Island of Secrets and Scars

Chapter Twenty

Normally, Ian enjoyed nights like this one. A full, round moon glowed in the starless sky. Saltwater and plants he’d never known the name of scented the cool air. And he was headed to spend the night with the woman he loved. The woman he’d thought he lost. But tonight was for goodbyes—at least for a little while. Although he had a list of arguments ready for why she should come home with him, he knew continuing to ask was useless. Cameron had made her decision. The island wasn’t just home to Arabella and Keso. This place and the people here had become her home and her family. He couldn’t expect her to give up this life for him.

When he stepped onto Cameron’s porch, no lights shone from inside. Surely, she hadn’t gone anywhere else. He’d gotten held up talking with Wes and Edmund, but he’d told her he’d be here. Maybe Arabella or Esme needed her. If so, she’d return. He’d just wait on her. This night wouldn’t end without them talking.

Stepping into a patch of moonlight, his gaze caught on a drop of dark liquid on the porch slats. Squinting, he bent to get a closer look. Though he couldn’t see well in the scant light, the drop looked like blood.

His head whipped up to scan the porch and yard beyond. The door to Cameron’s bedroom hung by a hinge, the sheer curtains fluttering slightly with the breeze.

Heart thundering in his chest, he lurched forward. A trail of dark drops led him into the house.

“Cam, are you here?” His foot stubbed against something. The object gave slightly. Glancing down, Ian’s entire world stopped. A foot with pink tipped toes—a foot he’d massaged a thousand times during Cam’s pregnancy—poked out from beside her bed.

“Cam.” His voice cracked. Fear swamped him, making the few steps to the other side of the bed seem mired in quicksand. “Cam. Baby.”

She lay with her eyes closed. Her face appeared placid, almost peaceful. If not for the blood still dripping from her nose to the rug below, he might believe she slept. Her chest was as still as the rest of her. Tears filled his eyes, and ice-cold fear coursed through his veins.

“Cam!” he bellowed, pressing his fingers to her neck. No life moved there.

“No.” The same fear and panic he’d felt when he’d rushed into the room where Wes operated on her years ago washed over him. “No.” His voice grew louder. He refused to let her go again, even to death.

Ignoring the bruises already forming on her body, he began pumping her chest, stopping only to place his lips to hers and blow air into her lungs.

“Come on baby,” he muttered, kneeling above her then plunging his weight onto her chest. The first rib snapped, breaking the dam inside of him that had kept his tears at bay. As they slid down his cheeks, he leaned forward again, lips to lips, and breathed.

Finally, he felt the slightest movement of air against his mouth. Pulling away, he slid his hand to the vein at the side of her neck. A faint bump of a pulse fluttered beneath his fingers. Almost choking on the sob that escaped him, he scooped her into his arms and ran from the cottage.

* * *

Ian sat atop the picnic table, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Cameron’s lifeless body. His stomach still churned with terror and hopelessness. He couldn’t lose Cameron again. Not like this. Not forever. Behind him, the clinic door opened. He spun and found Wes backlit by the low light of the lobby. He was glad he couldn’t see the other man’s face. The two of them had shared too much hell concerning Cameron.

Wes approached. “She’s awake.”

Relief washed over Ian, making it difficult to stand. “Is she . . .” What did he ask? Was she okay? God, how could she be?

“She’s shaky and in pain. Her voice is pretty ragged. I’m sure talking hurts. But she’s alive, and she’ll heal.”

As his friend spoke, Ian nodded. Yes, Cameron was alive, and she’d heal. Anything else, they’d get through—this time together. He started for the door.

Wes stepped into his path. “Keso’s with her now. You may want to wait.”

Hell no, he didn’t want to wait. He didn’t know how, but that bastard and whatever secrets he and Cameron kept had caused this. Ian wouldn’t allow Cameron to experience any more discomfort because of him. “You let him in there? After what he did?”

Wes’s eyes narrowed. Wrinkles formed between his brows. “He didn’t attack her. You can’t blame him.”

Rage replaced the relief he’d felt moments before. “Like hell I can’t. That asshole brought trouble to her door. Whatever he did on the big island to get the hell beat out of him came back on her. I swear to God if she hadn’t woken up, I would’ve killed that son of a bitch.”

“Ian. He’s Ara’s father.”

“I should kill him for that too.” At first, jealousy that Keso had been Cameron’s lover had swamped him. Now that he’d gotten to know Arabella, that jealousy had grown to encompass the fact the other man got to be her father too. The bastard had everything Ian could ever want, and yet he seemed hell-bent on ruining it.

“Cameron cares for him.” Wes spoke low, calm. His words only served to further enrage Ian. “This is her life, Ian. She may have welcomed you back into her bed, but she hasn’t made space for you in her life.”

“Are you trying to make me hit you?” Why the hell else would his best friend say such asinine things? Cameron had let him back in her life. For now.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” the other man reminded him.

“Like hell I am. I can’t leave her now. She’s hurt, she’s—”

“She may not want you to stay. I’ll wait with you, but you have to listen to what she wants.”

“And if she doesn’t know what she wants?”

Sighing, his friend met his gaze. “I think she does.”

“Well, she doesn’t know what she needs. I can convince—”

“No,” Wes snapped. “Let that woman make her own choices, Ian. If you love her, trust her—”

“I trusted her before, and look where we are now.” Scrubbing both hands through his hair, he turned to pace away from his friend. Staying on this island with danger lurking around the corner was ridiculous. Cameron needed to be back home with him, working in a proper hospital. If she still wanted to help less privileged and developed countries, she could work with their group again. She didn’t have to isolate herself to make a difference. “I’m going in there.”

Wes’s jaw tightened. Ian didn’t give a damn. The more time he spent out here, the more time Cameron could convince herself he didn’t care. And the more time Keso could convince her he did.

Ian pushed past Wes, striding to the room that had seen a revolving door of patients since his arrival. Tears, he thought long depleted, sprung to his eyes when he spotted Cameron in the hospital bed. Her face resembled a painting of a stormy night. Blues and purples in varying shades leaked from beneath her swollen eyes and over her broken nose. A cut ran diagonally across her lip, tiny stitches visible from the doorway. And a necklace of purple and black fingerprints wrung her neck.

Beside her bed, Keso paced, one arm held in a sling. With the other hand, he clutched the back of his neck.

“I told you,” she whispered. “He would’ve left us alone but—”

“He didn’t leave us alone,” Keso countered. “From the moment he saw you, he hasn’t let up. Maybe I sped up his actions, but I didn’t cause them.”

“Yes.” She stopped, coughing to clear her throat. “Yes, you did. You gave him no choice. Maybe he wanted to check things out. Maybe—”

Keso scoffed. “He wanted you… and . . .” He moved to the other side of the room, his voice too far away for Ian to hear.

“You have to let this go,” she hissed. “Next time—”

“There will be no next time,” Keso snapped. “He’ll think you’re dead.”

“For how long?” She shook her head, wincing. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll be back for what’s his. He can’t afford to leave proof. You could use her against him.”

Keso’s eyes widened, his jaw hinging open. “I would never endanger her.”