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Shit. As if I’m balancing on a tightrope, my arms flail. It’s too soon to discuss family—check. My gaze slips over Jamie. I climb up the steps and crawl into the tiny house at the top of the set.
In the tiny, pitch area, Jamie has to duck his head down. Grimacing, he settles next to me.
“You’re in pain?” I ask.
“Not physical.” His long legs fold, knees shoving toward his chest. “Before you, cutting relieved me.”
“After me?”
“You’re my reprieve, Willow. Even before we began the project, having you near was a relief.”
Stuttering on a breath, I concentrate on the tightrope. Then I utter a response that will either lead to a fissure in Jamie’s resolve or send me plummeting to my death. “But I picked Camdyn.”
Nodding, Jamie pulls a tiny razor from his pocket. My vision blurs into tiny facets of regret. With one semester of psych under my belt, I’m not helping Jamie or myself. He’s gonna kill my baby and me. Jesus, help me.
I suck in air at his next move. Jamie holds his wrist out, running the razor softly against his artery but not biting into the skin. “And Cam told you. You can’t love me now, huh? I knew he’d make me look like this untouchable thing justto keep you. That’s why I recorded you guys. Hours of footage at the lake house. I knew he’d fuck up. The way he dragged you into the bedroom after the bath. I’m disgusted to call him brother. I knew I had to save you.”
I swallow the imaginary vice clamped to my throat. The space between us seems endless as I smile and declare, “Who am I with, right now, Jamie? I love you, friend.”
He drops his wrist, hand gripping the blade. A stream of blood flows from his fist.
Whimpering in worry for Jamie, I take another measured step on the tightrope. “Camdyn loves you.”
“No.” He sits back, head kissing the wood. In the gloom, his moist face blanches. “If Cam loved me, he would’ve understood you’re broken. You were made for me, Willow. I’m broken. We are perfect.”
“That’s not true. I’m comforted by the fact that my mom is in heaven. We’re not meant to be broken forever, friend. You never completed therapy?”
“Nah. Guess I lied about that too.” He offers an empty laugh, squeezing the blade so tight his hand quivers.
“You attended my graduation. At the rate you’re going, I won’t be able to return the favor.”
“You called Cam . . .” he mutters, lethargic.
“This is about you and me, Jamie. My friend, I need you to survive.”
A spark of hope flickers into his wild, unhinged eyes. Running a hand over my belly, I croak. “We need you at your best.”
I take his hands, removing the razor from his palm. Sticky, hot blood stains my fingers. The second we touch, Jamie jerks a little as if electrocuted. Our fingers lace together, his palm tattered and leaking. I hold tight, trying to stave off more blood loss.
“I’m your friend, Jamie.” As I talk, the coldness of his skin cuts through my adrenaline-heated veins. “I love and support you. Dude, I want the best for you,like all the MacKenzies. Got that?”
Devastation glides across Jamie’s features. After a while, he curls up into a ball in the tiny area. His face in my lap, hot tears seep into my pajama shorts and stream down my legs. He talks, sharing how some guy he calls Uncle Nolan found him. Nolan brought his enemies to Clan MacKenzie. His sobs become incoherent as he growls how his abductors were tortured in unbelievable ways.
While he whimpers, my palm runs circles over his arm, and I feel another presence. Camdyn’s behind us. He rests his forehead on the wooden bars. His hand pushes between two slats, and our fingers tangle together. My other hand intertwines with Jamie’s. My heart crumbles into pieces. I feel Camdyn, smell him, but can’t see him. I pour all my attention into his little brother. Somehow, Jamie notices too, and he stirs. The back of my hand caresses across his cheek.
I add the final piece of the story. “Cam couldn’t save you, Jamie.”
“Willow,” Camdyn gasps, tone tortured. He’s crushing my fingers in the same manner, I had while trying to stop Jamie’s blood flow.
“Camdyn tried, Jamie. He couldn’t save you,” I repeat.
“He . . . tried. I know he did. Just didn’t want to believe it.” Jamie’s sobs break through the night, his body vibrating in my arms.
Because I love this kid like he’s my own brother, I ignore the tiredness seeping into the marrow of my bones. I’ll be empty, past the point of exhaustion soon, but not now. “Friend,” I say, “Jamie, you know where you have to go tonight?”
The surface of my skin tingles. I’d walked the tightrope and caught up with Jamie. Now, my only hope is that he strives for change.
“Jamie, you have to go,” I encourage him.
“Okay.” His breath brushes against my abdomen.
“You’re bleeding out, love. Let’s go.” My fingers disentangle from Camdyn’s. Jamie gets onto his knees and shifts toward the stairs, and then I stagger out of the crawl space.
Camdyn comes around and hugs his brother. “You good, bro?” Jamie sobs as Camdyn’s fingers clutch his head, and he kisses his forehead. “I love you, Jamie.”
Camdyn’s warm gaze falls onto me, and he helps me down the steps. As if attempting to catalog my injuries, his green-blue eyes caress me from head to toe. The moment stretches to infinity. My body tingles in self-awareness. God, I’m a hot mess. I’m physically and emotionally drained from the night. His strong arms wrap around me, and Camdyn tells me how I saved his brother.
