Great and Precious Things

by Rebecca Yarros

  Which was probably what she was thinking about, considering the fact that she left me on read for a good two minutes. Wasn’t I turning out to be a needy little prick?

  I knew mine would have been yours.

  Maybe she thought I meant if I had been Sullivan, then my last words would have been about her. Not that I’d say them. There was a slight possibility…right?

  But what if she knew? What if my lack of self-control let her in on the secret I’d kept as long as I could remember? What if years of keeping my mouth shut had all been for nothing and now she hated me? Or worse, thought I was capable of acting on it? I wasn’t capable, and even if I was, the town wouldn’t accept it. She’d be miserable either way.

  “You okay?” Xander asked.

  “What?” My head shot up. “Yeah, why?”

  “You look…constipated.”

  My eyes narrowed a fraction, and he looked away. Then I almost dropped my phone when it alerted me to her text. Total Green Beret material here. Good thing I’d gotten out if I was going to turn into a jittery mess over a woman.

  Not just any woman, though.

  Willow: Thank you for updating me. I was worried about you.

  Willow: And your dad, of course.

  Willow: I’ll check on you later.

  Willow: Unless you don’t want me to.

  Willow: I’m putting my phone away now.

  I laughed, which earned me another odd look from Xander. At least I wasn’t the only one struggling. Not that I wanted to fluster her, but at least I wasn’t solo in the WTF department.

  Cam: Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Thank you for my omelet.

  Willow: You didn’t get to eat it.

  Cam: The thought meant more than the food.

  Three dots blinked for a few minutes, then stopped, but no other text message appeared. I would have traded a year of my life to know what she’d typed and deleted.

  …

  “Hey,” Walt called from the doorway in a whisper.

  I held up my finger, then checked to make sure Dad was still sleeping and crept past Xander’s outstretched legs from where he was passed out on Dad’s other side.

  “How are you doing?” Walter asked me once I made it into the hallway and shut the door.

  “About as well as you’d expect.” I ran my hands over my face. How was it only eight p.m.? It felt like it had been years since I’d woken up across from Willow.

  “Okay, then how is Art?”

  “He’s doing better than this morning. Probably needs another couple sessions in the hyperbaric chamber. Still hasn’t woken up yet, and he’s not capable of breathing on his own. There’s some serious lung damage they’re hoping to reverse.”

  “Not capable…” Walt’s face fell. “Did Xander put him on a ventilator?”

  “Yeah.”

  Walter’s eyes slammed shut, and his mouth flattened as he took a deep breath, then another.

  “It’s my fault, too,” I admitted.

  “What?” He visibly startled.

  “When I got to the house, I helped drag him out and told Xander to stop chest compressions because his heart was pumping. I told him he only needed rescue breaths.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “And you think that led to him being on life support?” he questioned.

  “I didn’t say anything to Xander until the paramedics already had Dad and were loading him on the chopper. I should have said something from the beginning.”

  We stepped apart as a medical team came through the hallway, and I saw Simon hovering near the waiting room down the hall. I offered a wave, and he sent one back.

  “It’s nice to see Simon,” I told Walt. The guy looked good. Happy. Just like his dad.

  “He wanted to give us a few minutes before ‘barging in,’ as he put it,” Walt explained, waving to his son. “It’s understandable that you told Xander how to save him. Understandable that you helped save him. It would be understandable if you were okay with that ventilator. That’s your father in there. No one is going to fault you for wanting him to live.” He slung a small duffel bag from his shoulder. “Your girl dropped this off and asked that I bring it for you. Sorry it took so long. Took Royal until this afternoon to get the power back up. I swear that system hasn’t been upgraded in the last fifty years. It’s a miracle we’re not all on nob and tube.”

  He handed the duffel over, and I took it, recognizing it as one of my lesser-used ones I’d stashed at the top of my closet.

  “She’s not my girl,” I muttered. “Thank you for bringing it to me.”

  “Willow Bradley has always been your girl, Camden. Doesn’t imply any romance.” He arched an eyebrow.

  “Right.” I swung the bag over my shoulder and unzipped it. She sent sneakers and a few sets of fresh clothes that varied from athletic gear to jeans to a pair of pressed khakis and dress shoes. I laughed as I brought out a Ziploc bag full of cookies.

  God, she’s amazing.

  “Yeah, she sure is. Said she owed you or something, since breakfast got ruined?”

  Shit, I’d said that out loud.

  There was a sparkle he couldn’t contain in his eye when I looked up. “I pulled her out of a snowdrift and took her to my house. It’s not like that.”

  “I never said it was,” he replied, outright smiling. “I’m also not as blind as the rest of the men in your family.” That stare turned pointed.

  “Should I be insulted?” I dropped the cookies into the duffel.

  “Hardly. You Daniels boys were always a little thick when it came to seeing things you didn’t want to. Your mama knew what was what, though. Especially when it came to the Bradley girl.”

  “Why would you—?”

  Chaos broke out behind me.

  “Help!” Xander shouted. I was through the door before he finished the word.

  Dad thrashed on the bed, his eyes open and wild, panic obvious in every line of his face. Xander was almost on top of him, struggling to keep his arms down.

  “Cam! Help, he’s trying to rip out the trach!” he shouted.

  “Get the doc!” I ordered Walt, then dropped the bag and ran to the other side of Dad. “Dad, stop,” I pleaded.

  He met my eyes, and his flared with recognition. Then he screamed, a distorted, horrifying, barely audible sound, around the tube that pushed his air.

  Seeing Xander losing, I pushed down on Dad’s biceps as he flailed, fighting the intubation and arching his neck.

  “I’m making it worse!”

  “Don’t stop! He’ll rip it out, and his lungs can’t handle it yet!” Xander argued.

  Dad slipped free and made contact with Xander’s chest, shoving him into the cabinet of medical supplies right behind him.

  The strength I’d always been so proud of had now become a liability in a way I’d never imagined.

  “Dad! Stop!” I shouted as he reached for the tracheotomy tube. God, he was going to have to go through it all again if he ripped it out. Xander would make them put it back in.

  I gripped his wrists in each hand and forced them to the side of his head as the medical team barreled in.

  The look in Dad’s eyes said it all. I was the enemy who had betrayed him, and in this moment, he was right. It didn’t matter if he was lucid in there or if he thought I was fifteen or twenty-eight—I was the bad guy here.

  My heart shredded and bled out with each attempt he made to break free, until orders were shouted and a nurse slipped something into his IV line.

  Xander came around to my side, since his was occupied by the medical team, and leaned over the bed rails. “Dad, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay,” he repeated in a calm tone.

  Dad looked at Xander, his eyes softening. Good—the drugs they gave him were taking effect.

  Then they came back to me, and a
ll the fires of hell were aimed in my direction until Dad lost consciousness, his body going limp beneath my hands.

  “It’s okay. He’s out,” the doc assured me.

  I let go of his wrists and blanched at the red marks I’d left on his skin.

  Xander reached around me and brought Dad’s arm back down to the restraint as the doc did the same on the other side.

  “I told you these were for his protection,” Dr. Taylor said sternly.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized for Xander, knowing full well that he’d been the one to undo the restraints. Most likely while I’d been with Walter.

  Xander remained silent.

  “Now, my shift is over and I’m going home. Do I need to worry?” Dr. Taylor asked me directly.

  “No, sir.”

  “I won’t ask you a third time. I’ll simply ban you.”

  “You won’t have to,” I promised.

  The doc stared me down pretty bravely for a guy I could end in about a heartbeat, then nodded and left, taking all but one nurse with him.

  “I’m sorry,” Xander said, running his hands over his hair. “I undid them, thinking he looked so uncomfortable, and after I finished the second one, I glanced up, and his eyes were open, and he started thrashing.”

  The nurse looked up from her chart but didn’t say anything.

  My chest rose in even breaths, at war with the raging thoughts that circled my brain. I’d just had to hold down my dad for the very thing he’d begged me not to do. I jeopardized what truce we had, assuming he was lucid, and once again was the devil to Xander’s perfection.

  “This is why he didn’t want this,” I said softly, menace bleeding into my words despite my attempts to chill. “That right there. Everything that just happened?” I put my hand on Xander’s chest and pushed lightly until he moved out of my way. “That’s on you.”

  I didn’t pause to comfort him or address his ashy appearance. Nope, I let him stew in the shit he’d caused.

  Never again would I be on the wrong side, no matter how legally right. Never again would I let myself get put into that kind of situation. Never again would I let Dad wake up in absolute terror and restraints.

  I grabbed my duffel and headed out to the hallway, where Walt waited with tears in his eyes.

  “You saw?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “I’m going to need Simon’s help.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Willow

  “You know, you could always move back to civilization and come into the office,” Matt Wilson cajoled over FaceTime as I walked down Gold Creek Drive, headed for Charity’s.

  “Yeah, I think not,” I declined with a smile. “Remember when we were at Rutgers and I told you I was going back to Alba and staying there?”

  He adjusted his tie and laughed. “I remember. You know Vaughn Holdings loved the graphics for the new campaign, right?”

  “I do remember hearing that. Good morning, Mrs. Dawson,” I said to Genevieve as she came down the sidewalk toward me.

  “Willow,” she replied, more venom than sugar. “We’re all just so excited to see the plans this week. Would be a shame if all that hoopla with Art got in the way, wouldn’t it?”

  I stilled, looking past Matt’s face to Genevieve’s… Wait, was she glowering at me? “I’m sorry, you mean his whole just-got-off-life-support hoopla?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’d better talk to your boyfriend, and that’s all I’m going to say. But if you think this town is going to sit around and watch poor Art get exploited by that boy, well, that’s not going to happen. I’ve said my piece.”

  “My boyfriend? Cam?” I guessed. “Because we’re not—”

  “Oh, don’t you play coy. You always were more loyal to those Daniels boys than your own family. But that’s all I’m going to say.” She disappeared into her jewelry store, leaving my mouth wide open.

  “So, was that really all she was going to say, or is she coming back for an encore?” Matt asked.

  “I have no idea. That’s Genevieve Dawson for you.” I noted several glares as I made my way down the street. What the hell was going on?

  “And that’s the town you want to live in? Seriously. Come to Denver. You don’t get views like this.” He turned the phone, showing the skyline of downtown Denver. “Come on, you deserve to sit through the meetings where clients rave about your work.”

  “This is home, Matt. Where I have my family and friends and views like this.” I turned my own camera, shooting him the snowcapped peaks against a crisp blue sky. “You take the credit. It’s never been about the applause for me.”

  “Or is it about the boyfriend?”

  The thought of Cam sent a rush of emotion tumbling through me like an uncoordinated circus. “No boyfriend. Look, I have to go. I just got to my sister’s place. Send me over the client’s wish list, and I’ll get started on that new design.”

  “You got it. Steer clear of the big-haired lady. We need you intact.”

  “Ha-ha.” I hung up with him as I walked into Mother Lode.

  Charity was at the tail end of a staff meeting, so I nodded to her and sat at a table. It had been a week since Art’s accident. He was off the ventilator and recovering, but I only knew that from a few of Cam’s text messages.

  I hadn’t seen him or heard his voice since he’d hopped on the snowmobile and taken off. I also hadn’t said a word about what happened between us. Not to Cam. Not to Thea. Not to Walt when he took me up to the mine, since Cam was on a weird schedule with Xander, both watching over their dad in shifts.

  His words were eating me alive.

  “What’s up?” Charity asked as the last of her staff filtered out.

  I looked at my sister and tried to find the words, but instead, I ended up doing a weird fish-out-of-water thing where basically I just opened and shut my mouth a bunch. Finally, I uttered one word: “Milkshake.”

  It was our oldest, most sacred ritual.

  “Camden Daniels,” she guessed with a sigh.

  “Basically.”

  “Well, I have Meredith opening, so I’m free. But you’re buying.” She took her coat off the rack.

  “You sure? I know how busy you get.”

  “You’re my sister. I’m sure. Besides, I owe you for this weekend. Rose’s costume looks amazing for the play. Now get off your butt before I make you start scrubbing tables.” She nodded, and I moved.

  We were seated in the back booth at Bigg’s, where Charity made sure no one could hear us, before I said a word.

  “Okay, so—”

  “Hold up.” Charity raised her finger, and sure enough, Tillie Halverson walked over to take our order.

  “Hey, Willow! Charity.” Tillie’s tone didn’t mince words.

  “It’s so nice to see you, Tillie!” Charity responded with an Oscar-worthy smile and nose wrinkle.

  “Hmmm,” Tillie responded, then took our order. “So is there any truth to the rumors about you and Cam?” she asked me outright once we were finished.

  “Rumors?” I asked after nearly sputtering my water all over the table.

  “Oh, that you two are hot and heavy, seeing that you’re his restoration girl?” Tillie sized me up with a smile.

  I had to be seeing things.

  “I’m not sure what you mean by hot and heavy, but yes, I’m helping him with the restorations. Cam and I have been friends since I was born, Tillie.”

  “Of course. Right. Stupid rumors. Especially when you’re Sullivan’s girl.” She flushed, the color reaching her cheeks as she looked at her notepad.

  “Except Sullivan’s dead.” Charity put my thoughts to words with a shrug. “So it really wouldn’t matter, would it?”

  “Right. Of course. So does that mean Cam’s…available?” She drew out that last word so long it may as well h
ave been its own sentence.

  “You could probably ask him,” I suggested. I was liking Tillie a whole lot less.

  “Right! Okay, I’ll have these right out!” She flounced away in her fifties skirt, her blond ponytail swishing in time with her hips.

  “Usually I worry about Tillie spitting in my food, but I think you may have usurped me in the hated-Bradley-girl hierarchy.”

  “Everyone is weird today.” I swirled my straw through my ice water.

  “Normal weird or Alba weird?” Charity asked.

  “Over-the-top Alba weird, and Genevieve Dawson was downright mean on the street.”

  “Okay, well, you’re using up your Milkshake on Genevieve Dawson. Start talking.” She stared me down.

  Calling Milkshake was never to be taken advantage of. It was only for the moments your sister, and only your sister, would do.

  I talked.

  I started at Cam’s arrival, pausing only when Tillie brought us our food. Then I continued.

  Charity didn’t say a single word, simply sat across from me, eating her burger and fries and sipping on a chocolate shake. There was no judgment in her eyes, like I would have gotten if I’d talked to Mom. No giddy excitement, like I would have received if I were talking to Thea.

  She just nodded every now and then, holding up a finger if anyone came close enough to listen, and that gave me the courage to empty it all out. The kiss. Sullivan’s death. All of it.

  There was a sacred understanding that we were a combination-free vault. Secrets went in. Nothing came out. We were uncrackable. And when one of us called a Milkshake, the other stopped whatever she was doing, no questions asked.

  We’d sipped on Bigg’s shakes on our parents’ deck the night Charity whispered that she was pregnant.

  “And then he said, ‘It was Mom’s name on his lips, when I knew mine would have been yours,’” I finished.

  The straw fell into her shake, but her mouth held the same shape as she stared at me.

  “Say something,” I urged.

  “He seriously said that? Not just all of it but that last sentence?”

  I nodded and took a drink of my salted caramel shake. “What do you think he meant? I’m thinking it has to be that if he had been in Sullivan’s place, right?” At least that was what I’d told myself just about every hour since he’d dropped that line on me. The rest of the story had been hard to hear, but not the earth-shattering confession he had tried to make it. I knew Cam could never have been responsible for Sullivan’s death.