A noise over near the door drew my attention. Cam stood leaning against the wall looking at me with a strange expression on his face. I tried to smile, but my mind was a jumble of worries and fears, and I felt like the next problem was about to jump out and startle me at any moment.
Just like Bea said. I was in a perpetual state of fight or flight.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Talked a little with Bea.”
“You ran out of there pretty fast.”
I shrugged and looked away. I didn’t know how I could explain to him how I felt, so I didn’t try. “The cigar smoke got to me. Dad used to smoke those things.”
He let out a soft breath and walked over. “I’m sorry I’m dragging you through this,” he said. “I know it’s hard, but I’m trying to do right by you.”
“I know,” I said, and forced myself to smile even if I didn’t feel like smiling at all. “I got myself into this mess, right? You’re just getting me out of it.”
He took my hand and helped me up off the stool. I put my mug down and instead of leading me back through the house, he tugged me up against him and wrapped his arms tight about my body.
For one second, I panicked. I wasn’t used to this, to being held and touched and hugged. Out there, when a man like him got close, I either fought or ran away.
Fight or flight. It was all I knew.
But I forced myself to relax into his arms. That touch sent a strange thrill down the base of my spine, something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
There wasn’t a lot of romance in an abandoned house.
“Come on,” he said, gently pulling away. “Let’s get back.”
I nodded and couldn’t meet his gaze. I felt the sobs in my chest, the tears clutching up against my eyes, reading to force their way out. I held them at bay but only just, and if I opened my mouth to say something, I knew they’d come rushing out, and I’d have to explain to him how broken I was.
How shattered and wrong I’d become.
So we didn’t speak on the way out to his truck and I kept my eyes on the road the whole time, willing myself to calm down, trying to find the girl that I used to be before I ran away from my horrible life.
8
Cam
She kept to herself for a couple days and I didn’t push. Even though she took over my room and made herself at home, it was actually kind of nice having her around.
I hated cooking for one. It was the absolute worst. Since she came to stay, I had a reason to make a good breakfast, to put some effort into lunch, to go all out for dinner. She ate with a recklessness that I knew came from living on the street where the next meal wasn’t always guaranteed. She ate to keep herself alive, but the old pleasure would come back, or I hoped so anyway.
I also loved looking at her walking around my place. Just moving from one place to the next: the way she seemed to glide from couch to bedroom, or from the bathroom into the kitchen, or the graceful dance and arc of her arms and legs as she moved from stove to sink.
It was strange, watching her body in a way I hadn’t looked at anyone in a long time. Irene brought that out of me, made my senses more palpable. She seemed to present like each motion was fully considered before she made it.
I loved her long legs, her graceful neck, her lips, the way she dressed, the way she laughed—when I could get her to laugh, at least—and the way she sat with her feet curled up beneath her at the end of the couch like she wanted to put as much distance between us as possible.
Normally, I didn’t spend a lot of time at home. But since she came back into my life, that was the only thing I wanted to do.
“We’ve got errands today,” I said on the third day after my planning session with Dean.
“We?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure I have a date with Netflix.”
I snorted and waved a hand. “Forget about that. I need your opinion on something.”
She put her hands on her hips. She wore dark jeans with rips in the knees and an oversized button-down. She looked almost grunge, but the girl pulled it off flawlessly.
“Tell me what it is first, then maybe I’ll come with you,” she said.
“We’re meeting a girl,” I said. “Someone that used to work for the Healy family.”
She went very still and I studied her closely. I didn’t know what she thought about these girls yet, and I needed to see if she was on my side for this, and if she could handle it. The way she reacted at the Don’s place had me worried, and bringing her along was a risk—but I really did need her help.