Chapter Twelve

Sophie

When I saw the text message, I almost froze. I hadn’t really sent text messages since the fateful one that ended my brother’s life and altered mine forever. Then I saw it was from Cam, and I forced myself to read it. After all, he didn’t know. How could he?

I caught up on emails, trying to ignore the ones from Katie and my mother, which I had flagged. I still hadn’t figured out what to do, which usually meant I’d ignore them until I’d decided it was too late to respond. I had my routines. Of course, part of my routine also involved work, and at the moment, I was fresh out of ideas. Everything I considered felt too dark for my style.

“What’s wrong?” Cam asked.

“Nothing.” I shrugged.

“Great. Hey, and next time, be sure to tell me you’re fine too. Guys love that.” He rolled his eyes while he puttered around in my kitchen like he belonged there and had been part of my life forever.

“Fine.” I huffed. Then I giggled. “Sorry!”

“Right. Well, speak up, kitten. I’m waiting.” He watched me while stirring the bisque.

“I have no idea what to do right now for nail designs. I have way too many dark thoughts after the fire. I’m talking flames and ugliness. Melting. Just . . . completely against my norm.” I sighed.

“I don’t suppose you’ve considered that this is October, and you can use the dark to your advantage.” He nodded. “Go for a Halloween theme while you work this out.”

I laughed. “And what if this goes into November and December?”

Cam made a face. “It won’t.”

“How can you be so certain? I swear, half the time I’m not sure about anything.” I leaned forward on the table and rubbed my temples.

Setting the spoon down on the counter, he made his way over to me and rubbed my shoulders. “I’ll love the sadness right out of you, if you’ll let me.”

I sucked in a breath. I didn’t know what to say, so I just focused on breathing. His words sounded a lot like a declaration of love, and I wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet, or maybe ever. How much more vulnerable could I make myself to this guy? Hadn’t I already given him my virginity? Where did it end? No one would ever be able to hurt me as badly as he could, and that was really saying something. C. J. had done a number on me. Finally I whispered, “OK.” And I meant it. Cameron loving me was definitely OK with me.

He wrapped his arms around me and brushed his lips against my temple. “Good. Now I need to go flip the grilled cheese. The soup is done.” As he strode toward the kitchen, he murmured, “You know, if you get really stuck, you can always go back to the beginning.”

I perked up. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Something my mother used to say. Something about tracking back to where it all began, where I was last happy. That’s the best way to fix things.” He picked up a spatula and turned his attention to our lunch.

I nodded and rested my head on my folded hands. Where did this all begin? I frowned. With Katie. I had tried to convince her to branch out into the nails. We had notebooks of designs. After my brother died, I refused to get in front of the camera anymore. Instead, she was the model, and viewers would hear my voice but never see my face. Katie loved the spotlight. It worked out well for both of us. Then she decided she needed to get serious if she was going to go into journalism. So that part of my life ended, and Simply Sophie began. I had tried to lure her into my dream by laying out the plan. I had so many drawings and an entire social media strategy prepared, but she was adamant. Eventually, I gave up. Somehow, I’d never reclaimed my notebooks when I moved into my new place and she’d gone off to school. Through the years, Katie reminded me about them. “Go get them. My mom would love to see you,” she’d urge periodically. Maybe this was the time. Maybe Cam would ride with me for support. After all, I hadn’t seen her family for more than five years.

“Lunch, kitten. You want to eat there or over here at the counter?” Cam held a tray with our food up as he hovered near the island.

“I’ll be over in a second.” I offered a slight smile. “I think I have an idea. You may be right,” I commented.

“Oh, I’m right a lot. What am I right about this time?” He chuckled.

“Going back to the beginning.”

“How about you go back to the beginning after we go to a therapist?” Cam studied me while rubbing his hands on his pants.

I tilted my head. “I don’t know. I mean . . .”

His brow furrowed. “You said you want to be different with me. Let’s get better together.” He blew out a breath. “I know I can’t be who you need, who you deserve the way I am now. You’re the motivation I need to become the man I should be.”

My eyes widened. “You plan to really go, then? Not just sit and listen to me talk about my screwed-up youth that made me the ill-adjusted chick I am?”

Cam nodded. “Yeah. I need to do something. I’ve fought it. I thought if I could just stay busy enough, I’d forget. I’d get better. Unfortunately, as you saw, it’s not working.”

I reached out and touched his hand, slightly startled that I initiated contact. We were silent for several seconds before I finally inhaled deeply and threw my shoulders back. “OK. Whom should we call?”

Pulling out his wallet, Cam searched in the billfold, and finally, his fingers emerged with a purple business card. “These are the resources available in Charlotte. Some are public. I don’t know how soon we could get in . . .” His voice trailed off as he watched for my reaction.

I licked my lips. “I don’t want to chicken out. Let’s call around. You on your phone, me on mine, until we can find someone who can take both of us today.” I shrugged. “It’s the end of the week, and I have open availability. You?”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Absolutely.”

I wondered how he could be a firefighter and have so much time off, but I chose not to question it. He was a grown-ass man, and I trusted him to do the right thing. “Ready. Set. Go!” I began a search on Safari, which pulled up every place close to us and continued with balloons marking locations even farther out. Soon I was sitting at my desk and he was hunched over the island while we worked to find a therapist. I lucked out on only my fifth phone call.

“I know it’s short notice,” I began, “but is there any chance you can fit in two people today?”

“You mean couples therapy?” the receptionist asked.

I blew out a breath. My heart was pounding. “No, I mean two people with different issues who want to be there to support each other through our healing processes. Can we do something like that?” I listened to the silence, preparing myself for the inevitable rejection.

“Only if you can be here in half an hour. We had a last-minute cancellation,” the receptionist chirped in her perky voice.

I waved at Cam, and he ended his call and came closer. “So you need our names?” I began to feed her the basics for me. “Let me pass him the phone so you can add his information.”

“We can fill in his information from the paperwork. Any chance you can be here fifteen minutes early?” I could hear her tapping on the keyboard.

“So the appointment starts in half an hour, but you want us there in fifteen minutes?” My brows rose as I waited for Cam’s reaction. He shrugged. “OK, I’m not going to be pretty, but we’ll do it.” Then I ended the call. “I guess this is happening. Also, we need to leave two minutes ago.” I chuckled nervously. As I stood, Cam wrapped his arms around me.

“This is a good thing. I have to believe this is better than what we’ve been doing.” He squeezed me a little closer. “Shall we go?”

I nodded, my eyes wide as I tried to imagine what my official diagnosis would be. After all, the best I’d managed so far came from WebMD. And once I’d seen the word phobia, I’d Googled the list and tallied my terrors. “What if they prescribe drugs?”

Cam chuckled. “We take them.”

I frowned. “They never worked for my brother.”

He was silent as he gently moved me toward the door. I grabbed my purse as we passed the sofa table. I’d passed Cam my keys with shaking hands, and he locked up behind us. In the car, I silently stared out the window. Admitting everything out loud was going to be rough.

“You can do this, kitten. I believe in you.” He grinned at me.

When I stared into his eyes, I almost believed him.

Cameron

 

We’d filled out our paperwork and signed our HIPAAs, writing each other in so we could stay together during the appointments. Dr. Sloane sat down in the armchair across from us, where we were seated on the sofa. He pulled out his pad and began to scribble notes. “Normally, being a gentleman, I’d have Sophie speak first, but today, let’s start with you, Cam.”

I nodded and rubbed my moist palms on my pants legs before leaning over and resting my elbows on my thighs. “OK, where? I mean, I had a pretty normal, boring childhood. My problems started in the marines.”

“Then start there.” He smiled and nodded.

I bit my lower lip. This made me feel weak, but I knew I had to be strong for Sophie. I knew why he had me go first. Beside me, Sophie stared at the ground while picking at a cuticle. I took a deep breath. “I joined right out of high school. I did well. I’m athletic. I’m an excellent shot. Though I planned to stay stateside and work on a base, I was moved to the infantry side of things.” I shrugged. “The dark side of being an excellent shot.”

To my surprise, Sophie reached out and held my hand, offering comfort to both of us. I glanced at the doctor to see if he approved. He nodded, and I decided to keep going.

“I still trained as a medic and for fire. All this helped in the field. But most of all, they needed my shooting skills.” I rubbed my face with one hand. Already my mind was flooded with memories of the experience, none good. “I adapted well enough to the climate change. I loved the marine brotherhood, but being marines made us targets.”

“How long were you there?” Dr. Sloane asked.

“I did two tours and came home toward the end of my second. Luckily, my time was almost up, so I couldn’t go back. I’m not sure I’d have survived that . . . mentally.” I squeezed Sophie’s hand and stared at the doctor. “It’s not just seeing death, having to kill people. It’s seeing guys in my platoon get killed, watching them die, and not being able to save them. And it’s not like it was one time. It happened too much.” I shook my head. “I see it in my sleep. I have nightmares. I want them to stop.”

“Have you tried meds?” he wondered.

Beside me, Sophie sighed.

“No,” I responded. “I’m not really depressed. It’s the lack of sleep, the interrupted sleep.”

“Does anything make it better?” He stared at me evenly.

My cheeks colored, and I glanced at him shyly. “Sleeping with Sophie next to me. Holding her like my human teddy bear. That was the only time I haven’t had a nightmare.”

He scribbled on his pad. “I’m going to prescribe a pill that will help you get a more restful sleep. And I think we need to talk through some of this, see what we can do to treat the PTSD.” Dr. Sloane studied Sophie. “You know, there are service dogs for this, service animals . . . that help you keep your emotions in check. You seem to have found that in another person.”

“Well, I don’t call her kitten for nothing,” I joked.

The doctor smiled. “Your turn, Sophie. How can I help?”

“What do you prescribe for someone who’s afraid of everything?” she asked wryly.

“Are you talking phobias or anxiety?” His head tilted as he considered her question.

“According to WebMD . . .”

Dr. Sloane chuckled. “WebMD is the devil. People spend time diagnosing themselves instead of seeking help. Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll give you a second opinion.”

She began to relate the same information she’d told me the other night, about her brother’s suicide and her family’s move to the homestead. “My parents were so distraught, they didn’t have anything left for me. So I did my own thing.” She shrugged. “And then the phobias started.”

“You keep using the word phobia. What makes you think it’s a phobia?” The doctor watched her quietly.

“It’s so debilitating, I’m pretty much a recluse. I hate people . . .” Sophie threw her hands in the air.

“Who doesn’t hate people? There are entirely too many bad guys in the world.” He jerked his head toward me. “But you like Cam. So you don’t hate all people. You just have trust issues, which is completely understandable.” Dr. Sloane tugged at his chin. “Honestly, I think you’re struggling with anxiety, not phobias.”

Her brows rose. “What’s the difference?”

“Hope. And treatment.” He smiled warmly at her. “I think you could live a really normal life, if you want. We’ll start with meds. We’ll work on coping mechanisms. You’ll be a whole new woman before you know it.”

Sophie frowned. “I don’t want to be on meds forever. I don’t want to be dependent on drugs.”

“I think in time you could wean off them.” Dr. Sloane nodded encouragingly.

While I watched, her eyes brightened. “Really?”

There was a childlike innocence in her question. I brought her hand up to my lips and grazed her knuckles. “See, not so scary, kitten.” I grinned. “We’re gonna do the work. We’ll take the meds. And we’ll create a better, different life together.”

When she turned to face me, her eyes shined with tears. “I actually believe you.” Then she glanced at the doctor. “Thank you.”

After we left the office, we drove to the nearest pharmacy and filled our prescriptions. A calm had come over Sophie. “What’s going on in your head?” I asked as I rubbed her thigh while we drove back to the cottage.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” She blew out a breath. “I know I haven’t started the meds yet, but I actually feel better knowing. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, you know?” She smiled and shrugged as she stuck her prescription in her purse.

“I get it. I feel the same way.” My shoulders sagged with relief.

Once we entered the house, I started toward the bathroom with my prescription. “Want me to put yours in the bathroom?” I offered.

Sophie shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll keep mine in my purse.” She must’ve noticed my furrowed brow because she added, “I keep all my emergency pills in here.” She opened the zipper of her purse to show me her new prescription, plus a pack of Tums, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a handful of throat lozenges.

“Gotcha. I’ll be right back.” I disappeared into the bathroom. By the time I returned to the kitchen, my stomach was growling. We’d grabbed a snack while we were out, but I was still hungry. “Mind if I have dessert?” I asked after we entered the house. Almost immediately, Sophie had decided to get some work done. Though she had been relaxed after the seeing the doctor, now she was faced with looming deadlines, I could see the panic lurking under the surface.

“Of course not. And . . . stop asking.” Sophie tried to laugh but struggled to hide her true emotions as she paced around in front of her open laptop.

“Why would I stop asking?” I frowned.

“Because that implies you’re a guest.” She pulled the collar of her T-shirt up under her nose and turned her attention back to her laptop.

I leaned back against the counter, crossed my ankles, and reclined against the marble. “I’m not a guest?”

She dropped her shirt, shook her head fervently, and glanced at me with a serious look on her face. “No, you stopped being that the moment we had sex. This”—she gestured around to encompass the room—“is something completely different.”

“What is it, then?” I grinned. In my head, Queen Bey was singing and dancing to “Single Ladies.” I planned to put a ring on her. The crush I’d nursed for years had morphed into so much more.

“Not now. I can’t concentrate on this at the moment. I think I’m onto something. I have a contract. I have to release a new video every week. And a week goes by fast.” She shook her head.

“OK.” I blew out a breath and scanned the room for something to do. “I’m gonna eat some pie, then start a fire, and finally . . . I plan to convince you to try some day drinking.” I winked when I realized she was finally paying attention to me again.

Her head tilted. “Day drinking. I never day drink. Hell, I barely night drink.” Her head hung, and she crossed her arms over her body. “Mostly because of that no-drinking-alone rule, and . . . I spend a lot of time alone.”

I crossed the floor to stand behind her and laid my hands on her shoulders. “You’re not alone now. Let’s make the most of our time.”

“By drinking?” She scrunched up her face at me.

“Kitten, you’re stressed the fuck out, and your anxiety meds are supposed to be taken at bedtime, which is a good ten or more hours away. I just want you to relax. Trying to force creativity only makes it more elusive.” I relinquished my grip and wandered over to the pie. “If I eat only one slice, there will be one lonely slice left.”

Behind me, Sophie snickered. “Then you should eat all of it, and once you’re finished, you can build a fire so I can make s’mores.”

I turned around and narrowed my eyes at her. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

With a laugh, she nodded. “I’d love it, but let’s not day drink. Let’s relax and get to know each other. You’re right about my being stressed. I’ll take a break and spend time with you.” She shrugged. “Can you live with that?”

“Absolutely. It sounds perfect.” I sighed happily.

Sophie studied the clock. “And I suppose while you’re doing that, I should get the roast in the Crock-Pot if we plan to eat before midnight. It needs a solid six hours to get tender.” Then she began moving about the kitchen and prepping the vegetables before loading her Crock-Pot.

While I devoured the pie, I watched her work. She wasn’t putting on airs or pretending to be anything other than who she was. In my life, I’d learned to place a high value on those who were real and honest. Around her, I felt safe to think. In the time we’d been together, I’d allowed my mind to wander, as opposed to staying so focused and tightly wound I could blot out the dark thoughts. Sophie brought a light to my life I’d nearly forgotten existed.

Why, just yesterday, I’d realized that relationships are really built on a series of moments, the little things you never realize matter until you have them or you don’t. Already I knew I would make a fool of myself for this woman, if only to hear her laugh and see her smile. I’d gladly work alongside her in the kitchen, just for a chance at an accidental graze. Most of all, I’d give up everything I have, everything I am, if it meant a chance at forever with her. Sophie mattered that much. I would do anything to help her and enrich her life. She’d already done more for me than she could ever imagine. Thus, time passed while I was lost in my mind, and she caught me shaking my head.

“What is it?” Her brow furrowed while she studied me.

“This is really nice. I watched my parents growing up. They made having a loving marriage look simple, but I never had any luck with it. I had my heart set on one girl. Oh, and my brother . . . whew.” I rolled my eyes. “He went through girls like some people blow through toilet paper.”

“He didn’t have one girl?” Sophie teased.

“Eh. He dated this girl on and off. They about ruled the school.” I thought back to Katie and P. J.’s teen romance.

“Ah, but it didn’t last.” She nodded knowingly.

“No, they were both too cold, too opportunistic. The relationship had less to do with feelings and everything to do with status and making the best match.” I shrugged.

With a giggle, Sophie replied, “I swear you just described Katie to a T. She dated someone on and off through high school. She refused to talk about it. Always claimed I wouldn’t understand because I never had a boyfriend.” She leaned closer to me. “I think she just didn’t want me to know whom she was dating. I doubt she wanted my input. Clearly, it had nothing to do with my feelings.”

I held out my arms to her. “Come here. We’re different from them. I’m nothing like my brother. You’re nothing like Katie. This is real and healthy and . . . all heart.”

Sophie leaned her head against my chest and melted into me while I wrapped her in my embrace. “Sounds like they deserve each other, though.” She sucked in a guilty breath. “That was mean, huh?”

“Not if it’s true.” I chuckled. “Let’s forget about them and focus on us, OK?”

She smiled up at me. “I can do that.”

Soon I was stoking the fire, and my girl was roasting marshmallows. The sun was sinking in the sky. We hadn’t turned on any lights, relying completely on what little the flickering flames produced. Watching Sophie turn the barbecue fork in her hand, the way she focused so intently on toasting her marshmallow to perfection made me smile. I lounged on the floor, propped up on my side by one elbow. In front of me was a tray she’d set out with graham crackers and Hershey bars prepared and waiting for the marshmallows.

“Are you sure you have enough chocolate here?” I teased.

Sophie studied her setup, with each cracker covered by half a candy bar. “I have more. You think we need more?” She gnawed on the inside of her cheek before glancing at me.

I grinned and watched her soften. “I can’t wait to taste this. I think it’s a masterpiece. I love s’mores. Always have. We used to go camping every summer, me and my family, before my brother turned straight-up asshole and made every experience miserable.” I rubbed my forehead at the memory. “Even now, my one happy thought from that time was the s’mores. They were our nightly treat, the one time my brother’s mouth was too busy to be hateful.”

“Sounds . . . lovely?” Sophie frowned. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t do nature, not anymore. The homestead ruined it for me. Although I do have some experience with hateful brothers.” She pulled the marshmallow from the flames and sandwiched it between the chocolate and crackers. With a smile, she passed it to me.

“Ladies first,” I urged.

“Can’t do it.” She shook her head. “I’ve gotta make the second marshmallow. It’s far too important a job for me to leave to you.” Then she giggled, and I melted.

“Fine.” I released an exaggerated sigh. “Let’s see how your s’mores stack up to my memories.” I chuckled as I held it in front of my face and opened wide. I took one big messy bite that left crumbs in my scruff along with a sweet and sticky residue all around the corners of my mouth. My eyelids lowered, and I moaned in pleasure. “Oh my God.”

“And that was a foodgasm if I ever saw one.” Sophie laughed quietly while focusing on her task. “I guess mine held up OK.”

“OK? My mom never made a s’more like this.” I shook my head and stared at her. “It’s the double chocolate. You’re a genius.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Ugh, you’re sticky!” She wiped at her face while feigning disgust.

“Want me to lick it off?” I waggled my brows.

She froze, and I sensed she might be considering it. “No,” she hesitantly responded.

“Want to make me one every night?” My brows rose hopefully.

Sophie licked her lips. “There are tons of s’mores recipes on Pinterest. What if we try a new kind every night?”

“So you’re asking me to try new things and make memories with you every night?” My heart raced. She wasn’t rushing to get rid of me. I seemed to be getting more deeply ensconced in her life by the minute. “Yeah. I think we should.” I nodded enthusiastically. “Hey, what if we pick together?”

“You wanna share a board with me?” She smirked. “This is a big commitment,” she joked.

“A board, a bed, a life . . .” I smiled broadly. “Yes, Sophie, this will be our first of many projects.”