TWENTY-TWO
Cammie
“Oh, Cammie. I’m so glad you’re here. I had a couple of mums lined up to help me get the tables set out, but one’s stuck in the traffic, and the other has a son who won’t stop vomiting.” The manager of the kindergarten, stands with her arms full of streamers and her eyes full of panic.
“Point me in a direction, Jacinda, and I’ll have them laid out in no time.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
I set my bag down with the boxes of decorations and activity supplies and get to work laying out the trestle tables in the closed off car park. By the time the sun goes down and the parents return with their children, we have six stations set up with various activities for the kiddies to try out to get spot prizes and crafts to take home. I get comfortable at my face-painting station as Jacinda rushes past again, a huge tub of swollen water balloons in her hands.
“Have you got everything you need?”
“I think so.” I do a quick glance over the table, mentally cataloguing the brushes, paints, and accessories.
“If you need anything, flag down one of the girls to get it for you.” Her shoulders drop as her face softens, and I know, I just know, she’s about to do it. “You know, it really is amazing that you still help us out.”
She doesn’t have to say it. The unspoken words hang in the air between us. “Even though your daughter doesn’t come here anymore.”
“I honestly don’t mind.” I offer her a smile, hoping she’ll drop the subject and leave.
To be honest, I think the heavy tub in her hands is probably the reason she chooses to drop the conversation and carry on, but either way, I’m happy she does.
I started out helping with the fundraiser partially as a way to say thanks to the girls for the great care they gave Taylah, but mostly to prove to myself and the community that even though the headlines dumped the reason for our daughter’s death squarely on me, I wasn’t the cold-blooded monster the write-ups made me out to be. That I could still be useful, helpful, and a welcome face in our town.
Now I’m stuck in a catch twenty-two. If I keep going, people look at me with the pity I spoke to Duke about, thinking, “Poor old, Cammie. Can’t find it in herself to let go.” But at the same time, if I stop, then I get the flipside with people thinking I don’t care anymore. “You know her heart was never really in it, don’t you?”
So here I sit, sponging white paint over a child’s face with a smile while on the inside I’m in turmoil over what I should do next year. What’s worse, I hate letting people down, and I could almost guarantee if I tell Jacinda this is it, disappointed is how she’ll react.
“Hey, Cammie.”
I look up from the skeleton I’m working on to find Archie standing in line with his little girl. “Oh, hey, Archie. How are things going at the workshop?”
“Part’s on its way for your houseguest, so he should be out of town soon enough.”
Totally not what I meant, but okay. “He’ll be pleased to hear that.” Although I can’t deny the rush of panic that sends my heart into a flutter when I think about Duke leaving.
“Think you could do us a wee butterfly, here?” he asks. “I’ve just seen a guy I need to talk to about some mods.”
“Yeah, sure.” I offer him a smile as I darken the under eye of the boy in my chair. “I’ll keep an eye on this little ratbag.” Archie’s girl giggles as I reach out and tickle her belly.
“Thanks, Cammie.”
Thanks, Cammie. Thanks, Cam. Thanks, thanks, thanks.
The word cycles in my head, irritating the hell out of me. It’s never really struck me before, but I hear it so often because, at the end of the day, I do so much for everyone. Not that I mind being thanked. I mean, it’s common courtesy to show your appreciation when a person helps you out. But for the first time, as I paint obtuse triangles to make my skeleton’s cheeks appear sunken, I realise I hardly ever say it myself.
And a girl’s got to ask herself, why is that?
Because how often does anyone return the favour?
“Are you done?”
I snap my focus back to the boy in the chair as he looks up at me sitting there with my brush mid-stroke. “Almost, honey.”
No wonder I’m finding myself so easily taken by Duke—aside from my mother, he’s the first person to try to help me without any expectation of reward, and, well, family doesn’t count really.
I finish up the skeleton and send him on his way, rinsing my brush off as I usher Archie’s girl into the seat. “A butterfly, right?”
She gives me a huge gap-toothed grin. “Yeah. Purple and pink, please.”
“With manners like that? Of course.”
I start into her art, outlining the wings as I catch glimpses of other people here tonight. Most of them I know in one way or another, from school, through my parents, or acquaintances of mine and Jared’s who drifted away after the separation. I know these people, would have gone as far as to call them friends once, but when it comes down to it, I guess you find out who your true pals are in times of crisis.
When I needed them most, who did I have? The girls here dropped by a few times in the first couple of weeks after Taylah’s death, but now that I think about it, how much of that was obligation? I don’t see Jacinda outside of these functions; she doesn’t pop over for a wine, or ask me around to her place. So many friendly faces in this town, but not many actual friends.
“Should we add some white spots on the wings?” Perhaps if I convince this child in front of me I’m invested in the lop-sided butterfly, I might convince myself, too.
“You need another antennae.”
I follow the outstretched finger up the thick forearm to the even thicker bicep and the man attached.
“Are you okay?” Not my finest greeting, I’m aware.
“I think so,” Duke answers with a smile. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
I chuckle as he mimics the line I gave him the night we first met.
“How did you get here, though?” It’s dark out; he would have had to walk. Those two things don’t compute.
Duke thumbs over his shoulder to my meddling mother, who’s failing in her attempt to look engrossed in Mrs Aitchison’s conversation and not as though she’s watching us.
I lean out around Duke and poke my tongue out at her. She gives me a cute little finger wave. Cow.
“Did she call you, or did you call her?” I ask Duke as I return to fixing the butterfly. “There. All done, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Cammie.”
I manage to stave off the hug and restrict it to a pat on the shoulder so that her butterfly doesn’t turn into a Picasso tribute on my shirt.
“I called her,” Duke answers as he drops into the vacant seat.
I giggle at the sight of him crammed on a kids chair, his knees up around his ears. “Let me guess. Spiderman?”
He wrinkles his nose at the idea. “Nah. Set of lips, right here.” He taps his cheek with a thick finger.
“Whatever rocks your boat, I guess.” I rinse the brush and go to dip it in the red paint when he stops me.
“Not painted.”
What?
“Set of lips, babe. Right here.”
Oh, I get it now. Oh.
I lean in and place my mouth to his cheek, dotting a gentle peck on his unbelievably sharp stubble.
He makes a throaty grumble as he rests a hand on my knee. “Better.”
“You’re amazing, you know that? For coming out tonight.”
He chuckles, reaching around me to scoot my chair closer to his. “I admit I faked being on Facebook most of the car ride here so I could light up the interior. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
“Any bad guys jump out of the bushes yet?”
His face falls, his eyes hardening. “It’s not a joke.”
“And I’m not kidding,” I say with a straight face, doing my best to un-wedge my foot from my mouth. “I want to know if I need an escort to my car later.”
He smiles, seeming to pick up on my regret, and reaches out to tap the underside of my chin with his finger. “I think you’ll be okay.”
As much as I love this sudden turnaround back to the cute and cuddly Duke, I can’t fight the need to look around and check who watches. What will they think? This guy rocks up in our town a few days ago, and here I am, getting up close and personal already? Shit—what if the gossip gets back to Jared? The arsehole would use that against me in a heartbeat.
“What’s the matter?” Duke leans back, his hand sliding off my leg.
“It’s not that I’m embarrassed—”
“But I’m being too forward around your friends,” he finishes with an ache in his tone.
“They’re not my friends—that’s just it.” I glance over at Jacinda, who lifts a hand in acknowledgement. “I don’t know who to trust, who has my best intentions at heart.”
“These people love you,” he says, as though surprised I would think otherwise. “When I came into town the other day on my own, you were all they could talk about. ‘Oh, you’re staying with Cammie,’” he mimics. “‘You two will get along great’. ‘She’ll enjoy the company. Such a lovely girl, that she is.’” He twitches a quick smile. “Even got another warning from your cousin.”
I chuckle at the voices he puts on, imagining the old ladies around town giving him their two cents’ worth, not to mention my overzealous relatives. “I’m sorry about him. He’s just protective since Jared left me how he did.”
“Oh, no,” he says with a chuckle. “It wasn’t just him. Archie was another who passively told me he’d rip me apart if I was an arsehole to you.”
“Great.” I roll my eyes. “So you’re just being nice because you’re scared of a mechanic and a cop.”
“Hardly. I’m being nice because I want the car fixed and to stay out of jail in the meantime.” He winks, a playful grin on his heavenly lips.
A little girl steps in between us, which is quite the feat given our proximity. “Can I be a puppy?”
“You can be whatever you want, sweetheart,” Duke tells her as he vacates the seat. “I’ll hang around with your mum until you’re done,” he says, backing away.
“Sure. Don’t let her chew your ear off, though.”
He chuckles, fading into the darkened car park. “Nah, that’s your job.”
I end up painting Spiderman, not once, but five times. Still, the smiles on the kids’ faces when they check themselves out in the hand mirror I have on standby make it totally worth it. The crowd thins out relatively fast, and by eight the car park is empty save for those of us left behind to clean up. Small bonuses that come with volunteering at a children’s event—early finish times.
“If you want to head off, I can finish up here,” Jacinda offers as I rinse out the paint pots under the outdoor tap.
“Are you sure?”
She grins, jerking her chin to indicate over my shoulder. “Babe, if any man can put up with your mother for that long, he deserves to take you home early.”
I look behind me and find Duke watching us as, sure enough, my mother chews his ear off.
“Who is the guy, anyway? He’s cute.”
A pang of irritation spikes in my chest at the way she blatantly eye-fucks him. “I’ll catch up with you later in the week, huh?” I shove the pots into her grasp. “You can tell me how much you managed to raise tonight.”
“Sure thing.” She wriggles on the spot. “Here he comes, Cam. Like I said—cute.”
I restrain from flipping her the bird as she walks away. I’ve never felt this possessive over a man, not even Jared, and to be frank, it scares me. He’s been here all of four days …
“Ready to go home?”
… and I’m ready to rake my nails over the guy to lay claim. “Sure. Let me grab my bag.”
Duke lifts his hand to show the tote slung in his grasp. “Already got it.”
“I better say goodnight to Mum.”
“She’s gone already.”
Well, that was quick … “I guess I’m all done here then,” I announce with a quick flap of my arms.
And yet, I don’t move.
I knew Duke was hot the minute I first laid eyes on him. I knew he’d be a handful when I invited him to stay. Hell, I knew he’d get under my skin when he first criticised where I keep my coffee. But damn, I never expected to be blindsided with feelings for him like I have been.
I can’t move, can’t make that first step toward home because I know what’ll happen when we get there.
He’ll offer to make me a hot drink before bed. I’ll have a shower where I’ll think about him to the point that I’ll consider the logistics of sneaking my vibrator into the bathroom with me next time. He’ll strip down to only his sweatpants while he waits on me to go to bed, and the whole time I’ll be wondering how long I should wait before making another move so that I don’t come off as desperate, hoping he’ll spare me the torture by doing it first.
I think a fire walk would be less stressful right now.
“You kind of need to show me where you parked,” he coaxes.
“Right.” Get in the car and get him home where it’s lit up like a damn Christmas tree. The man doesn’t like the dark. He’s bound to get uncomfortable if we’re still standing here when Jacinda turns the fairy lights off.
Duke reaches out, taking my hand. “It’s supposed to be me who’s freaking out, remember?”
“Are you?” I put one foot after the other and somehow manage to remember how to walk.
“Not too bad.” He squeezes my hand as we head out of the kindergarten car park. “Heart rate’s elevated, my subconscious is chatty, but I’m managing to keep a lid on it so far.”
“I’m so proud of you for coming tonight.”
“Gee, thanks, Cam,” he teases.
“No, really.” I tug his hand as we near the side street I parked on. “I am proud of you. I gave you an out, and yet you still came. Why?”
“It was important.” He shrugs, as though to dismiss the subject.
But I don’t want to let it go. I want to know why staying here with me, a woman he’s known less than a week, has finally given him the strength to face this fear of his?
“Can we talk about where this thing with us is at?” I pull my hand free as we approach the BMW.
He hastily pulls his phone out as soon the street lights end, and yet he doesn’t turn it on; he palms it, turning it over in his hand.
“What do you want to discuss?” The second I unlock the car he’s in the front seat quicker than an excited dog.
I drop down into the driver’s seat and twist to set my bag in the back. “Was our … fooling around some heat-of-the-moment thing? A once-off?”
The level at which I’m able to keep my emotions at check seriously impresses me. Normally, I avoid conversations such as this because they’re too hard. If I can deny, deny, deny, then that’s what I’ll do.
And yet, here I am, watching Duke, cool as a cucumber while he formulates a careful answer.
“It might have been heat-of-the-moment, but it wasn’t a mistake, Cam. You know that.”
“But?” I sense his hesitancy.
“But, we’re fucking strangers, right?” He laughs awkwardly as I start the car. “Don’t you think what we did in your paddock was kind of putting the horse before the cart?”
I roll my eyes, gunning the car into the street. “I hardly asked you to marry me, Duke. It was a bit of light groping.”
“I finger-fucked you.”
“You wanted to,” I blurt out in an attempt to ignore the fire those words have ignited in me. “Besides, you were the one who pulled me onto your boner yesterday morning. So that’s twice now that you’ve instigated things.”
“You looked hot.” He dismisses the fact as though it’s self-explanatory why I should accept a rock-hard dick being pressed against me as part of a normal morning routine. “Isn’t it normal for a guy to get a hard-on when there’s a good looking woman that close to him?”
“You’d think so, but I can name one guy who didn’t find me that appealing.”
Duke twists in his seat to face me, a frown visible in the dim confines of the car.
“Jared,” I confirm what he’s no doubt thinking. “My ex. The one who visited the other day.”
He keeps staring, his eyes moving up and down my body as I drive.
“What?”
“Just trying to figure out how exactly he could wake up next to you and not get a morning wood.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“You started it.”
I look across at him as I bring the car to a stop at one of the few sets of lights in our town. He grins back, and the two of us fall apart laughing at the direction our “serious” chat has gone.
“How on earth did we go from ‘What’s up with us?’ to ‘What kind of guy doesn’t get a boner in the morning?’” I ask with a laugh.
Duke shrugs, scooting down in his seat to prop one boot up on the side of my centre console. “I have no idea, but it’s a legitimate question. Was the guy impotent or something?”
“We had a daughter, remember?” It saddens me how easily I stated that, how relatively unaffected I am referring to Taylah in conversation.
One step at a time.
“True that.” He sighs, staring out the window. “I don’t know what to say about last night, Cam, other than I liked it and I’ve been trying to work it out for myself all day. All I know are three things: one, I’m only here a few more days; two, I already miss you when you’re not in the house; and three, that doesn’t change the fact your funny habits drive me insane.”
“You miss me?” I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as we accelerate onto the stretch of open road before home.
“Yeah.” He rolls his head on the rest in my periphery. “It’s quiet, and although I normally love the quiet, I think that’s because I never knew how good it was to have somebody around who drowns out the bullshit noise in my head.”
“I thought you were a hothead,” I admit, peering over at him every so often from the corner of my eye. “You lost it at me for asking what the army is like, and I thought you were an arrogant arsehole who needed to calm the hell down.”
He chuckles, his hand tapping his leg.
“What?”
“You thought that was me losing my temper?”
Oh, damn. “Was it not?”
“Nope.” He laughs, nudging my leg with a loose fist. “It’s okay, Cam. I’m sure you’ll never see that side of me. I’ve got to get pretty damn pissed off to lose it completely.”
“It’s not funny, you know. That kind of temper is the sort of thing you said split up your parents.”
“Good thing I’m not married anymore then.” He scoots up in his seat as we approach the house. “My temper is the reason why I went into the army to begin with,” he admits. “Somebody told me I was just like my old man at my age, and that messed me up. I wanted a valid outlet for my rage, a way to get rid of the fact I was nineteen and pissed off at the world. I didn’t want to be him.”
“Did it work? I would have thought the regiment of daily life would have made your anger worse, considering you’d need to keep it in check most of the time.”
“It worked at first. I threw myself into working out and staying not only physically but mentally fit.”
“And then?”
“Decked a fellow soldier for harassing one of the local women on our first tour in Iraq.”
I bring the car to a stop in the driveway, the lights inside the house beckoning me to bed. But this progress is more important. Infinitely so. “What happened then?”
Duke continues to relax in the seat, staring straight out the windscreen as he talks. “Luckily for me, it happened when we were off-duty, so I got away with a warning. The meathead I punched in the face didn’t get so much as a fucking talking to. There was evidence of what I did—his face—but nothing of what he had done to instigate it.”
“Well, I bet the woman appreciated what you did.”
He chuckles. “Not sure. She ran away screaming something in her language. Poor bitch probably thought we were arguing over who was going to have her first.”
Possibly, but still. He defended the honour of a woman he didn’t know.
“Come.” I open my door to get out.
“Can I turn my torch on now?” His whispered question stills me.
This whole time he’s held off, even when he’s been freaking out? “Of course. We’ll probably need it anyway.”
I round the car to his side and wait for him to get his phone sorted out. White light spills over the gravel driveway as I lead us away from the house.
“Where are we going, Cam?”
“I want to show you something.” I offer him my hand for support, glad when he takes it.
He follows dutifully beside as I lead him back down the drive to the gateway at the road. I come to a stop a few feet back from the road’s edge and take a deep breath. Listening to Duke share his history, the things that make him tick, it’s inspired me. If he can face his nightmares head on, dissect and work out what it is about those memories that tear him apart, then why can’t I?
“You know how you told me you fear the dark because of its connection to when you were hurt?”
“Yeah.”
“It took me almost a year before I could leave the house at dusk. That hour between sundown and night is the most beautiful of the day, I reckon, but for so long what the shades of orange and hints of purple represented scared the ever-loving shit out of me. I couldn’t come down here, on foot or in the car, for so long.”
“Because that’s when she died.” Duke takes a step closer, looping an arm around my shoulders and tucking me to his side.
I nod, and then point to a rough patch of grass where the bitumen has chipped, the layers from repeated resealing of the road visible. “That’s where the woman hit her.” I turn in his hold, taking him with me, and point out a rose bush planted slightly offset from the letterbox. “That’s where she landed.”
“Cam, you don’t have to do this.”
“I do.” My nose tingles, my eyes sore as the pressure builds within my ears. I fight the tears because after all, what have they ever brought me? Certainly not relief. “I want you to understand, Duke, that nightmares happen in the brilliance of the day as well as the dark of night. A tragic incident is something we can’t foresee. Even though we beat ourselves up over the details that are so freaking obvious afterward, there’s nothing anyone can do to prevent a true tragedy. Living life afraid of the what-ifs is letting death win before you’ve even reached the final act.”
His chest rises with his deep breath. “You ever feel like you’re on this hamster wheel where no matter how fast you run, how much you tire yourself out trying to get ahead, you’re still stuck in that same rut?”
“Every goddamn day,” I say. “Jared used to tell me that if I bothered to stop and take a breath, I might find that I was actually able to breathe. He thought I would work myself into a frenzy as a charade, a way to prove to people I actually felt guilty for what I did. In his head, I didn’t really care. Because he blames me, he can’t see how it was possible for me to be affected by Taylah’s death. He thought I did it all for show: constant volunteering, working overtime, offering to help people shift house, redecorate—anything that would keep me busy.” I rest my head back against Duke’s arm and stare over the tree line at the stars beyond. “Truth is, I tried to stop and breathe a few times, but I never felt like there was any air left for me. Instead, my chest would ache as though I was taking on water, drowning in my grief. As long as I found a way to keep busy, I found a way to tread water and stay afloat. I found a way to live.”
“And now?” Duke asks gently.
“Now, staying busy is my hamster wheel. Only my wheel is suspended over a black ocean of every mistake I’ve ever made, and if I falter, I’ll drown.”
His arm cinches tighter, pulling me close enough that he lays a gentle kiss to my head. “Seems we’re both as tethered to our past as each other.”
I huff a short, bitter laugh. “Want to cut the cord with me?”
Duke pulls me flush against him, wrapping me inside his strong, warm arms as he rests his chin atop my head. “Woman, I’d dive into the black and drown with you, because for once, I don’t think I’d be afraid if you were with me.”