I was crying so hard I couldn’t see straight, my eyes locked on the flashing sign that promised help.
I didn’t notice the car speeding in from the right until the last second.
In a desperate move, I slammed the gas and swerved left.
But the car slammed into the concrete barrier.
Then everything went still.
No movement. No sound.
Just... stillness.
CAMERON
My phone rang and rang, pulling me from a deep sleep.
I lifted my head to check if it had woken Harper, but she was still fast asleep.
Turning toward the nightstand, I grabbed my phone while it was still charging.
It was two a.m.
I thought it might be the hospital, but then I saw Sloane’s name on the screen.
I answered immediately, and a cold dread washed over me for reasons I couldn’t explain.
“Sloane?” I said into the phone. “What’s wrong?”
There was silence, but I could hear her breathing.
“Sloane? Talk to me. What’s wrong?” I asked again, anxiety tightening in my chest as I sat up in bed.
Then she spoke.
“Cam...” Her voice was barely there, followed by a long, shaky exhale. “I need help. I think I need help.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cameron
Isat in the waiting room of the clinic while Sloane was inside meeting a therapist for the first time.
She’d asked for help and counseling.
After all these years.
But I hadn’t realized that her history was this bad. I never knew.
I knew she didn’t get along with her parents. It constantly strained her whenever we saw them. She only agreed to visit once every two months, and even that felt like a negotiation.
But I didn’t know the wounds ran that deep, that the damage cut that harsh.
My mind went back to that night, three days ago, when she called for help.
Each time I remembered it, a shiver ran through me.
How I jumped out of bed and ran to Mom’s room, banging on her door, asking where she kept the spare keys. I grabbed them and drove straight there without a second thought.
