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“You had been hurt so deeply. Were in so much pain. Physically and emotionally. I just couldn’t…” Tears actually brim her eyes. “I couldn’t live with myself if I added to that.”
I believe her. I’m not sure whether or not I can forgive her, at least not this instant, but I believe her reasoning. Because in the end, it’s selfish. Selfish reasons are usually the most honest.
I was pulled from the water, from death, and I assumed for these past few years that the filth and the grime of my soiled life—Drew; Chelsea; everything—was rinsed clean. I was a lotus plucked from the muddy water.
A new life. A fresh start.
Forgotten memories often make it easy to start over.
But Cam has lived with the knowledge of her betrayal all this time.
Maybe that’s punishment enough.
“I’m sorry,” Cam says again as I leave the patio.
“Me too.” I’m sorry for the friendship that I thought we once had, that will now be forever tarnished.
I walk a good distance before I pull up the Uber app and request a ride to the hotel. I need the time to decompress, to think. I was naive in my love for Drew; I know this. After Chelsea… I thought that was where my naivety ended.
Back then, blinded by love, I thought Drew and I were the only two people in the world who were experiencing what we were. I suppose that’s what first-time love makes you believe. Reality is a crushing low. How desperate was I to be loved? Genuinely loved? That I trusted him?
But Cam’s duplicity stings more than any betrayal on Drew’s part.
I snap the rubber band five times, counting aloud to drown out the obsessive thoughts raging inside my head.
Disgusted with myself, I trek across the street toward the sidewalk to wait for my ride, and that’s when I get that feeling. The sun is beating down on me, yet the cool prickle touches my skin, leaving cold sweat in its wake across the back of my neck.
I stop at the corner and peer around, heart thudding painfully in my chest. I touch the scars through the flimsy shirt, the one slashed scar that pangs with haunted accuracy any time I sense danger.
All in your mind.
I’m upset. Wounded. Phantom pain can be triggered by extreme emotion, even for those suffering limited emotional range. We bleed just the same.
But the push of fear grows strong
er, urging me farther back on the trail…and I whip my head around to see a figure lurch into a clutch of pine trees.
Animal, my mind pleads.
But it’s too large. Too human shaped.
Someone out for a walk.
Only I can feel their gaze on me, watching.
A blue Honda comes around the bend in the road and honks the horn. I jog to the car, fleeing Cam and the past and the truth that I now know.
Someone is following me.
19
Perfect Storm
Lakin: Now
I’m not a good liar. Let me rephrase: I’m not a good liar to other people. The lies we tell ourselves so that we can cope with our insignificant existence, to make us feel more meaningful in this life, aren’t the same as a tailored lie meant to deceive another person.
Rhys is a walking lie detector. Which means the lie I’ve prepared about visiting my parents sits sour on my tongue. I’m not sure if this is because I know I’ll most likely be caught, or whether the thought of lying to Rhys just feels…wrong.
