Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“I’m not going to drink this, you know,” he growls, nodding at the expensive looking bottle of scotch. “I just keep it around as a reminder. You know, like keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”
I nod, and he smiles sadly.
“I was a different guy, three years ago, Waverly. I was riding high on my career, and I was arrogant, and stupid. I was so fucking stupid. I had it all, baby.”
I swallow. “You were going to the Olympics, right?” I remember my mom telling me about it when he was hired, and Camden nods.
“Yeah,” he growls dryly. “I was. And then I…”
Pain flashes in front of his eyes, and his jaw tightens. I squeeze his hand, and he looks away.
“I was drunk. And high. And I drove that night. I—” he swallows, taking a deep breath. “You’ve seen the picture on my wall, with the blonde girl?”
I nod, and for a second, my mouth tightens. There’s also a picture of her on the mantle in his living room, but I’ve never said anything. I mean, he’s twenty-eight. There has to have been serious girls in his life before me. And even if I hate the idea of that, it’s just life.
“Yeah, I’ve… I’ve seen her,” I say tightly.
Camden’s mouth twists into a small smile. “Not what you’re thinking, Waverly,” he says quietly. “Her name was Gina, and she was my sister.”
My gut twists, and my face falls.
Was.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, squeezing his hand tighter.
“I went to get her that night. I was throwing this big stupid party at my house, and I was so beyond the ability to drive, but I went to get her because her boyfriend at the time was beating on her. I went there to kill him, Waverly,” he growls. “Like, literally. I went there with every intention of killing him with my bare hands. But he was gone when I got to their place. So, I took Gina with me, instead.”
His eyes squeeze shut, more of that pained look crossing his face.
“Gina struggled with depression, and anxiety, and a bunch of other shit. Our dad was…” his jaw clenches tight. “Our dad was a demon, Waverly. He used to beat on both of us, especially after our mom took off. But it was worse with Gina. I think he saw mom in her more, and when he smacked her around, he fucking made hurt.”
Tears brim my eyes, and my fingers lace with his tightly.
“She was drunk that night too, and low, and just so fucking sad. I saw it, I just didn’t see it, you know?” His voice breaks, his chest rising and falling as he swallows thickly.
“We were going back to my place, and I was barely able to even see the road I was so fucked up. And she was talking to me. She was trying to tell me how bad it was, and I just kept trying to be the cheerful one, you know? I kept telling her it was ‘all going to be okay,’ or that I was going to ‘fix it,’ whatever the fuck that means. Waverly, I could barely concentrate on the road, so when she was talking—”
He winces, his eyes squeezing shut again, and my heart breaks.
“Camden, you don’t have to tell—”
“Yes, I do.”
His eyes open, so full of pain and hurt, but he just keeps going.
“We were driving over this big overpass bridge over the bay, and she—”
He shakes his head.
“She was there, and then she was gone, Waverly,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t looking, and she just opened the car door and…”
“Camden—”
“She jumped, and she died, and I was right fucking there, and I couldn’t save her.”
Tears stream down my face as I lunge into him, hugging him fiercely as he holds me so tight, I can barely breathe. But we just cling to each other like that, breathing, living, and just feeling each other’s heartbeats.
“The scars on my back,” he growls quietly. “Those came pretty much right after that. I drove my car into the back of a tractor trailer, flipped it about ten times, and somehow, I’m the one that lived that night. USA Swimming cut me from the Olympic team and banned me from competition because of the drugs in my system. And I spent the next three years in a dark but sober hole, taking it one second at a time,” he whispers as he pulls back, his eyes locking with mine.
“Until I met you.”
He moves in, and when our lips come together, it’s not this wild passionate sexy-time kiss, it’s just slow, and deep, and intimate. It’s pain and love. It’s healing and understanding. And we just stay like that, kissing slowly in the dark kitchen for God knows how long, until suddenly, my phone goes off.
“Fuck,” I groan, pulling away to yank it out of my bag and silence it. But when I glance at the screen, I wince.