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“I’ve always planned to tell him. First, I was afraid to trust him. Then he started therapy, and I was searching the DSM diagnostic textbook. I, uh, wanted to see if Cam would follow through in therapy. Now, Jamie appeared. That tosses another wrench into the story. His own brother knows about the baby. It’s awkward now.”
“Stop making excuses, Willow. You can literally have everything you ever wanted. Open your friggen mouth. River’s locked up on an attempted murder charge. I googled it. That’s anywhere from five to ten years.” She springs to her feet. “Stop being selfish. Have Cam. Have the baby. Have everything! The only man I’ll ever love is going to rot in prison, and it’s all my fault!”
“Ta . . .” I groan as the tiny terror moves agilely toward the front door. “Hey, calm—”
The door slams. I lean against the wall next to it, pinching the bridge of my nose. After a few cleansing breaths, I open it again, and Jamie has a baffled look on his face. His shirt is slung over his shoulder.
“Tatum’s pissed,” he mumbles, peering over his shoulder to her retreating car.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You need a hug?” His eyes twinkle.
“She—”
“No, you, Willow.”
“No. I’m not in the mood.” My somber gaze flickers to my text messages. Camdyn didn’t invite me to therapy. “Jamie, I apologize. Can you squeeze me in tomorrow? I’m desperate to lie down.”
He looks totally crushed as I apologize profusely, pulling the door flush and locking me into my own nightmare. Tonight, I crave the constant reminder of why I’ve tortured my own heart. My mind still runs straight to Camdyn when I search for peace. My lips still push up in a stupid smile every morning he texts me. And I still haven’t felt at home . . . not since the last time I was wrapped in Camdyn fucking MacKenzie’s arms.
