Chapter Eight

Sophie

“What are you thinking?” Cam asked as he returned from the basement with a couple of jars of pasta sauce in his hands.

Something about being around him made me downright brazen. I shook my head as I puttered around the kitchen, working to put away all the food we weren’t eating immediately. Apparently, he caught me. “Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He chuckled. “Wanna know what I’m thinking? I’ll tell you anything.” Despite his words, I watched him wince when he’d finished.

I studied him carefully. “What was it like being a marine? Why didn’t you stay in, make it a career?”

Cam rubbed his forehead. Already I’d managed to hit on a sore subject. This was pretty much my gift. I opened my mouth, ready to let him off the hook, when he interrupted me and responded to the question. “The brotherhood. I liked that. I hadn’t had that growing up. Despite having a brother, he had more of an ‘every man for himself’ attitude when it came to life.” He blew out a breath. “I loved being part of a team. I loved the idea of doing something important with my life.”

“Being a firefighter is incredibly important,” I agreed as I filled a pot with hot water. Then I carried it over to the gas stovetop, salted the water, and turned the flame on high.

“Yes, and while my dream was always to play for the NFL, I gave it up.” He glanced at me and shook his head. “It’s a long story. Instead, I settled and decided to be practical, which was the reason I went with firefighter and EMT.” Cam chuckled. “Still, to find a position around here, I knew I needed something more to give me an edge over some of the competition. There are so many candidates vying for so few openings in this city, which is odd since the job barely pays a living wage.” He blew out a breath. “I needed to live a life of service. I decided back in middle school there were far more important things than money.”

“Why a life of service? What’s more important than having enough money?” I studied him as I prepared to slice romaine lettuce.

“The service . . . was all about atonement. And as for money, well, it ranks far behind honor . . . loyalty . . .” Cam swallowed hard before adding, “Love.” He rubbed the back of his neck while averting his eyes. “Want me to work on the chicken?”

“Nah, I’ll get it next.” I shrugged.

“OK, if you have the salad, pasta, and chicken under control, how am I supposed to help?” He leaned on the island and waited for my response.

I had no idea how to respond. Mostly, I needed him to go down to the basement, which he’d already accomplished. If I was being completely honest, I also wanted his company. Quite frankly, I was more than accustomed to doing everything myself.

“Bread?” he asked hopefully.

I shook my head.

“Peel apples?” His brow rose.

“Nah.” I bit my lower lip, feeling more than a little guilty about the false pretenses.

“Wine?” He stood and crossed his arms over his chest.

Finally I nodded. “Wine would be perfect.”

He wandered over to select a bottle from the several we’d purchased during our shopping trip. I had already set out the corkscrew and the glasses. In a matter of seconds, Cam had opened it and poured us a couple of glasses.

My hand trembled slightly when he turned and passed me mine. More than anything, I needed to get a little liquid courage in me. I started to raise the glass to take a quick swig, but he laid a hand on my arm to stop me. “What?” My brow furrowed and my lips puckered, ready to connect with the glass.

“Tonight is monumental, whether you realize it or not.” Cam blew out a breath. “We need to toast or something.”

“What if you toast and I drink?” I pushed against his hand, hoping he’d take the hint and let me at least have a sip.

“What if you wait just a cotton-picking minute?” He snickered.

With a sigh, my shoulders slumped as I admitted defeat. “Talk fast,” I grumbled.

Cam brushed the back of his hand over my cheek. “Fine. I’ll toast.” He inhaled deeply, and I realized he was nervous as he tried to seek out his words.

“Maybe you need a drink?” I teased.

“You’re impossible.” He shook his head. “And that’s actually one of the things I admire about you. You’re amazing and beautiful. You’re innovative and determined.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to my forehead. “And as a marine, trust me when I say you’re the bravest person I know. I’m so honored to be here with you, Sophie. Thank you for letting me in.”

“Well, you had an ax,” I quipped. “Can I drink now?”

With a chuckle, Cam murmured, “Take that drink, kitten. And maybe one day, you’ll even open up to me.”

His words pained me, but I tried to hide it by taking a big gulp of wine from my glass. After I peeled and cored apples, then pulled out a frozen piecrust, I agonized over what he’d said. I wanted to let him in, but I had a terrible history with sharing and that was with Katie’s assistance. Imagine how I could muck things up all on my own.

By the time dinner was ready and we’d eaten, I’d begun to believe all was forgotten. Then we cleaned up together. While I washed and he dried, Cam announced, “You’re an even better cook than my mom.” He shook his head in wonder. “Don’t ever tell her I said that. She’d be completely destroyed. She has spent her whole life as a housewife. If she knew you ran a six-figure business from home while looking like this”—he gestured from my head down to my toes—“and cooking like that, she’d feel completely defeated.”

I tilted my head while I toyed with correcting his assumption about my income. This year, I was poised to earn seven figures just from my royalties and advertising. Instead, I commented, “Well, I don’t have kids. So there’s that.”

Cam cleared his throat. “Do you want kids?” Then he focused on drying the baking dish I’d used for the chicken Parmesan while intentionally avoiding my eyes.

Leaning on the sink, I stared out the window into the dark cool night. “I stopped dreaming about that.” I blew out a breath. “Who could live with me, let alone love me?” Then I reached down and pulled the plug on the dishwater. It belched a few times while water raced down the pipes. I dried my hands on the towel I’d slung over my shoulder while I worked, and then I hung it to dry on the oven door. “There. That’s done. Now we can relax.”

“I’ll build that fire,” Cam announced. He disappeared outside for several minutes, and when he returned, his arms were loaded with wood. Without speaking to me, he strode into the great room and set to work while I sat at my computer on the opposite side of the room.

I rather enjoyed seeing him puttering around the house. To me, it looked like hope. Tearing my attention away from Cam, I focused on the computer screen as it flashed to life. I made short work of ordering my replacement phone. Without hesitation, I paid the exorbitant fees to have the damn thing overnighted. The hard part was going to be catching up. I’d been offline for so long, I was bound to have a ridiculous amount of emails requiring response. Then there was the video I’d have to create. I hadn’t even decided on a theme yet. Sighing in frustration, I opened my email and quickly deleted the spam until scrolling brought me to one that was almost completely unexpected, and one I was surprised hadn’t come sooner. I opened Katie’s first. The subject line was About earlier.

Sighing, I frowned as I scanned her message.

 

Sophie,

 

The party last night went well, even though it was shortened by the fire. Thanks for asking.

The guy I’m seeing stopped by. I hope things work out with him. He’s pretty much what I’ve always wanted. He’s completely unexpected and a huge departure from all the jerks I dated in college.

If things go well in the coming week, I may get to meet his parents this weekend. Wish me luck.

 

Katie

 

Typical Katie. She was a complete bitch and still trying to make me feel badly for being upset with her. And true to form, she wanted to twist this to make it look like I was the one out of line. For the first time, I was beginning to wonder why we were still friends.

“Was I out of line?” I threw my hands up in frustration without considering Cam had no idea what I was talking about.

His brow furrowed for a split second. “Is this about Katie?” After I nodded, he huffed. “No. She was out of line. She has always been out of line.” He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more. Instead, he shook his head and stared into the flames.

“OK. Good. Thank you for that.” I blew out a breath. “She has this gift for making me think I’m wrong, and I injured her.”

“Manipulative as they come,” Cam muttered. He stood slowly and turned to me. “My brother is the same way. My mother messaged me earlier and told me he’s seeing someone. I feel sorry for the girl. He isn’t marriage material. Hell, I’m not sure why anyone would even want to date him.” He chuckled.

“Maybe he’s good-looking?” I snickered as Cam made a face. “OK. Maybe it’s like you said earlier. Chicks love bad boys.”

“Why is that?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

I bit my bottom lip. “Personally, I have no idea, but I’m guessing from what Katie says, they like the idea of reforming them.”

“That’s just stupid. Shouldn’t we love each other the way we are?”

My brows rose, and I blinked a few times.

Realizing his mistake, Cam corrected himself. “I mean . . . shouldn’t people love each other the way they are, you know?”

I nodded. “I do, but aren’t there people worth changing for, especially if you see you need to change?”

His head tilted as he studied me.

“And by you, I mean . . .”

“I know what you mean, Soph. You’re right. Changing together is a good thing.” He nodded quietly, his eyes fixed on me.

I chewed my cheek and considered his words. After all, hadn’t we talked about changing, about my needing to see a doctor? I swallowed hard and closed out the email, unsure of how to respond at the moment. “I want Katie to be happy,” I mumbled. “Maybe she’d be nicer then.” I smirked.

Cam sank back down on the floor, a pensive look on his face, and turned toward the fire. “You should come join me,” he murmured.

“In a minute.” Then I tried to mentally prepare for the second email. Unfortunately, this seemed to be impossible, and I covered my mouth with my hand as I quickly sucked in a breath.

“What’s up?” Cam asked from across the room.

“Nothing,” I lied as I folded my hands in my lap.

“Right. Well, nothing doesn’t make a person gasp. Wanna talk about it?” He stood slowly and began to move closer to me.

“Stay there,” I blurted out as I struggled with whether to delete the email or save it for later. “Focus on the fire. I’ll be over soon. We can have s’mores.” My mind raced almost as quickly as my heart.

“You made pie. I thought we were having that with the ice cream.” Cam studied me, and I knew he saw through me.

“You can have both. Have whatever you want. Just . . . give me a minute.” My hands shook, and I decided to click on it to open it. After all, my parents had given up on me years ago. Living off the grid, they had little contact with the outside world in the form of electronic luxuries, but they probably still had more friends they spent time with than I ever would.

When I was confident his attention was elsewhere, I opened the email and knotted my hand in my shirt, pulling the front up until it was just under my nose. Taking a deep breath, I began to read.

 

Dearest Sophie,

 

Your father and I heard about the fire last night. I’m so sorry to learn you may have lost everything. Yes, I realize you never told us where you live, but we’re your parents, and we’ll always find you. Hope this doesn’t make you too uncomfortable. It’s just because we love you and sleep better knowing you’re safe, even if you don’t want to talk to us.

In case you were wondering, your father and I are doing just fine for two old folks. Hitting our fifties last year was no picnic. No matter how clean the living, the body eventually starts to break down. The early years truly are the best years of your life. I hope you’re not squandering yours, Sophie. I hope you find peace. I hope you have friends. I hope you find love. Most of all, though, I hope you find whatever it is that will make you whole and bring you back to us one day.

The garden is thriving. The goats are providing more milk than we could’ve imagined. So much cheese! We’re selling our wares around. Maybe you’ve seen our products? Sophie Dylan Farms. That’s us. We love what we do. We’re mostly happy. We just miss you so much it hurts. Oh, and not some theoretical mental thing. I have this constant physical ache. I hope to one day hug you again.

Be safe. Be well. If you need anything—a place to stay, clothes, or money—we’re always here for you.

Love you, dear girl.

 

Mom (& Dad)

 

I was so caught up in the email, I’d pretty much forgotten Cam was here until I closed the laptop and covered my eyes. Soon hands were rubbing my back. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even want to pull away like I normally would. Instead, I stood and walked into him. I think I surprised him, but I don’t care. He adapted well enough. His arms were soon around me, and then he picked me up and carried me to the couch. As I sat on his lap, he rocked me and murmured words of comfort.

“I’m here, Soph. Hush. It’ll be OK. I’ll just hold you as long as you want, as long as you need.” He pressed his lips to my forehead and crushed me to his chest.

“Then you’ll be stuck forever,” I whispered.

“Gladly,” he admitted. “And when you’re ready, I need to know what happened to you.”

Cameron

 

She slowly raised her face and stared up at me with big watery eyes. “What do you mean?” she quietly asked.

“Kitten, were you always this scared? So far, I’ve counted roughly . . . I don’t know, say, five or six phobias.” I caressed her cheek while I studied her reaction. Sophie had always seemed skittish.

“Oh, I have way more than that,” she joked. Then she sighed and looked away. “Are you ready for pie or s’mores or the both I offered to shut you up last time?” She chuckled and rolled off my lap. “I’ll pull everything out while you decide.”

Already in the kitchen, she began carrying items from the pantry. Soon she emerged holding graham crackers, marshmallows, and Hershey bars in her arms and set them on the island next to the open wine bottle. She walked to the freezer and grabbed the ice cream. The pie was cooling on the counter. For a moment, she stared at it, seemingly lost in thought.

“What will you be having?” I asked quietly.

Startled, Sophie straightened. “I’m going with wine and chocolate.” Reaching for the bottle, she poured another glass and quickly took a sip.

“I’m going with pie. Want me to cut you a slice?” I offered as I gathered a plate from the cabinet, a fork from the drawer, and a knife from the butcher block on the counter.

“I’m good.” She frowned and took another sip.

I quickly sliced the pie into six pieces and hauled the first slice out onto the plate. Then I moved to the island, slid the ice cream past her, and brought it to the counter, where I doled out two healthy scoops. “And let’s go eat.” I chuckled.

Sophie seemed frozen in place. While I watched, she nodded numbly but refused to move. Following her cue, I stuffed the ice cream back in the freezer, then joined her at the island with my pie in hand.

I took a huge bite of the still-warm pie, and a moan built in my throat. “Oh my Lord,” I began. “I watched you make it and still was unprepared for this experience. The crumb topping is incredible. The apples are perfection. You have me doubting my mother ever actually baked a pie. I’m beginning to think she passed off Mrs. Smith’s or something.”

She showed no signs of softening. Periodically, she would raise the glass to her lips while I devoured the dessert. Part of me wanted to join her in enjoying the wine, but instead, I decided to let her have it in the hopes she might loosen up.

By the time I picked up my plate, finished cleaning up after myself, and turned around to address her, I found Sophie staring at me. “What’d I do?” My voice sounded more pained than I intended, but I’d been waiting ten years to ask her that very question, ever since she’d disappeared on me.

Sophie shook her head. “It’s not you. It’s the guy who hurt and disappointed me all those years ago.” She closed her eyes and tightly gripped her wineglass. When she opened them again, she murmured, “Can we please sit down for this?”

I nodded. “Of course,” I responded, even though my heart raced and I had to swallow hard several times even to breathe.

We relocated to the sectional, which was directly across from the fireplace. “This is a terrible idea.” She shook her head. “Wine, a roaring fire, and you.”

“Tell me about what happened,” I urged. This felt more important to me than any discussion we’d had previously, maybe more than any we’d ever have in the future.

“I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. The details don’t matter. That’s . . . my shame. That was the catalyst for everything that followed.” She shook her head as she sank into the corner of the couch.

“What followed?” I sat facing her on the cushion. Waiting had never been my strong suit, but if I wanted the truth instead of the rumors that had been flying around all those years ago, I needed to be patient and give her a chance to tell her story, her way.

“My brother killed himself in our garage and blamed me.” Sophie rubbed her hands together and curled up in a ball against the sofa.

“What makes you think he blamed you?” I frowned, but honestly, my own brother blamed me for everything all the time. I don’t think he was ever happier than when I joined the military and left him to manipulate our parents unchecked.

“The note. Katie said there were lots of notes. And a bow.” She shuddered.

“Did you see them? Did you read them yourself?” I hated myself for thinking ill of her friend, but I’d learned to trust no one too.

She glanced up. “No, but Katie read one to me. The one for me, I guess.” Sophie stared off, lost in the flames. “Life completely changed after that. In an effort to protect me from . . . the bullying, which was going on at school, and get away from the house, which now held such horrible memories, they sold practically everything, and we moved to the middle of nowhere in Mint Hill.” She rubbed her hands down her arms, like the cold was killing her.

“Come here. I’ll keep you warm,” I offered as I scooped her onto my lap. Then I reached behind us and grabbed the throw I’d seen. We were soon wrapped up together, and her heart, which had been racing moments before, eventually slowed to a normal rate.

Once calm again, she began to quietly share. “I was homeschooled. I saw Katie on the weekends. That’s how we built our little video empire before she went off to college and I started Simply Sophie on my own. That . . . was when all the fear really started.” She burrowed under my chin. “My family had lost faith in therapy and meds, given their ineffectiveness on my brother. I spent a lot of time by myself in the quiet and the dark, since in the early days of off-the-grid life, we didn’t have a generator or solar power. Alone and unchecked, my phobias grew out of control.” She sniffled quietly. “The spiders were first, since they were everywhere. Then snakes, because I’d inevitably find them all over too. This caused more fear of the dark, and I quickly discovered it was possible to fear both being alone and being around people.” She released a hollow laugh.

“I understand,” I whispered in an effort to offer some comfort.

“Yeah, well, the thing about phobias is, once you leave one to fester, sometimes you discover you seem to have dozens of them. And the coping mechanisms are unparalleled. I almost never sleep in a bed. It’s always the couch or a lounge chair with at least low lights on because . . . clinophobia. To me, there was always some monster under the bed. I stopped feeling safe, ever. I feared death and pretty much anything that might lead to my demise, like heights, and falling asleep, because what if I didn’t wake up? Really, I probably have panophobia. I always expect something bad will happen.”

“The prepping.” I sighed. “Oh, Soph. How did your parents let this go on?”

“They didn’t know,” she whimpered. “How could they? They were so lost in their own grief, they interpreted my silence, my crying in the night, and framed it against what was happening with them. They gave me time and space since they worried about smothering me. They . . . meant well.”

“Where are they now? Do you talk to them?” Even though I anticipated the worst answer, I had to ask.

“No. They try, but I can’t. Too much pain. Naturally, I’m scared of that, but it’s still not my biggest fear of all.” She chuckled and sat up as she swiped at her eyes with the cuffs of her sleeves.

“Which fear is that?” I stared at her sadly while I waited for her response.

Sophie’s shoulders drooped, and when her eyes met mine, she didn’t as much as blink. “Philophobia,” she murmured.

“Philophobia?” I frowned as I tried to figure out what it meant.

With a nod, she whispered, “Fear of love.”