Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

“Not really,” he replied, but he sounded impersonal. As if he were answering an interview question. “She’d hit me sometimes when she was drunk, but that was because I was in the line of fire. She never hit me while sober. She said she loved me too much.”

“No, she didn’t!” The feeling of wanting to hit something was getting stronger by the minute. “How could she love you too much when she abused you? She—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

It doesn’t matter? “How can you say that?”

“It’s over. She can’t control my life any more, even if she tried.”

I seethed. “Where is she now?”

“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Now he smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re so angry for my sake.”

“If you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you be?”

He nodded. “I would.”

“Tell me the rest.”

“There was an abandoned car here before,” he started, gesturing at the place he’d been staring at. “Right there. In that exact spot. I see it in my head. It’s been years, but it’s still so clear in my head. It’s so fucking clear.”

There was only an open field there now with sparse dry grass. That car only existed in his memory now.

I knew what it was like to keep pain and anger inside—knew it so well. It would fester until all you felt was anger every damned day. It ruined everything, and it wouldn’t give anything good a chance.

He needed to talk about it—this pain he’d been keeping for a long time. It was time to let go of it, or at least start letting it go.

“Tell me about that day,” I said. “Did you manage to get out? Did your friend go back to see you at your house?”

“No,” he said.

Suddenly he looked tired. He crossed his arms and lowered his head.

“Sit down, Cam,” I said. He needed to get off his feet. He’d been working nonstop. I could tell. I could tell he had lost some weight. His cheekbones were sharper, his jaw more prominent. He said he ate a lot, and from what I’d seen in his cooler, he was right. But he was probably working a lot too, burning all his energy, not getting enough sleep. Worrying.

I sat on the dry grass, waiting for him to do the same. Eventually he did, just a little ways from me, as if he needed space to think, to gather his thoughts.

“He was supposed to come to my house,” he began after a moment. “We were going to eat first, maybe watch some TV, play some video games. Then go to the maze to finish the rest of the map. It was almost complete.”

The wind blew, whipping his dark curls against his forehead. I shivered.

“Raven was supposed to be gone that day. Another trip to an exotic resort. Whatever. She’d usually be gone for days. That’s why I asked Pete to meet me at my house.”

Gone for days. That meant he was often by himself. Just a little boy. Was it a wonder he closed himself off to the world? He’d said he knew I was attracted to him, but he never thought I cared for him. It made sense he would think that. My heart hurt.

“But she didn’t go. Her boyfriend broke up with her and she blew up. Just another one of her normal tantrums, I thought, but I realized that it was beginning to be a bad one. She got drunk, broke things in the house. She locked me up in a room down in the basement. She didn’t want me to leave. She hated being alone. She thought I wouldn’t be able to escape and no one would hear my screams if she locked me down there.”

I let the anger roll through me. There was no goddamn excuse for anyone, especially a mother, to do that to her child.

“She didn’t physically hurt me. Just locked me up,” he added. As if that would change what I thought about the whole thing. As if that made it okay.

It was still abuse in my book. A child shouldn’t be exposed to that kind of treatment or behavior from an adult who was supposed to protect him. I had my dad to protect me and Dylan. Cameron didn’t have anyone.

“Pete came to my house. They’d never met before. I could hear them. Raven was screaming at him, asking him things, cursing him. She said I wasn’t home, so I assumed he went straight to the maze. A few minutes later, I heard Raven leave. And then I escaped.”

Dread filled my limbs. I knew something bad was going to happen. I could hear it in his voice, the way it lowered and hardened.

“He was about to leave when I got to the maze. And I asked him to stay. I remember he was holding this green notebook. It was just something I had lying around my room. I gave that damned notebook to him and he took care of it. He said it was the very first present he’d gotten. He fucking cherished it as if it were priceless. Like it was…” His voice broke. He lowered his head.