NINETEEN

 

S P R I N G   B R E A K,  L A S T   Y E A R

 

IN CAM’S ARMS, magically, my nightmares can't touch me. Even after yesterday. But I wake before the sun in a jolt of panic. Last night, I was so desperate for the comfort only Cam can offer, that I didn't quite think everything through. I can't let him see me like this. In the light of day it will take no more than a glance for him to see everything Robin did to me.

Even with the worst of it - my back, my breast, the bandage on my hip - covered by his tee and boxers, the bruising and bite marks on my neck are visible. As is the swelling and black and blue of my wrists.

I still feel sore between my legs, but it's gotten much better over night. I've found that this has become a resilient part of me, mercifully almost always healing before Robin could hurt me again.

I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Cam. I tiptoe out of his room and carefully close his door, then pad down the stairs and out the back door.

Once inside my own house, I quickly dig out my black cotton turtleneck, grateful that it will cover both my neck and wrists. I check my cut and am relieved the bleeding has stopped. I leave on the butterfly bandages and replace the soiled gauze before I pull on loose black sweatpants. It's seventy five degrees outside and climbing, and my outfit makes no sense for the season - for any season here in Linton, really - but I've no other choice.

I don't know what to do next. I just want Cam, or my mom, but she's out of town, and Cam's asleep. I realize I left my phone in Cam's bed and try to remember if I powered it off or not.  

I curl up in a rocking chair on my back porch, hug my knees to my chest, and weep while I watch the sun rise.

I don't notice Cam approach, but he doesn't startle me either. I know he'll chalk up my tears to my breakup. Silently, he sits in the chair beside me and hands me a mug of Earl Grey tea. I take a welcome sip. He's sweetened it with honey just how I like it. Of course he did.

"You look like you're going to a funeral," he gestures to my clothing. "A casual one, anyway."

I crack a smile and shrug. He's still in his pajama bottoms, though he's pulled on a tee shirt. He notices me looking and nods back toward his house. "I gotta shower and get dressed. Then we can go down to the lake and talk."

I nod. "I'll come with you." I climb out of the chair. I've had enough alone time. Cam slings an arm around my shoulders and I lay my head on his.

"You gonna try and watch me change again?" he teases. I smack him on the chest and he laughs.

"Shut up," I mutter, but I can't hide my mirth. In truth, I wouldn't mind watching him change.

****

 

I sit on Cam's bedroom floor and digest the short story he's allowed me to read. He always tells me the pages I'm allowed to see, and is very clear that I'm not to look at any other pages. It's been the same system since he started writing his stories down when we were about twelve. I've never broken his trust, and I'm sure he's never doubted me.

Cam dresses in the bathroom and emerges in his trademark jeans and white tee shirt, his hair still damp, and I stand up on my tip toes to style it. He laughs. I haven't missed an opportunity to do this since he first asked me to before our first school dance in the sixth grade. The truth is his hair needs no styling at all. It flows in perfectly thick, chocolate wavy locks all on its own. I think I just like to run my fingers through it, and Cam just likes to indulge me.

"Am I presentable?" he chuckles. God, it's like his laugh has healing properties for me. If I just spend enough time today listening to him laugh, I think all of my injuries just might disappear.

"You'll do, handsome," I smile and pat his cheek playfully.

****

 

We sit in our spot by the lake, under the weeping willow, and I listen with my eyes closed as Cam reads aloud another story he's deemed me worthy enough to hear. Or that he's deemed worthy enough to share with me.

Since we were kids he's had this recurring protagonist, a girl I've always suspected is at least loosely based on me, though Cam has always teasingly denied it. I know he thinks the similarities of character are glaringly obvious, but in truth, she's nothing like me. She's tough, strong... unbreakable. Everything I'm not.

The wind blows stronger than usual and I wonder if that storm is going to wait until tomorrow after all. But it's still pretty warm, and I'm not exactly comfortable in my black turtleneck.

Two hours have gone by and Cam has yet to ask me about Robin, but his inquisitive glances have increased in frequency, and I know it's coming.

Finally, he closes his journal. He scoots closer to where I sit, hugging my knees to my chest. I can't lay on my front like usual, my gash hurts too much. I can't lean back against the tree as Cam was, my back hurts too much. I can't even lean back on my hands because my damned wrists hurt too much.

Cam's eyes meet mine. "You got somethin' on under that?" he asks, throwing a nod at my turtleneck.

"No, why?"

He grins. "Because you're sweatin', Rory girl,"

I smack him in the arm. "Hey! I am not." I totally am. "And anyway, girls don't sweat, we glisten," I correct him.

"I see. Well, in that case, you're glistenin' like a pig," he smirks. I swat at his arm again and we both laugh. But after another minute he gets to the point. "You gonna tell me about Forbes?" he asks softly.

I sigh. "It just wasn't workin' out. We broke up. It's over."

Cam's gaze doesn't waver. "Now I have a hard time believin' he broke things off with you, Rory girl." 

I start playing with a tall blade of grass I ripped from the ground. "No. Not exactly. I guess I broke up with him," I concede. I rip out two more and begin weaving them together with the first.

"You think it's gonna stick?"

I nod. "Yeah, Cam. I'm done." I lock my eyes with his so he knows I mean it.

Now he nods. "Your daddy know yet?"

I shake my head.

Cam lets out a long, low whistle. "He ain't gonna be happy."

I busy myself weaving the braided grass into a second and third braid. "Nope. I doubt he'll ever speak to me again," I mutter numbly. He probably won't ever even look at me again. My eyes sting as I acknowledge to myself that any relationship I had left with my father is over. He will never forgive me, of that I have no doubt.

"Like I said, he ain't gonna be happy, but he'll get over it, Rory girl. He'll understand," Cam counters.

I shake my head. "He won't. Mayor Forbes told him that Robin's been talkin' about proposin'. Gettin' married. Daddy told me not to fuck it up. Even though... no matter what, I mean," I catch myself. "He won't get over my throwin' away the chance at makin' him father-in-law to a pro quarterback. Not a chance."

Cam takes the braided grass from my hand in an effort to get me to make eye contact with him. "Even though what, Ror?"

Of course he caught that. I look back down and yank another blade of grass from the ground. "Even though I told him it wasn't what I wanted," I say quietly. It isn't exactly a lie, which is why I'm able to say it to Cam. But I can't bring myself to look him in the eye as I do.

"Forbes ain't as stupid as I thought," he murmurs under his breath.

"What do you mean?"

Cam shrugs. "I mean about wantin' to marry you... Did he... did he talk to you about it?"

I nod. "Not about proposin'. Just like in general, I guess."

Cam takes a deep breath. "Were you, uh, considerin' it?" His voice has grown quiet and tentative. Not like Cam at all.

I shake my head. No. I was never really considering it. "Not really. Like, in the beginning I guess it sounded okay in the abstract. When it was like 'I wanna marry you someday'. Someday just never seemed real, you know? I think I was mostly just flattered. But as soon as it became a potential reality... No. I was never considerin' it."

Cam breathes a sigh of relief. He takes my hand and places it in his lap. I'm careful to grip the end of my sleeve to keep it from riding up and revealing my bruised wrist. He wraps the braided grass around my cotton clad wrist and begins to weave the ends together.

"I ain't sure I coulda handled that, Ror. You marryin' Forbes, I mean. Now... someday... ever."

His admission drowns me in guilt. I know how unfair my relationship has been to my friendship with Cam. How much has changed this year because of it. And though I tried to convince myself that much of the change was normal - the way things were supposed to be - I realize how willingly foolish I've been. Yes, of course I would eventually have dated, met someone, spent less time with Cam. But I've missed him so bad it hurt. And how is that normal? Not to be able to hug my best friend? To have to sneak in time with him. How could I ever consider a forever of that? Even for someone I really did love.

"Me neither," I whisper honestly. Cam pats my wrist where he's secured my grass-made bracelet. I hold in my wince.

"There you go."

I laugh. "Thanks, Cam."

A strong gust of wind sends my hair flying in all directions and a few locks settle right in my face. I laugh again as Cam tucks it behind my ear. We both look up in time to see ominous charcoal clouds roll in.

"Not sure that storm's gonna wait 'til tomorrow," Cam murmurs. "Let's get goin'." He stands, long limbs unfolding gracefully, and holds out his hand to help me up.  

Once back in his truck I take his phone to check the local news website about the storm, since I haven't seen my own phone since last night, and see several missed calls and texts from Cam's mom. He instructs me to read them and we learn that that the storm system had sped up and is expected to hit the area tonight instead of tomorrow. Michelle is planning on staying at the hospital through Sunday to help treat storm related injuries.

It's already raining hard as we pull into Cam's driveway. It's only late afternoon, but the sky has darkened considerably. It doesn't seem like we'll be heading out again today. I know I need to find my phone and check it, and I'm grateful that Robin will be stuck in Gainesville and my parents at my grandmother's.

"Hope you didn't have plans tonight," I tease as we race indoors.

"Already canceled 'em anyway," he murmurs nonchalantly.

"Oh yeah? Missy or Laura?" I tease, inwardly grimacing at the pang of jealousy twisting my stomach.

"Lacey, actually," he replies absentmindedly while he searches through kitchen drawers.

Oh.

Cam pulls a couple of flashlights and some candles out of a drawer. I doubt we'll need them, but better safe than sorry I suppose.

"You could still go, uh, see her," I murmur reluctantly, feeling guilty for ruining his plans. "I mean, I could just stay here and watch a movie. Or I could go to my house," I offer.

Cam stops what he's doing and walks back over to where I'm standing in the breakfast nook looking out the window. He tugs my arm to get me to face him, but I flinch, and without even thinking I snatch it back. He narrows his eyes at me, but doesn't call me out on my strange behavior. I was never jumpy about being touched, especially not by Cam. I wonder idly if Robin has messed me up for good.

"Like I said, I cancelled this morning... You need me, Ror," he says, softly cupping my jaw and stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"I do," I admit, turning into Cam's touch. My skin tingles from the contact and I swallow nervously. Cam has never made me nervous, but I just feel so aware of him right now, in a way I've never felt with Robin.

I inhale, careful to be more subtle than last night when he accused me of sniffing him. His scent both calms and exhilarates me. My eyes haven't left his, and I nearly gasp when his gaze drops to my lips. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, and Cam inhales sharply. If I didn't know better, I would think he wanted to kiss me.

But I do know better.

Cam suddenly steps back and heads into his kitchen. He pulls out some takeout menus and I turn back to look out the window.

No, Cam doesn't want to kiss me. He's my best friend, I know that. But for the first time, I realize, I wanted him to.

"I should go pick up some dinner before it gets too bad out there. You want anything in particular or you just gonna look through these menus for thirty minutes, get overwhelmed that there are too many choices, and make me pick?" he asks.

"Ha.ha." My voice drips with sarcasm, but he's right. That is exactly what I would have done. I smile to myself. "You're not goin' out in this anyway. I'll make us something to eat, you pick a movie."

"You gonna cook for me?" he asks excitedly.  

I nod. It's rare that I cook, but when I do, Cam acts like it's Christmas come early. I only even know how to cook at all because my Grandma Mimi would teach me different recipes whenever we used to visit her up in New York before she passed.

"Damn, I love storms!" Cam exclaims, and his joy is like a drug to me. The shadows fade more and more with each of his crooked smiles.

After looking through the contents of his freezer and fridge I go with simplicity. I defrost some chicken cutlets in the microwave and put Cam to work peeling potatoes so I can boil and mash them. I batter and bread the chicken and start frying, and have Cam wash the vegetables for a salad.

Once the chicken is done I add salt, butter, and milk to the potatoes, dress the salad, and we sit and eat on the coffee table in the living room like we always have.

After dinner I load the dishwasher while Cam heads to his room to choose something from his DVD collection. I realize I need to find my phone, I'm sure my mom is looking to check on me, even though she probably thinks I'm in Gainesville with Robin.

Cam is still looking through his movies when I enter his room. He shakes his head when I ask if he's seen my phone, and I find it buried in his comforter, turned off.

When I power it on, I'm not surprised by the number of texts and missed calls. I quickly reply to my mom that I'm fine before I start scrolling through the few texts from Lacey and the hundred or so from Robin.

Lacey wants to talk. She writes that she thinks I'm making a huge mistake. I wonder how much Robin has told her.

Robin's texts range from desperate pleas for forgiveness and professions of love, to vicious threats. Some are unfathomably cruel, and a tear slides down my cheek before I even realize my eyes have welled with tears. He writes that I have "daddy issues", that I have problems accepting his love because my own father doesn't care about me, and that I'm stupid to think I can live without him. He says that my own father loves him more than he does me. And threatens to call him. And what could I even say to that if I ever did respond? We both know it's the truth.

Robin goes on to say that I need to just trust him to know what's right for us. That what happened yesterday was "maybe a little extreme", but that he was making a point. He doesn't say what that point was exactly, but I already know. He writes that I will always belong to him.

Hell if that's true. I belong to no one but myself. I knew Robin wouldn't let me go without a fight. But I'm finally ready to fight.

I nearly hyperventilate when I read the text that says the athletics department has cancelled tonight's dinner due to the storm and he's driving back early. I look at the time stamp and realize he'll be in town any minute, but his last text says he's going home to look after his mom and Lacey through the storm since his father is in New York. He wants to talk tomorrow night after the storm blows over. He seems sure that we can work out our issues. That we'll be back together by Monday.  

Anyone reading through his texts would swear they were sent by two entirely different people. Sometimes I wonder if he does have multiple personalities. I don't bother responding that he's wrong, that it's really over, because right now I'm just relieved that he seems to have calmed down, even if his relief is misplaced. Because there is no way in hell I'm getting back together with Robin.

I know he can try. He could hurt me, try to force himself on me again - though just the thought has me nearly hyperventilating again. He could even try to kill me. He almost did last night.

But I will never be his girlfriend again. I will never "go back for more", as my father put it. I'd rather be dead. I will fight, kicking and screaming, doing everything in my admittedly limited power to make sure Robin Forbes never has me where he wants me ever again.

Cam's thumb brushes my tears away. I didn't even notice him approach me. He sits beside me on his bed and I sniffle.

"Jesus, Ror, you don't know what it does to me to see you cry," he murmurs despondently. I toss my phone back down on the bed. I don't want Cam to catch Robin's texts - they're too telling. "You havin' second thoughts?" Cam asks, and I frown at him in confusion. "'Bout endin' it with Forbes, I mean."

I shake my head. "No. Honestly, Cam, I'd be real happy never to see him again," I whisper emphatically. Cam looks back at me, bemused. I know I don't make sense. Cam thinks I just broke up with Robin because I didn't see a future together, and that just doesn't account for the animosity in my voice, I know.

"Damn it, Ror, what's goin' on with you? I mean, you never laugh anymore. Barely even smile. Unless you catch me checkin' on you and then you throw on that fake clown grin that wouldn't fool a stranger let alone your best friend. You think I ain't noticed? I tried to back off 'cause I thought it was what you wanted. I thought he was what you wanted, but I'm so damn worried about you, Rory girl." Cam shoves his fingers through his hair, his brow etched deeply with the concern he's just described. I look down at my fingernails, as if I suddenly find them fascinating.

I've already decided I need to tell Cam the truth. I need to get it out, and even if I haven't outright lied to him, keeping this enormous thing that's happened to me from my best friend - it just feels immensely dishonest, and I don't want secrets between us. He'd figure it out anyway. Maybe not the details, but enough. He already knows something's not right. But I need to figure out a plan first. I need him not to go after Robin, and I don't see how I can tell him what Robin did, and have Cam be calm and rational about it. He's too damn protective of me.

"You're right, Cam. I haven't been happy. I've told you that." I hope he allows me leave it at that, at least for now.

And with his dramatic exhale, I appear to be in luck. But if he's dissatisfied by my vague response, I am more so. Now that Robin and me are really over, I feel so dirty, so disgusting, even if rationally I understand it was Robin's fault and not mine. At least the first time. But like my daddy said, I kept going back for more, and now... I can't take it back. I hate that a part of me will always belong to Robin - that I can never undo it. I hate that he's been inside of me. That he's the only person who ever has.

Cam gently takes my hand, effectively stealing my gaze from my nails. "You're really okay, Ror?" He stares at me intently, and I find myself captivated by eyes that hold a lifetime of familiarity. He awaits my response, his face so close that even the warmth of his breath brings me comfort. His brown eyes have a ring honey around the outside of his irises. And though I've always known this, looked into these eyes countless times, somehow, right now, I find them utterly mesmerizing. His once boyish good looks are decidedly all man now, the lines of his face rougher - hard and rugged as if carved from granite. Still, his features are drawn with perfect symmetry, except for that roguish grin of his - conspicuously absent at the moment - that has always had girls' insides spinning into triple axels as if trying to perform their way into his heart. I blame them no more now than I ever have before. Cam is everything.

I'm surprised to realize my tears have dried. I'm also surprised to find my tongue wetting my bottom lip purely without volition. "I am okay now, Cam. Really." It's practically a whisper, but it's true - I am. Right now, for the first time in way too long, I am okay. Now that I'm doing what I can to ensure Robin is out of my life. Now that I'm sitting here, in a place that feels like home, with my best friend in the world, who right now, I really wish would kiss me.

Holy shit.

I can't believe I just thought that.

I can't believe I'm still thinking it. Suddenly I'm incredibly aware of the taut pull of Cam's tee shirt, the impressive outline of the his broad shoulders, his powerful upper arms, even his lean, strong, chest. Like I said, all man.

As we sit together at the foot of the bed, I feel every inch of our closeness in a way I never have before. We face each other, our knees touching, my head nearly resting on his shoulder. I am practically breathing his breath. I bite my lip to keep it from reaching for his. We've sat close like this a thousand times. We've cuddled and watched movies, hugged more times that I could possibly count, held each other in consolation when one of us was upset, hell, I've even slept in his arms. But right now, a new energy surrounds us, a pull, and it's electric.

Painfully slowly, Cam leans down, but he doesn't have far to go, and his lips brush mine with impossible tenderness. He nuzzles me, then returns to my mouth to press his lips to mine more surely. He pulls my top lip gently between his and I gasp. It's more than a kiss - his lips caress mine with such reverence and affection I can feel it in my bones.

I think I moan.

Cam's mouth slants over mine, slipping between my lips, guiding them open. I comply eagerly and his kiss grows desperate. But not in the way Robin's kiss was desperate. Cam seems desperate to convey something - some emotion. It's communicative. It's giving.  

Robin was just desperate to force me to his will. He took; he didn't give. But everything about this experience feels different from kissing Robin. When things with Robin were good, kissing him was... nice. Sweet, I guess, for the most part. But it mostly just felt like it was what we were supposed to be doing. I liked it, but I didn't need it.

But right now with Cam, I feel like I'm the one who's desperate. Desperate to feel his mouth on mine, to inhale his breath. Desperate for this connection, to figure out what it is I'm feeling. Desperate for... more, just more. More Cam.

He pulls away abruptly, and immediately averts his gaze. I'm practically gasping, not having made breathing my first priority for the last few minutes. Cam rakes his hand through his hair. He's freaking out, and vaguely I wonder if I've just done something irrevocable to our friendship. But I can't even focus on his reaction right now, I'm still reeling from my own.

God, that felt amazing. I've never experienced this before. Desire. I feel alive, and needy - emotionally and physically. My lower belly aches with untold heat, and I want to be touched by Cam in a way I never felt with Robin. Ever.

"I'm so sorry, Ror. I... fuck. I get you're feelin' down, but I can't be your rebound. We're too important, you and me." He gestures between the two of us, but I'm only half listening. I'm still battling with my own thoughts. All of Robin's accusations about Cam wanting me, and my steadfast denial...

"My God," I murmur to myself, "Robin had it backwards." Vaguely I'm aware I'm talking out loud, but I'm still too thrown from that kiss to do anything but blurt. I always do this when I'm freaking out about something - ramble without a filter - and I've done it to Cam a thousand times. But I never had anything to hide from Cam, it was never about him. I stare down at my lap, my mind racing in every direction.

"Ror-"

"He always said that you want me, but, Jesus, it's the other way around!" Maybe Robin wasn't just paranoid after all. Maybe there was something to his charges. Only Cam's not the guilty party, I am.

"Rory- Wait... what are you saying?" Cam asks carefully.

I rally and pull myself the hell together. I have to fix this. This is Cam. "I'm sorry, Cam. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that-"

"You shouldn't have done that?" His eyes are wide with astonishment and he barks out a short laugh. "You didn't do that, Rory girl. I did that. And what do you mean it's the other way around? I take advantage of you when you're vulnerable, the day after you break up with your boyfriend, and you still believe I don't want you?" he shakes his head and chokes back another laugh, his eyes settling meaningfully on mine.

I'm stunned, but he's now staring at me in a way that makes it impossible to process words. The way he's looking at me has the room feeling about ten degrees warmer. I feel desperate again. I want him. It's no longer deniable. His eyes devour me. His look - it's hungry, but not predatory. Robin never looked at me like this. He had his own look, sure, but it never made me so perfectly desirable, at least not without the fear.

"How many times do I have to tell you how beautiful you are? How any man would be lucky to have you? How you're the kinda girl to marry? Jesus, Ror, I even told you I couldn't give you a little kiss without gettin' hard." It's like he can't believe I could actually doubt he wants me.

My eyes involuntarily dart to his lap and confirm his conspicuous arousal. His gaze doesn't waver from my eyes, though he couldn't have missed my checking him out. Somehow, I feel no embarrassment.

And he's right, too. He has made it clear he finds me attractive, but for some reason I always heard him say I was attractive, not that he was attracted to me, and for some reason, it makes a monumental difference. But, in retrospect, I realize he has been pretty up front about it.

I try and force myself to sober. He's a seventeen year old boy who thinks I'm "hot". His word. He's used it to describe me many times in recent years. So of course he'd be physically attracted to me.

"Yeah, I get it. You think I'm pretty. You find me attractive. You've said." I blow it off because it isn't enough right now. Though I do love hearing it from him. That he thinks I'm pretty, attractive. I realize I've always loved hearing it from him. I've always gone to him for reassurance, and he's always given it to me, even right before my first date with Robin - a guy he didn't trust. But the fact is, I've never sought it out from anyone else. Not even Robin, not even before things got bad. I understand now that it wasn't the reassurance I needed, it was hearing these things from Cam's lips. Even when Robin said the same pretty things Cam says, it never satisfied me the same way.

Why it took me until now to realize, I can't imagine. But it isn't enough. My heart is so full it might explode, my stomach tumbling like an olympic gymnast.

I have freaking feelings for my best friend, and my God, I want him. And although hearing he wants me too is a heady thing, Cam's right. He can't be a rebound, he's too important. And being intimate with him without having my feelings returned would break my heart in a way that would be far more painful than any hurt Robin Forbes has ever caused me.

"Yep. I do. I think you're real pretty, Ror, I find you real attractive," Cam drawls, his voice strangely gruff. He takes my chin between his fingers and steals my gaze. His eyes suddenly fill with emotion in a way that is extraordinarily rare for him, and my heart soars into outer space. "And I've also loved you since I was three years old, and have been in love with you at least since I was twelve."

My jaw goes slack and my heart stops beating.

Cam's in love with me? My chest surges with a feeling of elation I've never before experienced. Of utter euphoria.

If there's anything left to say, I don't give it a chance to be said. I lean in and cover the relatively small space between us. I press my hand to his chest, and my lips softly to the corner of his mouth. He watches me warily, his breathing notably shallow. But I don't pull back far, or for long. I close my lips over his, and after no more than one more second, Cam takes over. He sucks on my lower lip then coaxes my mouth open and slips in his tongue.

He groans, and like his laughter, the sound does something magical to me. But this sound doesn't relax me like his laugh does. No, this sound excites me.

I deepen the kiss, wanting to taste his mouth completely, to explore this part of this man that is unknown. There's so little about my best friend that is mysterious to me, but there are a few major things, things I'm now desperate to discover. And the sweet taste of his mouth is one of them.

My hands slide up his firm chest, my thumbs tracing the lines of its muscles before slipping around his neck to grasp the thick locks at his nape.

His arms reciprocate, completing our embrace by sliding around to my back and pulling me even closer, our mouths working all the while. I do him one better, I move my right leg over his lap and straddle him. I moan when I feel his erection through his jeans. When I'd feel Robin's my stomach would drop in fear just knowing he was close to losing control. But with Cam, a part of me wants him to lose control. I know without even the vaguest doubt he would never, ever hurt me. He'd die first, and my faith in him is infinitely freeing.

Our tongues dance wildly, our lips melting together like they've always known they were meant to be kissing, and they've just been waiting for Cam and me to catch up.

Now it's me who's losing control.

With one last tug of his hair, my hands roam back down his chest, still fascinated by its stunning masculine design, and around to his broad back, which provides me with a whole new map of lines to explore. I am Columbus stumbling upon The New World, discovering a treasure trove of bounty without even knowing it's what I've been searching for all along. While I'd been distracted looking for a world that could never offer me a future. Robin was never my future, just a misguided, dangerous excursion that nearly left me foundered and drowned. I only ever had one true destination. One future. Because Cam is also my past - he's my everything - and I'm suddenly determined to claim him as my present for the very first time. I rock my body against him in rhythm with our mouths completely involuntarily. The rapid rise and fall of his chest dances heavily with my own, and I wonder if he's as overwhelmed as I am - if he's chasing the same thrill.

Clutching his back, I pull at his weight. He responds instantly, rolling me onto my back, our bodies lined up in a way that makes it impossible to doubt the rightness of it. My legs wrap around his waist as if the position couldn't be more natural for us. Our mouths never disconnect, and I moan again at the friction as our hips rock gently together.

"My sweet Rory," Cam breathes reverently against my mouth.

Yes. His. I've always been his, I realize.

Cam groans again and though the same friction making me crazy with want also aggravates my cut, I never want to stop. But the sharp sting that leads from my hip down to the top of my thigh reminds me of what happened just yesterday. What's happened again and again, and the shame is almost debilitating. I'm not the girl Cam thinks I am. I may be his, but I'm not anyone's Sweet Rory - not anymore.

Cam's mouth leaves mine suddenly, and I mourn the loss. He's panting, his features strained with self-control as he reaches around with both hands and wrenches my ankles from their locked position at the small of his back. He rolls off of me until he rests on his elbow beside me.

I try in vain to catch my breath, but I still want more.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Ror," Cam whispers.

It surprises me. What in the world is he apologizing for? "Don't be. I... I want you, Cam."  

He closes his eyes, as if savoring my words, smiling an entirely unfamiliar smile. A smile of contentment. He touches his nose to mine, nuzzling me with open adoration. "God, you're beautiful. You have no idea how bad I want you, Rory girl. I've wanted you for as long as I can even remember. But right now, we should talk. And kiss," he amends, brushing his lips briefly to mine.  

I frown, puzzled as to why, if he wants me like he says, he just wants to talk. And kiss.

"I ain't gonna move fast - not with you. I've waited my whole life, Ror, I can wait a while longer. As bad as I want you right now, not gonna do that the same night we finally kissed for the first time."

I flood with shame. Cam still thinks I'm his sweet little Rory girl. But that's not me anymore, Robin made damn sure of that. And so did I, when I kept going back for more. I evade his gaze. I can't bear to see Cam staring at me like I'm some priceless jewel when really I'm no different than the rest of the sluts he hooks up with.

"I'm not as innocent as you think, Cam," I breathe. It's almost a full minute before I risk a peek over at him, his narrowed eyes betraying his irritation, and I cast my gaze back to the ceiling.

"Hey." He tries to get my attention.

I continue to stare blindly upward, my focus on keeping my eyes dry. It doesn't work. I hate Robin Forbes. In this moment I hate him more than I've ever hated him - ever hated anyone - for stealing this part of me. My tears are angry ones.

"Hey," Cam says again, stroking my face with a tenderness I don't deserve. He turns it toward him until our eyes lock. He lets out a deep exhale. "You think because you gave it up to Forbes you're some kinda ruined woman or somethin'?" he asks softly. He's trying to absolve me of sleeping with Robin, and suddenly the levy breaks.

"I didn't! I didn't give it to him, Cam! He just took it!" I sound like a madwoman, I know. I sit up and bury my face in my knees, wrapping my arms around the top of my head. I am hysterical. I don't know if it's my desperation for Cam to know I didn't betray him - though I know it makes no sense since Robin's the one who was my boyfriend - but it's the way it feels. "I said no! I begged him to stop!" My words are a shaky sob, and I don't even know if Cam can understand them, I just know I need to get them out before they suffocate me.

I cry into my knees, trembling violently. My tears overflow, drenching my sweatpants, my shoulders heaving with my sobs.

"Rory." Cam's voice is frighteningly low and painstakingly calm, but my very unladylike sobs continue with no sign of slowing. "Rory, I need you to look at me."

I shake my head, still hidden by my protective position. He reaches for me, but as soon as I feel his touch, I flinch. I don't know why I flinch. I know Cam isn't Robin. I know he could never hurt me, but I do - I flinch, and Cam retracts his hand immediately.

I become aware of audible breathing and realize Cam isn't as calm as I thought. "Please, Rory," he begs, and it's a desperate plea I can't deny.

I turn my head just enough to meet his gaze, forcibly quelling my sobs into defeated weeping.

"You sayin' he forced himself on you?" Cam asks carefully.

I don't say anything. I don't need to answer him with words. The despair on my face, I'm sure, is all the answer he needs.

Cam closes his eyes and his hands fist at his sides. He inhales a calculated breath and when he opens his eyes, they are utterly distraught. "Yesterday?" he asks.

I nod.

He swallows thickly. "He do this before?"

"Yeah," I breathe.

"When?"

I shrug. "Yesterday. A couple days ago. Last Saturday... Whenever I stayed over there, you know, for the weekend-"

"Damn it!" Cam roars. He stands from the bed and starts pacing his bedroom, back and forth. It pulls me from my sorrowful ball and I scoot to the edge of the bed. I watch him until he pauses a few feet in front of me. "The first time?" he demands.

"The night he signed with UFL. After Marcus's party." 

Cam shoves his fingers through his hair and resumes his aggravated pacing. "Months! This has been goin' on for months!" he bellows furiously.

I look down. Yes. It has been going on for months. Robin hurt me again and again and I kept going back for more. My tears fall silently as I wait for Cam's judgment. For him to ask why I stayed with Robin, why I kept asking for it.

"Oh, God, Ror!" He's desperate, his voice laced with guilt, and I can't understand why. "I'm sorry. So sorry, fuck!"

I jump up. He's sorry? What the fuck for? "No, Cam. It's my fault - why are you sorry?"

He stops in front of me, shocked. What did I say to shock him? "Don't you ever fucking say that!" he barks rabidly, and I flinch again. In fact, I practically cower.

Cam and I have shouted at each other plenty. Like all best friends who have known each other a lifetime, we've had our share of arguments. But I've always been one to give as well as I get. A loud voice never bothered me, but now...

Cam registers my reaction - however involuntary - at his raised voice, and this, too, he knows enough to attribute to Robin. It devastates and infuriates him at once - I can see it in his eyes. He sucks in deep breath. "No, Ror, I'm sorry. I won't yell. But, God... don't you ever say that again, okay? This is not your fault. This is his fault. This is my fault. But this ain't your fault. No fucking way, okay?"

I shake my head. "How- how can this possibly be your fault?"

"Because, Rory! Because, I should've protected you! Fuck. I knew somethin' was up with you. Somethin' was wrong. But I never thought... fuck!" He rakes his hand harshly through his hair again.

"No, Cam! You can't just fix everything for me! This ain't a damn bee sting. I'm not your responsibility. I don't know why I didn't break it off after he did it the first time. I don't know what's wrong with me. But I do know none of this is your damn fault," I mutter pitifully.

Cam brushes away my tears with his thumb, then slowly brings his lips to each of my cheeks, one at a time, and kisses their remnants away. "You are my responsibility," he whispers. "You've always been my responsibility. We've always taken care of each other, you and me." He blows out a deep exhale. "I need you to tell me everything, Ror, okay?"

I shake my head. He doesn't need details; they will only upset him more.

"Please," he implores.

"Cam, it won't change anything."

"Please, Ror. I need to know. You know I do. And you need to tell someone. Please. Rory girl," he pleads in earnest. I can't remember a single instance in our fourteen year friendship I denied him something he truly needed from me. The magnitude of Cam's torment is such that I worry he imagines mine was even worse than it was. That's the curse of a soul as creative as his. And how can I deny him the truth when I'm the cause of his pain?

I sit back down on the edge of the bed, lock my gaze on my fidgeting fingers, and I do it - I tell him.

"He'd been aggressive before. Touched me when I'd asked him to stop. I'd even smacked him once, but he got real mad. But he had never..." I pause to fight back tears. "That night, he was upset. He heard me tell you I love you. You know, when we were leavin' the party. He came upstairs after I'd gone to bed... said he shouldn't have to listen to me tell another man I love 'em. Said I was his." My eyes fall closed as I remember how fast things shifted from sweet and playful to violent and terrifying. How many times it happened since.

"He just, you know, held me down, and forced me... But then, after, he cuddled me. Like it was normal, you know, sex." My voice is soft and timid, and I wonder if Cam has ever heard me sound like this. I barely even recognize myself.

"I told him I wasn't ready, but he said I was just playin' hard to get. That I'd never feel ready all on my own, and that I needed to trust him. Said he'd waited six months and it was time. That's when he started talkin' about wantin' to marry me, and all kinds of sweet talk. I told him I didn't wanna do it again until I was ready, and he agreed...

"But when I stayed over there a couple weeks later... he did it again. The same damn thing. I tried to fight, but he liked it when I fought back, it... excited him, I think. I asked him why he did it again when he'd agreed he'd wait 'til I was ready. But he just said he meant he'd wait ‘til I wasn't sore anymore from the last time. Like he was doin' me some big favor." I sniffle back bitter tears. I can't imagine what Cam is thinking right now. He's quiet and pensive, absorbing the truth, and I don't allow myself to wonder what he must think of me. Because if I do, I won't be able to keep talking. "It hurt, Cam," I breathe. "Not just the first time. Every damn time."

Cam stands still as a statue, his entire body stiff with tension. His is the stance of a man consumed by fury, but when I meet his gaze, those familiar, beloved honey-brown eyes are weighed with such profound despair that I flinch at the sight of it. And damn if they don't glisten with tears. I haven't seen Cam cry since his father died when we were seven.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out before he closes it again. He sits beside me on the bed and hangs his head in self-condemnation. I have never before seen it on Cam, and it feels all wrong. "I'll never... I can't...". He doesn’t finish his whispered phrases, but then, Cam has never needed to say words aloud for me to hear them. And I hear my best friend loud and clear. He’ll never, he can’t… forgive himself.

I shake my head, hating that he's drowning in guilt when he has been my only salvation. The only light in the dark hell I've been trapped in for months. "No, Cam, you-"

"Yes, Rory, I!" He sucks in a ragged breath. "I should have known. I should have protected you. I should have been here for you!" He reaches over and grabs my wrists and begins to stroke them with his thumbs, but I'm not expecting the contact and I wince. Cam's eyes widen in shock and I watch in horror as he realizes I'm hurt.

Without further warning he yanks my sleeves up to reveal the deep rings of black and blue around my wrists.

His gaze darts from the offending bruises to my eyes and back again. I'm powerless as he connects the dots, deducing the real reason for my turtleneck.

His gaze never leaves mine as he slowly reaches up to the top of the fabric covering my neck, and carefully pulls it down to reveal the ominous purple shape of Robin's open palm around my neck. Cam sucks in a gasp, but says nothing else as he lets the cotton slip from his grasp. But his silence speaks volumes. His jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring as he grits his teeth.

His fingers move to the hem of my shirt, and he carefully lifts it, watching me for my consent, which I give him wordlessly, raising my arms to assist him. I sit topless but for my bra, in front of my best friend for the first time since I grew breasts, albeit modest ones, and there is nothing sexual about it. He surveys my skin, taking in every bruise, every scratch, every bite mark.

"Oh, Rory, no," he breathes. His eyes close, his thick lashes fanning his cheeks. I watch as he battles between grief and rage, my heart aching with regret.

"What the hell, Ror?" Cam whispers. "He's been beatin' you? Bitin' you? Fuckin' chokin' you?! What the hell?!"

I shake my head fervently. "No. I mean, yeah, he's pushed me around a little, but nothin' more than a bruise here and there or some pulled hair," I tell him. I don't want Cam to think Robin's been hitting me all the time. It wasn't like that. "He didn't beat on me. Not really. He was just real upset when I tried to break up with him yesterday, and he- well you know, he did it again. In the locker room at school. He was just more aggressive about it than usual."

Cam leans forward until our faces are almost touching. "You mean, more aggressive than rape?" he asks carefully.

I blink at him, hating how right he is.

He shakes his head incredulously. "Damn it Rory! 'Pushed you around a little'? That's abuse! That's fuckin' assault! Fuck!" He drops his face into his hands and catches his breath, and when he meets my gaze again, he's intently serious. "Forbes raped you in the locker room at school? Yesterday?"

I nod. Cam's the first one to use the R word besides my father, and my father was using it to condemn me. Somehow, giving it a name, calling it rape, makes it that much more real. With every word, Cam just keeps stripping away all of the gray I've been living in for so long, that I've been clinging to so desperately, and as he shines a spotlight on the black and white, I try not to drown in shame.

"I messed up, Cam," I murmur despondently. "I waited 'til right before we were supposed to leave for Gainesville to tell him I didn't wanna go. He came to pick me up at school after the basketball game, and I told him. I said I needed space, and I thought he took it okay. I was worried he'd be angry, but... he just seemed real sad."

Cam shakily lifts his hand, gently brushing his fingers over the preserved mold of Robin's teeth on the cleavage of my right breast. For the first time I can remember, I can't read his expression. "It doesn't look like he took it okay."

"No. He didn't. He followed me into the girls locker room. I didn't hear him comin'." I swallow anxiously as the events of the previous evening assault my memory. There's no way to sugar coat this. "He, uh... pushed me up against the wall. And, you know, like I said, he did it again. He was tryin' to make a point - that I couldn't end it. That I was his, that I didn't have a say."

"He coulda killed you, Ror." Cam's torment torments me in turn, and I'm rendered powerless all over again.

"He didn't."

Cam grazes his knuckles along my neck, his touch as tentative as his words. "He ever do that before? Put his hands on your throat?"

I shake my head adamantly. "Never. Like I said, he was makin' a point. I know it. He had his hand over my mouth at first, because, you know, I was screamin'. But it was covering my nose, too, and I couldn't breathe. I don't think he meant to cut off my air at first, but then when he realized..." I pause, my fingers involuntarily shooting up to my throat. "He, uh... he made me say I belonged to him, and then... then he choked me." I don't describe the maniacal look in Robin’s eyes as he watched the terror in mine with sickening satisfaction, or the fact that I'm not sure he even knew if he was going to let go or not.

I don't know why I'm explaining any of this to Cam. Lord knows I don't want to pour any more gasoline on his already all-consuming fury. But the truth is I'm still scared. Because Robin wasn't just trying to make a point. He made it quite effectively. He can take my life into his hands whenever he chooses. And I know I need to figure out some course of action, but I'm not sure what. Obviously breaking up with him didn't work, and I'm not sure how to stop him.

"You musta been so damn scared," Cam breathes.

If my tears ever fully stopped, they return now with a vengeance. "I couldn't breathe," I admit. Cam already knows that, of course. The mark on my neck isn't subtle. It's a dark, telling contusion that spans nearly the entire circumference of my throat. It speaks of malice - of intent. The thought reminds me how vulnerable I really am.

Rationally I know I should stop talking, stop detailing the horror of it all, but for some reason, unloading my pain to my best friend gives me a small slice of relief, and I'm desperate for it.

Cam leans in slowly and I don't move. I think he's going to kiss me again, but his lips aim lower, and he brushes them ever so gently over the skin of my neck, as if he can kiss it and make it better. And, even if only slightly, it does.

"God, it kills me how you talk about bein' pushed around, about screamin' for help, about bein' fuckin' raped so damn matter-of-factly. Like it's just a normal part of life." He shoves his fingers harshly through his hair. "Fuck, and it was for you, wasn't it? You know that ain't how it's supposed to be, right? It's not normal - what he did. That's not what havin' a boyfriend is supposed to be. You should never have to know that shit, Ror, not for a minute! Jesus, I'm so damn sorry. You'll never know how fuckin' much."

I hesitate. Logically I know he's right. That ours wasn't a normal relationship. But Robin was my first date, my first kiss, my only romantic encounters, and I wonder if I'll ever really know which parts were normal and which were just more symptoms of his abuse. "That shit", as Cam calls it, is all I know. But the bottom line is, none of it is Cam's fault.

I reach up to caress his devastated face, to offer him comfort. "I know you won't listen to me, Cam, but I mean it, this just wasn't your fault. Not even a moment of it was your fault." He doesn't listen. His features are still shrouded in guilt as he looks down in shame. "You even told me to say 'no' when he asked me out, remember?"

But he doesn't respond. He doesn't even hear me.

It's only then that I realize when I reached out to touch him, the movement caused my sweatpants to ride down just a bit. Cam is glaring at the small piece of medical tape peeking out from my waistband. This time he doesn't ask for permission, silently or otherwise. He gently grasps the cotton and slides it down, just an little. He swallows nervously when he sees the bandage, and realizes it just keeps going and going. When he reveals my panty line, he finally meets my gaze.

He says nothing as he gently slides his fingers over to my left hip, and pulls my waistband down so that my sweatpants still cover the most intimate part of me, but expose my whole hip.

It wasn't long ago that Cam was kissing me, and it was the best kiss of my life. It was the best anything of my life, and I wanted more. Now I sit topless in front of him, my pants pushed down, my hip bare, and I wonder if for him, our kiss is long forgotten. I can't believe he can see me that way anymore. Certainly not right now. And the irony is that his kiss was the only thing that made me forget all about Robin and what he did to me, the only thing that distracted me from my pain.

"Cam..." I whisper, but he doesn't respond.

He carefully peels back the tape and removes the bandage.

He swallows his gasp.

I look down and see that my cut is already starting to heal. Cam grazes his finger gently down my hip, alongside the cut, careful not to touch it.

"What the fuck..." His voice is a stunned whisper, his eyes glued to my hip as if he can change what he's seeing if he stares hard enough. I know he's trying to temper back any major reaction, but the clench of his jaw, and the wetness in his eyes give him away.

A full minute passes before he meets my gaze again. I don't speak. I wait. I don't know what's left to say.

"He use a knife on you, Rory?" Cam asks hoarsely.

"No."

"God, Rory!" He jumps up and starts pacing again. I hurriedly grab the gauze and replace it on top of my injury, knowing as long as it's visible, Cam will never let it go.

My heart stops when he slams his fist into the wall at full force, obliterating the sheetrock in its way.

"Cam!" I shoot up off the bed, but before I can even reach him he throws two more punches until there is a gaping hole in his bedroom wall.

I grab his bicep to stop him and he turns to me, enraged. I jump back. I've seen Cam mad, but never like this.

He's beside himself that he's frightened me, but I'm not afraid of him, I'm afraid for him. His knuckles have already begun to swell.

He thrusts his fingers into his hair and pulls. He's jumping out of his own skin, at a loss for what to do with his fury, unable to unleash it in front of me because of my pitiful reactions.

He turns away, sucking in several deep breaths before staggering over to the corner of his bedroom and sliding to the floor. He sits with his knees bent, his elbows resting atop them, his head hanging down, his hands in his hair.

"How, Rory? How did you get that fuckin' gash? What else haven't you told me? Tell me everything. No more hidin'. Please, I can't take anymore. Just get it all out, whatever else there is. Now. Please, Ror. Just tell me, please." He's rambling and begging and I'm destroyed by his pain. I'm not sure I've done the right thing for Cam by telling him any of this at all. But it's too late to turn back now - he's seen the cut, and there is nothing else, and I can't know what other horrors he must be imagining.

I walk tentatively to where he's sitting. I don't know if he hears me approach, but I'm afraid to sit too close, afraid how he'll react when I tell him this last part, and I don't want him to have to hold in his steam for fear of frightening me. I sit down on the floor a few feet away, leaning against his bed. He doesn't lift his head.

"He tried to rip off my underwear like-" I'm about to say "like usual" again, but Cam has said how it affects him to hear me talk about these things so matter-of-factly, so I catch myself. "I had my uniform on, so they were covered by my spankies. He couldn't just tear through them and he got real frustrated. He, uh, used his house key."

I'm aware of Cam's knuckles fisting in his hair, so tight they're turning white.

"I don't know if he even knew he was cuttin' me. He was just tryin' to get them off," I offer. I'm defending Robin. Why the hell am I defending Robin?

All of a sudden, Cam shoots up from his corner. "Stay here," he murmurs, and stalks toward the door.

"Cam-" I go after him, of course I do. He stops in the doorway and turns; I nearly smack into him.

"I'll be right back, okay? I promise. I don't want to scare you, Rory girl, and I just really need to yell and hit something right now." He follows my gaze to the giant hole he punched into the wall just minutes earlier.

"Something else," he amends, and then leaves, roughly closing the door behind him.

****

 

I cry face down on Cam's comforter that right now offers me no comfort whatsoever. I know Cam's in the garage, taking it all out on his punching bag. I hear his yells and grunts even through the floorboards. He doesn't let up for at least thirty minutes, and neither do my tears.

I don't hear him reenter, but I feel the bed dip as he sits beside me. I turn my head to find him shirtless and dripping with sweat, his muscles bulging from his workout, and I'm reminded that I'm still topless but for my bra.

Cam holds up a first aid kit. "You gonna let me redress that?" he asks softly, his fingertips gently grazing the side of my hip over my pants.

"It's fine," I murmur.

"Come on, Ror," he pleads, and I relent. He's right. The gauze should be changed. I roll over and sit up, wincing when he starts to roll down my waistband. "These are pressing on the wound, Ror," he chides.

I hold back from spewing some suggestive comment like "so take them off" and let him put ointment on the cut and redress it. I silently grumble to myself over the direction the evening has taken. I can't help but resent the fact that in such a short span of time, Cam has gone from seeing me as something to be desired, to some kind of pathetic, abused puppy.

Cam lightly runs his fingers from my hip up my side, stopping just under my bra. I shiver.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs as his eyes rake me from head to toe.

I can't help but roll my eyes before glancing down, my gaze lingering on the particularly excessive damage to the limited cleavage of my right breast. I look anything but beautiful.

"I mean it, Ror," he says, obviously guessing the root of my skepticism. His thumb gently brushes over the offending injuries - an especially vibrant bruise flanked by slightly lighter, smaller marks, all just under a perfect mold of Robin's teeth, all in black and blue.

His touch makes me tremble, and it's such an alien feeling - to be trembling from desire and not fear.

"Even with his marks all over you, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on... This?" He strokes my bruises again, then gestures to my cut. "It'll heal, Rory girl. But until it does, it still doesn't change how I look at you - how I've been lookin' at you since we hit fuckin' puberty, okay Ror?"

I blink at him, trying to process how he can find me attractive in this moment, but even more, how he always knows exactly what I'm thinking. My every concern, my every fear.

Cam leans in slowly, and kisses me softly. But before I can deepen the kiss, he pulls away, leaving his forehead pressed to mine. "This sure ain't how I imagined gettin' you topless for the first time," he murmurs, and we both laugh.

"I had no idea you'd ever imagined it at all," I admit.

Cam grins. "Only every five minutes since we were like twelve," he replies. "And that ain't all, either." He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and instead of laughing, I feel my pulse quicken.

"No?" I ask, willing him to elaborate.

"No," he mouths.

Cam stands abruptly, walks over to his dresser, and takes out his Linton football tee shirt with his last name and his number, twenty two, on the back. He slips it carefully over my head and I push both arms through the sleeves as Cam arranges it to cover my waist and hips, then gingerly reaches under the hem for my sweatpants, carefully tugging them over my hips, and I lift my backside to help him get them down.

Cam stares at me meaningfully, his eyes shining with a new kind of affection, one he's never openly shown me before. "We're gonna get you all better, Ror. We're gonna deal with Forbes. And then, when the time is right, I'm gonna show you how it's supposed to be when you have a boyfriend. How a man is supposed to treat the girl he loves, okay?"

My throat is completely dry, I can't speak, so I nod my eager agreement instead. I wonder how long it will be before Cam decides the time is right. I also wonder what exactly he means about dealing with Robin. But I don't want to think about that. I only want to think about the rest of it, because the idea of having Cam be my boyfriend, it's strangely both thrilling and calming. Like it was always supposed to be this way.

"When's he supposed to get back?" Cam asks.  

I hesitate, an instantaneous battle waging internally. But the need to keep Cam with me, from going after Robin and likely getting arrested, wins out.

"Tomorrow night," I mutter, not meeting his eyes, forcibly resisting the urge bite my lip. I tell myself it isn't really a lie. Robin is supposed to get back tomorrow night, he just happened to have come back early. I tell myself that this little semi-fib will give me time to figure out what to do. I know I have to do something, but what? File a police report?

Cam takes my hand. "And your parents?" he asks.

"Same." They will actually be returning tomorrow evening, and since the storm is expected to rage on until the afternoon, they will probably be back late.

"You have to tell your daddy, you know that, right?" Cam asks meaningfully.

I look down. "It won't-"

"Ror, he's the DA. If we go straight to the police it's gonna be passed on to him anyway. I know how hard it is on you, I really do, but I'll be with you the whole time, okay?

"Tomorrow I'm gonna go see Forbes - alone - and then we're gonna tell your daddy what he did. He's never gonna hurt you again, I swear to fuckin' God, you hear me?"

Cam's being so supportive, of course he is. He's always been here for me, my whole life, no matter what. But in this case, I don't think his support will be enough. And I can't let him go "see" Robin - I know what that means. But I have all day to prevent that confrontation from taking place, and right now I need Cam to help me figure out how, because obviously my father isn't going to be any help. Not for me, anyway.

"You don't understand," I breathe, pausing to swipe at my tears with the back of my hand. "My daddy, he's not... we gotta figure somethin' else out, okay?"

Cam lifts my chin so our gazes lock. He doesn't say anything - we are having another one of our silent exchanges. He's asking me what I'm holding back and I'm telling him it hurts to say. He doesn't relent, and I know I have to tell him why going to my father isn't an option.

"Look, he's not gonna help me. I already tried, okay?"

Cam narrows his eyes, but doesn't release my chin. "What do you mean?" he asks carefully. I know he's going to get angry all over again, and I question why I'm holding back my own anger. My own father betrayed me, I know it, and yet, every time I think about it, his words haunt me all over again, and I question, for the millionth time, how much of this I actually brought on myself.1

"I tried to tell him. No, I did tell him. I didn't wanna go with Robin this weekend, but my daddy thought it'd be a good idea to tour the campus since I'd be going there next year. That I had to if I wanted things to work out with Robin. I told him it wasn't what I wanted anyway. But he said that there was somethin' wrong with me, that I was lucky Robin chose me and... I panicked, and I told him! I told him Robin hurt me, that he forced me.

"But Daddy got mad. He said I was mistaken, that Robin could have anyone he wanted and I was just a small town girl - a dime a dozen. He said Robin would never have to make anyone do anything. And I know that, I know Robin could have anyone, but he did, he made me!"

I sniffle and reach over to Cam's nightstand for a tissue to wipe my nose. I feel so defeated. "He said if Robin did that then it was my fault - that I asked for it by the way I've been dressin’. That Robin misunderstood because he'd never do that to me if he didn't think I wanted him to - because he loved me. He said not to fuck that up."

Cam is silent for minutes. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rumble, weighed down by a calm fury. "Well, shit. I always knew your dad was a dick, but... shit." He wraps his arms around me, tucking my head under his chin, and in his embrace, I can finally think straight.

I let out an short laugh. "Yeah, he is," I agree.

"When was all this?" Cam asks.

"Monday."

I feel Cam tremble with rage, but he holds it in, and his arms hold me tight. "Then what happened yesterday was his fault as much as Forbes's." He huffs a deep breath. "I'll never understand why you didn't come to me, Rory girl," he says shakily, so softly I'm not sure if it was meant for me or himself, and before I can even open my mouth to tell him I never will either, he continues. "I don't know yet how we're gonna handle him, Ror, but he doesn't deserve to be a daddy. Definitely not your daddy, and I ain't gonna let him get away with this, I swear it."

I nod against Cam's chest. I can't argue with him, because he's right. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, telling my daddy what Robin's been doing, and he rejected it - he rejected me. And both times it's happened since then, including yesterday, is on his shoulders. He was supposed to protect me. I know that. And right now, I realize how much I hate my father. He doesn't deserve my forgiveness. I grip Cam so tight my bruises smart, but I need him. He's all I have in the world.

"We'll go straight to Sheriff Chipley. File a report - get it in writin'. They won't be able to cover it up after that - we won't let them, okay?" he says with gentle fervor, but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as me. "They're gonna try, you know. Mayor Forbes will, and if your daddy is on their side... we're gonna have a fight on our hands. But I'm standin' by you, Ror, okay? He ain't gonna hurt you again. Not ever."

I nod again. This is what I needed - a plan. Chip's daddy is the town sheriff, and I can't be sure, but I don't think he would help the Forbes cover this up. He's not the country club type; he doesn't care about all that. From what I know about him professionally, he believes in justice, doing things by the book, and I'm counting on it, because Cam's right - this is going to be a fight.

"Everyone is gonna know," I whisper. My gut rolls with thoughts of the humiliation I'm bound to endure. People will take sides, and even those who take pity on me, they'll see me differently.

Cam doesn't argue the point. He knows I'm right. He just squeezes me tighter. "I know, Rory girl. But we're gonna get through this, okay? I promise you that." Not "you're gonna get through this", but we.

I nod again. "Okay."

Cam sighs. "Alright, let's get to bed. You must be exhausted, and I need a shower. You want me to run you a bath in my mom's bathroom?"

"Nah," I reply, pulling out of his arms, "I just wanna sleep." Cam lifts the comforter and I slide underneath it and curl up on my side.

While Cam showers I plan it all out in my head. He's going to want to wait to talk to the sheriff until tomorrow night, after he has time to confront Robin, which I absolutely cannot allow to happen. I know I'll have to do this part alone.

Cam hasn't willingly woken up before ten in the morning since we were kids, so all I have to do is wake up early and drive over to the Sheriff's station. God willing, Robin will be arrested before Cam even knows he's back in town, and I can prevent their confrontation.

After his shower, Cam climbs into bed behind me in just his flannel pajama bottoms and pulls me back against him. I twist around so I'm facing him instead, and tuck my head under his chin, nuzzling the nook between his neck and shoulder, and breathe in his clean, familiar scent. I don't bother trying to mask my deliberate inhale - I don't care if he knows I'm sniffing him. Cam tightens his hold, tenderly strokes my hair, and whispers how everything's going to be okay. I think I'm actually starting to believe him.

****

 

It's still dark when I wake next, save for the moonlight and some bright distant light source I suspect to be the flashlight app on Cam's phone. I know what he's up to before I even open my eyes - the same thing he always does when he can't sleep. My eyes flutter open and I confirm that he's seated at his desk, furiously scribbling away in his journal. I watch him as he writes, his bare, broad shoulders tensely flexing with the effort, until he peeks over at me and catches me spying.

"Didn't mean to wake you, Rory girl," he murmurs.

"Then come back to bed," I croak.

Cam smiles weakly before abandoning his journal, and returning to his rightful spot to resume his hold of me.

"I can't sleep without you," I whisper into his chest. I'm certain I can't live without him either, but I don't say that, not now when I've already burdened him enough.

Cam soothes his fingers through my hair. "You got me, Rory girl. You'll always have me. I love you so damn much - I ain't ever gonna leave you," he breathes. And with those comforting words, despite all of my pain, all the hell I've been living, and the tempest I'm about to unleash on this town with tomorrow's confession - one far more tumultuous than the storm currently raging outside - I feel an unfathomable contentment, and drift off to sleep, safe in Cam's arms.

I have no way of knowing how short lived my contentment will be. No way of knowing that Cam's words will be his last to me, and thus, a lie.