "Looking good today. How are you feeling?"

Rick sat up straight. "Good morning, Priyanka. I'm doing great this morning. You?"

The sides of her mouth turned down. "My dog swallowed a sock last night! I had to take her to the vet."

They talked for a bit about their dogs, and I sat in the corner, watching them until he remembered to introduce me. She was nice and friendly, and it was obvious to me that Rick had a crush on her.

"Any issues for the doctor?" she asked, all business now.

"Not today."

"Just need to ask you some questions, Rick."

"I know the drill, sweetheart. Go ahead."

"Any bleeding?"

"No."

"Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea?"

"None."

"How's your appetite?"

"It's good."

"Are you gaining weight?"

"Doesn't feel like it."

"Any shortness of breath?"

"A bit."

"Is that something new?"

"Not really. It's chronic."

"Is it getting better or worse?"

"It's the same."

She asked a couple more questions before asking him if she could take his blood pressure. She was informing him of every step she was going to do before performing it. With her stethoscope, she listened to his lungs, her eyes continuously assessing his face. Everything went smoothly, and I was observing everything without thinking much of anything until I saw her hook him up to the dialysis machine.

There was a tightness in my chest as I watched the whirl of the machine, as I saw the tubes taking and giving him blood. When the nurse left, Rick turned to me.

"You better leave. It'll take four hours for this paint to dry."

"I'll stay."

He closed his book and turned to me. "I can still wipe my own ass, Cameron. I don't need anyone babysitting me or watch me fart and burp while I'm hooked up to this machine. Come back in four hours to pick me up."

"You just want to talk to your girlfriend all by yourself."

"She's not my girlfriend. Why don't we talk about yours?"

I stood up. "I'll be right back."

"That's what I thought." He shook his head, opened his book. "Check the site at Thorne Street. Elijah could use your help there."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be starving when I'm done here. Let's grab something to eat then and you can cry on my shoulder about your girl problems."

Girl problems.

He looked fine enough to me if he wanted to know about my girl problems, I thought as I exited the hospital and climbed in my truck. I slammed the driver's side door close with a loud bang.

I drove up and down unfamiliar streets, trying to find my way to the nearest exit. I wished I was on my motorcycle right now, speeding down an empty road to nowhere, emptying my thoughts to get some semblance of respite. When I hit the highway, I opened the windows and floored it.

I knew it wasn't true; Rick didn't look fine. He'd always been strong, steady. Like a tree that would never be uprooted and continuously survived bitter storms. The sight of him plugged into that machine made my heart drop in my stomach. Would I lose him too?

Everything was falling apart around me.

Focus on one small step at a time.

He'd been there when I was on my way to destroying my life. A neglected and unwanted young boy who needed someone to believe in him, to throw him a rope so he could pull himself up. I owed him my life. I had to get my shit together.

See a shrink, he'd suggested. He wasn't the first one to suggest it. Kara had been adamant about it then too, but I wasn't ready to hear it. I wasn't sure if I was ready to hear it now. I thought about it for a moment, rejected it, thought about it again, tucked it away.

I wanted to focus on what was more important now. I wanted to drop out of college, focus on work and what I could do to help Rick. I had fulfilled the deal I made with Rick a long time ago and graduated high school. The only reason I went to college was because Caleb's brother, Benjamin Lockhart, had convinced me to try it out, and Rick supported the idea. I tried it and it wasn't for me.

Besides I'd only see Kara there if I went. And the last thing I should be doing was making opportunities for myself to see her.

Forgetting her was impossible. I wouldn't even pretend I could do it. I still had all her things at my place. I tried to get rid of them but couldn't bring myself to do it. What I wanted was for her to... forget me.

I should clean up my place, my yard, concentrate on more projects—take over the ones out of town so I wouldn't be close to her. No, that was out of the question. If Rick needed me, I should be close by. Shit.

The four-story brick building peeked through thick green trees. Workers milled around, dust flying in the air when I pulled up. Elijah walked out of the front door and signalled me to come over.

"Hey, Cam."

"What's up?"

He took his hat off, raked his fingers in his hair, and adjusted his hat back on his head. "We're having problems with an order. I have to go meet with the supplier. Can you stay here for a couple hours?"

"Yeah, I can stay. But I have to get back to the hospital to pick up Rick around lunch time."

"I should be back by then. Thanks."

I nodded, and he left. Sweat trickled down the side of my face and my stomach as I went around the site. Other than a few small snags, everything was going smoothly. The roof had been replaced, the siding, the windows. There was a structural problem in the beginning, but that had been fixed. I was going through the checklist in my head when my phone rang. It was an unknown number.

"Saint Laurent."

"Hello, Mr. Saint Laurent. This is Antonio Dela Cruz."

"How can I help you?"

"I'm your father's lawyer. How are you?"

My heart sped up. I signalled to the foreman that I needed to take a call, walked to an empty room, and opened a window to let the air in.

"Don't think you called me to ask about my social life. Why is my father's lawyer calling me?"

"Your father has been arrested today." He waited a beat. "For fraud."

My heart dropped in my stomach. I gripped my phone. He was waiting for me to say something, but there were too many things tumbling inside my head.

"I would like you to know that I am not just your father's lawyer. I am also his trusted friend. He has advised me not to reach out to you about your trust fund, but I beg to differ. Your father needs all the help he can get. Please accept my sincerest apologies for reaching out to you, but it's a matter that can't be postponed. Can we meet?"

"No."

"Mr. Saint Laurent—"

"I'm sure you have all my information. Fax me the papers I need to sign. He can have all of it."

I clicked off. I'd never had a good relationship with my father, but a little over a year ago, he'd reached out to me. After a couple of years of not seeing him, I met him again at the hospital. He'd tried to take his life. I suspected because he knew this was going to happen. He never talked about it, and I never asked.

My relationship with him was strained at best. He was more a stranger to me than family while I was growing up. He never wanted me. I still had the angry child inside me that resented him whenever I saw him, but because Kara had encouraged me to hear him out, I had tried.

We always ended our dinner with an argument, but the difference from our fights back then and now was that we were both trying this time. That maybe we didn't have to hate each other eventually. And now this.

It was almost fifteen minutes past twelve by the time I got back to the hospital. A headache was bitching in my skull by the time I stepped out of the elevators to the dialysis floor, headed to Rick's room.

"Rick, wake up! Can you hear me?" The alarm in the voice made me rush inside his room. "I need help!"

I stood there, gripping the handrail for support as nurses rushed past me, as I watched them work on Rick. One of them asked me to stay back. I could feel the blood drain from my face and my knees give out at the sight. Rick was sitting on the recliner, in the same spot and the same position where I left him earlier, still hooked up in his machine, unconscious.

No, no. It can't be.

His nurse was in front of the dialysis machine, pressing a series of buttons. Another nurse flattened the recliner so that Rick was lying flat, then rushed to turn the dial in the oxygen tank and inserted the prongs in his nostrils, and another nurse raised his feet up.

"I gave him 300 ml of fluids," Priyanka told the nurse behind her, and walked beside Rick, touching his shoulder. "Rick? Can you hear me?"

When Rick opened his eyes, I collapsed against the wall. I tasted blood, realized I had bitten the inside of my mouth.

"Hi," he croaked out. "I can hear you."

"How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy. Only a little."

"Can you sit up?"

I went to help him, but the nurse signalled me to wait. Rick struggled, but he was able to sit up.

"BP is now one-ten over sixty. Are you okay? Still lightheaded?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm okay now."

"Are you okay to stand? I'd like to get your blood pressure."

"Why are you asking him to stand? He just passed out."

"Cam," Rick warned. It took him a moment, but he stood on his own.

"One-ten over sixty-eight. Would you like to rest here for a bit, Rick?"

"No," he answered. "I want to go home."

"What the hell? You should stay here for a while. I won't leave this time," I said. "I'll stay."

"I feel fine now. I just got up really fast and felt dizzy. Nothing to worry about."

"You scared the crap out of me," I said as soon as the nurse finished her procedure and left us.

"Yeah, well. I'm glad you're here to drive my ass home, kid. Wanna give me a piggyback ride?"

That day shook the hell out of me more than I wanted to admit. Rick had strongly refused to let me accompany him again to the hospital, but I made him promise to call me, Caleb, or Elijah if he couldn't reach me, to pick him up after his treatment if he felt weak to drive. I was his emergency contact, and I had talked to the charge nurse to phone me if anything happens.

I hadn't heard anything from my father or his lawyer after that day. Whatever I thought or felt about my father, he was still my blood. I didn't want to, but I worried about him and wished him well. If his intention of reaching out to me was to take my trust fund for his own interests, no matter what his lawyer claimed, so be it.

It seemed that every time I found my strength to stand, something else knocks me down. This time I couldn't afford to stay down, but I wondered when and if a rest stop was in the cards for me.

One small step at a time.

That night I never expected to see Kara. I was planning it to be my last day with the basketball team. I was going to say goodbye to Coach, to the team after practice. And then there she was, sitting on the bleachers, just like I'd seen her so many times before.

For a moment I thought she was there for me, and it made me happy for a second, until I realize she wasn't.

My chest ached every time I saw her there. She was more beautiful than ever, and I wanted her to run to me, tell me everything was going to be all right, that it was all just a bad fucking nightmare. And that I'd wake up beside her.

When she didn't come back, I followed her outside, worried sick that something might have happened to her. So, when I saw her almost faint outside the South Gym, especially with what happened with Rick still fresh in my memory, I felt terrified. I had to touch her, even when I swore to myself I would never again. I had to make sure she was all right, and maybe then I could let her go.

She looked pale, her eyes wide and glassy and sad. One thing I knew about her was that if she was angry, she'd bulldozed her way out of her sadness. But that also meant she'd destroy whatever was in the way. And that was me.

Her words were like a whip, the damage incredible and painful. But it was no more than I deserved. Then she started crying. Her small voice asking, why did you leave me? I lost my shit. It was game over for me.

I forgot everything. My convictions, my intentions, everything that I swore not to do, and claimed her lips. But then she said the words she'd said to me in my nightmare.

Cam, talk to me.

My heart stopped. I wouldn't lose her like that. I wouldn't let her get hurt like that. Not Kara. I had to get her the hell away from me. Nothing good will come from being associated with me.

My father was a criminal, and I... If my nightmare was real, I would be a murderer. The thought sickened me, made my blood run cold in my veins. I refused to explore it, to think about it.

She must hate me for what I had said and done to her. And all I could do for her was give her relief by giving her the knife to hurt me, hoping that would bring her some sick sense of relief.

Sick of myself, I got into my motorcycle and drove to Caleb's place.

"You look like shit," Caleb said as soon as I walked in his living room.

"I feel like shit."

He threw me a beer, and I parked myself on his couch. I wanted to be alone, but I was afraid of what I would do tonight if I was.

Caleb seemed restless, looking at his phone every few seconds. He didn't look like he wanted to talk about whatever was bothering him. I definitely didn't want to talk about mine. So, I closed my eyes and willed myself to shut down and sleep. It was impossible. I laid there, thinking of Kara's face, Kara's scent, Kara's kiss, Kara's words... they were all imprinted in my brain.

But especially the look in her eyes when I asked her if she fucked that other guy. I wanted to say some stupid shit that would make her angry and push her away. But when she didn't answer, I knew that she must have. Kara wouldn't sleep with anyone unless she'd given her heart to them first. I knew that very well.

Suddenly it hit me in that moment how thoroughly fucked I was. I had lost everything because I had lost her. Because up until that moment, I deluded myself that she still somehow belonged with me. That it was only me she had given her heart to.

A short, mocking laugh full of self-hatred came out, directed at me. I wanted to laugh and howl and curse at the ridiculousness of myself, of the situation. I had her in my hands, everything that I dreamt of and wished for without even knowing I did, snatched away from my hands. And it was all my fault.

I laughed because if I didn't, I'd weep and go mad. I laughed because it was hopeless and I was watching my whole world burn in front of me and I couldn't do anything about it if I wanted to keep her safe.

She didn't belong in my world, no matter how hard I wished her to be.

Restless, heart heavy, I got up, wanting to wash my face. I needed to get my shit together. The sound of Caleb's voice, trying hard to be quiet stopped me in my tracks. I was going to turn around and walk to the balcony instead when I heard his words.

"No, you won't. But I will." Caleb sighed. "Red?"

There was a pause. He was waiting for the other person to answer him. And then, he said quietly, "Don't break my heart."

Caleb has a girl. I figured if he wanted me to know he'd tell me. I never heard him say anything remotely close to what I heard him say on the phone to the girl.

I walked away, stepped into the balcony, and wished for a cigarette.

Tell me two lies. One for you and the other for me.

I wished that one day she'd forget about me. I wished that one day she would move on but never stop hating me. I wish that one day I wouldn't mean anything to her. I wish that one day not even the sound of my name would make her remember me.

I could tell her a lot of lies. I had them all stored inside me for so long. And every one of them belonged to her.

But the truth was that I would never belong to anyone but her for the rest of my life.

If Kara wanted to break my heart, I'd tell her she can break mine anytime she wanted.
*

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, loves. I wanted to give you something for the new year. Happy New Year to you and yours! Love, Isabelle