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“Okay, then, go get ‘em, tiger.” Flick reached over and squeezed my hand, offering me a reassuring smile. I climbed out and walked up to the Chases’ door. The house was blanketed in darkness, no sign of life. Cameron’s truck was parked in the driveway, but his dad’s car was missing. I didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced back at Flick who gave me a thumbs up before pulling off and disappearing into the inky night.
“You can do this,” I whispered to myself. But as I went to knock, I realized the door was ajar. “Cameron?” Ducking inside, I was greeted with silence.
“Cameron?” Blood pounded between my ears. It was quiet, the place steeped in darkness. But the door had been open. “Hello?” I called out again only to be greeted with sound of my own heart beating wildly against my chest.
Slipping my hand into my pocket, I clutched my cell phone, just in case, as I moved further into the house. “Cameron?” It was a whisper-hiss this time. But the place seemed deserted. And then I heard it. A gentle murmur. Racing down the hallway, I burst into the kitchen and skidded to a halt. “Cameron?”
He was crumpled on the floor against one of the counters, his face buried in his hands. Slowly he lifted his eyes to me and what I saw there in his gray-blue eyes broke my heart. Cameron Chase, wide receiver for the Raiders, was in pieces. His eyes were red and swollen, void of their usual sparkle, and his fists were bloody and bruised.
“Cameron.” I dropped to my knees and scooted closer to him, taking his hands in mine, inspecting his injuries. “What did you do?”
“It doesn’t matter,” his voice cracked as he dropped his head back against the cabinet.
“These need cleaning, do you have a first aid kit?”
His eyes shuttered as he drew in a ragged breath that I felt all the way down to my soul. I wanted to comfort him, to wrap my arms around him and ask him what was wrong, but something held me back.
“Cameron, a first aid kit?” I said, distracting him, and myself.
“I, uh, yeah, there’s one in the cabinet over there.” He flicked his head, his eyes locking on mine. The intensity in his gaze almost too much to bear.
I found the first aid kit and hurried back to him, kneeling between his outstretched legs. “This might sting.” He hissed as I wiped the blood from his knuckles, the skin angry and shredded. “I hope the other guy came out worse.”
“I’m pretty sure the wall won,” he said flatly, and my stomach dipped.
“Okay, next one.” Silence descended over us as I continued to clean his wounds. Cameron didn’t speak; he didn’t need to—his pain swirled around us like an angry storm. When I was done, I set aside the first aid kit and gently brushed his jaw with my fingers. “Want to talk about it?” I asked quietly, letting my words settle between us.
“Talk?” he scoffed. “I’m not sure there’s anything to say anymore, Hailee.”
My chest constricted. “Try me,” I said with an air of defiance. Because right now, Cameron needed someone. And I wanted to be that person for him.
I wanted to take away his pain and make it my own.
Cameron
“What are you doing here, Hailee?” It was a shitty thing to say when she’d come after me, cleaned my busted knuckles and asked for nothing in return. But now she was asking, and I wasn’t sure I had answers.
Everything was falling apart around me. All week, I’d barely managed to stay afloat, to keep my head above water. And then tonight, on the field, something had snapped.
I’d snapped.
“I...” She wrung her hands together, her eyes darting everywhere but at me. She was nervous, it oozed from her, hitting me like a brick wall. “I was worried about you.” It came out softly as she finally settled her eyes on me. “You got hit and I didn’t know if... and then I saw you storm out of there and I realized I never asked you how your mom was, and I thought—”
“She has a brain tumor.” My chest tightened, the truth squeezing my heart like a vise. I sucked in, trying to get more air into my lungs. I hadn’t meant to spew the words but seeing Hailee rush into the kitchen, the concern shining in her eyes, it broke something in me. Or maybe it fixed something.
I didn’t know anything anymore.
“A brain tumor?” She paled. “Cameron, I’m so sorry.” Throwing her arms around me, Hailee pulled me into her embrace, and I went. I went so fucking easily I knew if anyone could see me they would think ‘what a pussy’. But I didn’t care. Ever since sitting opposite Mom and Dad five nights ago, as they tried to explain to me what was happening, I’d been walking around in a daze. Unable to process the truth, my new reality.
Mom wasn’t depressed, she had a tumor. For four years, we’d watch her lose herself to the mood swings, the highs and lows, and crippling lethargy. But it wasn’t her mind at all. It was some invader, a four-inch tumor compressing her frontal lobe.
Hailee’s hands rubbed my back as I clung to her, fighting the tears that had been stuck in my throat since Saturday. “Cameron,” her voice was quiet. “Look at me.” She gently pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length. “I’m here. Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do.”
The relief was immediate, crashing over me like an unstoppable tidal wave. All week I’d wanted to talk to Hailee, to confide in her. To just be with her. It had been like wading through quicksand every day being pulled further and further under, threatening to be drowned in my anger and grief and confusion.
I shouldn’t have been at school and I definitely shouldn’t have been on that football field tonight. But Mom and Dad had made me promise I would carry on as normal.
