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Not loving Declan isn't even an option, but am Iinlove with him? Was I ever?
The question hits hard, and I can't respond. I can't respond to a question that I've been asking myself for far too long. Deep down, I know the answer, but I can't bring myself to admit it.
We stand in a silent stare-off.
You can cut the fucking tension in the room with a knife.
"Go home, Dean. Go home to your wife."
"Call your husband, Cam. Tell him you love him."
"Fuck you," I spit, my blood boiling with anger. No one has ever been able to work me up as much as Dean. All these years later, and he still is the only person who can spark such a reaction from me.
"Oh baby, I wish. I'd bend you over and fuck you so hard against your desk that you’d see stars, you’d be screaming my name for this entire building to hear. Then, I'd fuck you in front of that window and hope people watch what I'm doing to your body." My jaw drops at his words, warmth flooding my body, and I have to clamp my thighs together to prevent myself from dripping all over the floor.
Holy fuck. That was unexpected.
Wrong. So wrong.
Dean turns, his back facing me as he walks toward the door. "Things should've been different for us. They were supposed to be different." He may believe that, but I don't think I do. Things happened exactly how they were supposed to. If they were different, I never would've had Luca, and that's not a situation I ever want to think about.
Suddenly finding my voice, I clear my throat, hoping to shield the fact that he deeply affected me with his words. "Leave the past in the past. Now leave, Dean. As I've already said before, we'll be professional from here on out." He opens the door, walks out, and slams it so hard I'm surprised it doesn't fall off the hinges.
My hands shake, my heart aches, and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
I miss the way we were.
But most of all, I miss my best friend.
"How are you doing,Camille? Have you attended another group session?" Dr. Reynolds asks from her usual gray chair. I'm in her office for my weekly Tuesday morning meeting.
"Honestly, I've been better. I'm sleeping, but I'm restless. My mind doesn't shut off when I sleep, and I don't feel rested enough. Plus, I stopped attending those meetings."
"Let's revisit the meetings in a second. I want to talk about why you're not sleeping. Are you having the dreams again?"
I shake my head. "No, I haven't had any dreams. I've been thinking about Luca and Declan a lot and just can't sleep very well."
"Perhaps the fact that Declan will be returning home soon is why you're all worked up at night. Things will change when he gets home. You two haven't talked in a while, and now he's ready to return home. How do you feel about that?"
Honestly, I've tried not to think about it. I've been trying so hard not to think about him but always fail.
Soon, he'll be home, and we'll be under the same roof again.
"I don't know. I guess I'm nervous. It's been three months since we've been under the same roof, and I don't know how things will be." Declan has been someone who's been out of sight, out of mind. How will my life change once he's back in it?
"Do you worry that he'll do drugs again once he's back home?" That thought hadn't crossed my mind until recently, and now it's one of the many things I've been thinking about.
"Honestly, I don't know," I admit with a sigh, hoping for my own sanity that things will be better once Declan is released.
Thoughts of Declanand the past are still on my mind as I sit parked in front of the lighthouse later that night. The last time I was here was nine years ago. I was seventeen and getting ready to go off to college.
When Dean first left, I'd come here often to feel close to him, but eventually, I had to put it behind me and move on. I came here before moving to New York for a final goodbye.
This was once a place so special to me, a place where Dean and I would stay for hours and tell secrets and make promises in the dark. We promised each other forever without even understanding what that meant.
Honestly, I'm surprised this place is still standing and vacant nine years later. When I pulled up, there had been a gate in the driveway and a sign that read, No Trespassing, so I assumed someone must've bought it. But the gate wasn't locked, so I took it upon myself to open it and let my car through.
And now, here I sit in front of it. Too frozen to turn off my car and go inside.
