by M. N. Forgy
I sit up and eye her. I could have done more, but I didn’t.
“Yeah, but when I left I didn’t look back, Journey. I should have tried to stay in your life more.”
“You tried. You called, texted, you even sent money on occasion. It—it’s not you. It’s me, I just—” Her eyes gloss with unshed tears, and I wish I could take all of her hurt and confusion away this second.
“You had nobody, and it’s like you’re trying to make up for that by seeking out attention from anyone that will show it to you.” I fill in the missing pieces, telling her exactly what is going on. No sugar coating it.
She picks at her dress mindlessly and I know I nailed the problem.
“Yeah, maybe,” she mutters.
“Have you thought about therapy?” It sucks, but it can help. I went on occasion at the college, it helped some, but only briefly.
“Ha! That costs money. Believe me I’ve looked. Drugs on the street are cheaper.”
And… I’m pretty sure Mom just rolled over in her grave.
“You know Dad would help you get into therapy, he himself went for a while.” I remember Dad going for an hour a day the week Mom died. I swear it made him angrier though.
She sits up, her eyebrows pinching forward so hard her face scrunches.
“Tate, do you know how much debt Dad is in? All the doctor bills from Mom, and treatment facilities, and that funeral… he’s about to lose the house!”
My stomach knots. “How do you know that?”
“I was cleaning up while he was in the hospital and found all the past due bills stashed in a drawer.”
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. “We can’t lose the house, it’s the only thing left we have to remind us of Mom.” When I was little Mom told me the story of how she got the house. Mom spotted it and knew it was the one, but it wasn’t even on the market. Dad found another house across town and right before Mom and Dad made an offer on the house across town, the one she wanted went for sale but was out of their budget. Mom sold her car, which she worked for everyday as a teenager, just to get the house. She said she knew it was the one to raise a family in. There were so many flaws, but her and Dad fixed them all over the years to make it our home.
“Davis?” A doctor in a white coat calls from the double doors. Journey and I both jump up and head toward her. Her black hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she’s got wrinkles under eyes from lack of sleep.
“Davis, that’s us,” I inform, reading her name tag. Dr. Angela.
“Right, your father has suffered a mild heart attack, he seems to be fine but we want to keep him and run some tests. Also I will be prescribing him some nitro pills just in case this should happen again—”
“Again, this will happen again?” Journey panics.
“Well, unfortunately after they’ve had one, they’re more susceptible to having another. It’s just for precaution at this point, after we run more tests we should know what we’re dealing with a little bit more,” Dr. Angela informs us kindly. My head hangs, I can’t lose another parent.
“Can we see him?” I ask, wanting to see him alive, my only comfort at this point.
“Yes, go ahead.” She smiles, and makes her way to the nurse station.
“Tate?” Turning, I find Camden. My body temperature instantly rises seeing him here. I can’t help but rake him from head to toe. His hair is wet from a fresh shower. He’s wearing a fitted blue shirt and dark jeans with a brown belt. You can’t even tell he’s been in a fight, unless you look at his knuckles. They’re bruised with fresh cuts. “I saw them wheel your dad into the back of the ambulance. Is he okay?” His forehead wrinkles in worry and I realize he didn’t even know why I was fighting Scotty in the first place.
“Go ahead, I’ll be right in,” I instruct Journey.
Turning, I step closer to Camden so everyone in the waiting room doesn’t hear our business.
“Yeah, he had a heart attack. Scotty punched him in the chest, and I just… lost it on him.” I close my eyes, replaying everything in a blink of an eye.
“Good thing I didn’t know that, I’m not sure Scotty would be breathing right now,” Camden informs casually as he slips his hands into his jean pockets.
My chest constricts as I fall in love with Camden all over again. His need to protect my family the most romantic thing ever.
“Well, the doctor just said he’d be fine.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
Camden reaches for my face, his fingers trailing under my left eye. His touch leaves behind a blazing trail of desire, and I hold my breath.
“You’re going to have a black eye, you should put some ice on that.” His jaw ticks, as his eyes harden. He drops his hand and I finally breathe. The way just one touch from him affects me bewilders me. My body has never responded to anything or anyone like it does with Camden.
“My first black eye, I guess I can say I’m well on my way to the pros, huh?” I try to make light of the situation, but my eye really does freaking hurt now that he points it out. Placing his hands in his pockets, he looks the other way. He’s not seeing the humor in it.
“Hey, Dad wants to see you,” Journey grabs my attention from the double doors.
Looking back at Camden I ask, “Do you want to see him?”
He glances down at his feet. “No, you have your time with him I just… I just wanted to check on you.” He doesn’t make eye contact when he says it, but his words hit me in all the right places. I feel fuzzy, and can’t help but smile.
“You wanted to check on me?” I ask, looking up under my lashes.
He smirks, knowing what I’m getting at. “Yeah, I did.”
My cheeks warm and my heart races.
“Visiting hours end soon Tate, come on,” Journey whines from behind me. I want to stay and see what is going on in Camden’s mind, but I really want to see my dad. Feeling conflicted, I shuffle my feet awkwardly.
“You go, I’ll catch you later,” Camden offers, ending my internal battle.
Camden rubs at the back of his neck nervously and walks off.
I exhale a long breath, watching him go. Even from the back he’s good looking.
Striding down the hallway to Dad’s room, I can’t help but replay the way Camden told Scotty I was his.
The hope that we might be together again is trying to take root in my soul again. Maybe tonight was a turning point for us, maybe he forgives me.
Opening the door, I find my dad is bossing nurses around.
“I said I don’t need to be in here goddamn it! I can’t afford to be in here!” Dad rants, trying to pull wires from his chest.
“Dad?” I knock on the door. He stills, dropping the wires on the bed. His eyes pop to mine, and his face lightens from its pinched state.
The nurses reattach the wires to his chest that he obviously just yanked from himself, and Dad rolls his eyes at her.
“Mr. Davis, you have to leave these on, please.” The redheaded nurse pleads for my dad to behave.
“Dad, let her do her job,” I chuckle.
“Journey, do you mind giving me and your sister a minute?” Dad asks. Looking over my shoulder I find her leaning against the door jamb.
“I’ll just wait outside,” Journey informs, stepping out.
Taking a seat in the vinyl chair next to Dad, he rubs at his head in deep thought. It smells like latex and lemon in here.
“You okay? Do you need anything?” I question, trying to fill the awkward silence.
“I’m fine, stop fussing over me. That kid is lucky I didn’t put a beating on him.” Dad shakes his head, referring to Scotty, before looking at me for reinforcement.
“Oh, I know.” I smile, helping build his ego. Truth is, Dad is so out of shape now, I’m not sure he could have taken Scotty. It makes me feel sad, seeing how badly he’s let go of himself after I left. I knew he went downhill, but I didn’t know it was to this extent.
“Look, I am not good at this kind of thing, so I’m just going to s
ay it. I was wrong,” Dad blurts quickly.
“Wrong?” What is he going on about?
He pins me with sad eyes. “I blamed myself for your mother’s death, and I took that out on you. I pushed you to go to school because you look just like her Tate, I couldn’t stand to look at ya kid.” Tears fall from his eyes, and so much emotion balls itself in my chest that I lose it and start crying too. “I know I took more than your will to fight, I took Camden from you. If he can’t forgive you for leaving and see that it was me that willed you to go to LA… then he’s a fool.”
I still, not sure what to say to my dad. Scared if I say anything, he’ll retract his confession.
“Tonight, when that guy hit me, you took care of your old man. I realized right then that you have my blood in you, you’re a fighter through and through. Trying to forbid that was pointless, you can’t take the fight out of a Davis. You made me proud kid.”
I look away as it’s too much. I want to be angry, but I can’t. Mom’s death was hard on all of us. I changed. Everyone did. How could we not, she was the glue that kept us together and without her we fell apart.
A knock sounds at the door grabbing both of our attention.
“Visiting hours are over,” a short man wearing pink scrubs interrupts.
Standing, I wipe the tears from my cheeks, trying to gather myself.
“Put some peas on that eye, it’ll help the swelling,” Dad instructs, as he fidgets with the gadgets on his chest, trying to pull them off. I can see it now, I’m going to get a phone call that he got up and left in the middle of the night.
“Leave those on Dad, they need to monitor your heart,” my voice stern.
“Oh, they don’t know shit about shit,” he grumbles, and I have to bite my inner cheek to keep from laughing.
“I already lost one parent, let’s not make it two because you’re stubborn.” I raise a brow.
Dropping his hands from pulling on the wires, he eyes me heavily.
“You’re just like your damn momma, did I ever tell you that?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile.
“No, but it’s something I’d love to hear more often.”
***
Back at the house I head into my old bedroom. The idea of losing this place hurts. I grew up here and have so many memories of Mom here.
Sighing I plop on my bed looking my room over. With everything that has happened I might stay here, keep a closer eye on Dad. Pulling my phone out I text Chloe to let her know.
Hey, so Dad had a heart attack. -T
What? I’ll leave work now, I’m coming over. -C
He is fine and at the hospital for observation. -T
You sure? -C
It’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it later. I’m going to get my things and stay here though, keep an eye on things. -T
Okay, I’ll try and come over tomorrow? -C
Sounds good. -T
Stepping into my room it looks just like I left it. My hands slide against the wall where the paint is faded from an old poster. Glancing around the room my eyes land on the window, Camden’s house is right next door. The way he said I was his won’t stop replaying through my mind over and over again. How he came to check on me, all causing butterflies to swarm in my stomach. Climbing off the bed I head to the window and push the curtains aside. I try to lift the window and it resists, getting caught in the tracks from not being used in years. Wiggling it from side to side, it finally rises and I climb out.
Walking past Camden’s door I head right for his window. When we were kids we used each other’s windows instead of the front door. This way we didn’t have to stop and make idle chit chat with each other’s parents. We could get to one another quicker.
Reaching his window, it’s unlocked, so I push it up. Pulling myself onto the windowsill, the curtains brush against my face. Swiping them out of the way, I come face to face with Camden’s chiseled ass. It’s firm looking, and tanned to perfection. My body temperature rises as warmth spreads across my cheeks.
A peep escapes my mouth as I ogle him. Suddenly he turns, giving me an eyeful of his cock.
“Fuck!” he shouts surprised. He grabs his junk and I look the other way.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I’m not.
Looking out of the corner of my eye I watch as Camden grabs a pair of shorts from a cardboard box in the corner of the room. His long muscular legs slipping through them with ease.
“Kicking someone’s ass not enough for one night, you want to break and enter?” he smarts.
Pulling myself the rest of the way through, I roll my eyes.
“I wasn’t breaking and entering, I was just…” I don’t know what I was doing.
“I get it, old time’s sake?”
Peering through my hair I glance up at him as he ties the strings on his jersey shorts.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” I mutter, not sure what to say. I fidget with my hands nervously.
His eyes fall to my chest and my insides squeeze. Looking down I realize climbing through the window caused my shirt to pull down, exposing the tops of my breasts.
Quickly, I make right of my shirt, my aching nipples protesting the coverage.
“Don’t say thank you, and stop acting like that.” His brows pinch together as he sits on the bed.
“Like what?”
“Like something you’re not. You’re not shy and sure as hell not some priss so stop acting like it,” he jabs. “Did they teach you how to be a complete fake in LA?” My mouth pops open as anger rushes over me. This went downhill quickly.
“I could say the same about you, you’re so bitter and hateful. You’re not the Camden I remember. Was being so rich and famous that hard for you?” Ever since I laid eyes on him, he’s been hard and cold. Something’s happened since I’ve been away, I just don’t know what. It pains me to know I wasn’t here by his side when it happened either.
He chuckles, looking away as his hands slide through his hair. His eyes slip over to mine and become hooded as they fall to my chest once again.
“You’ve grown since I saw you last.” He changes the subject and my tits react on their own, my nipples hardening from the sudden attention.
“Yeah, you have too.” My eyes fall to his crotch.
He stands and his jersey shorts are tented at the front. It does things to me, he unwinds my sense of control. I bite my lip thinking about untying his pants and letting them fall to his ankles.
My breath catches in my throat as the dirty thoughts parade through my mind. It’s always been so easy around Camden. My attraction for him is so natural it’s unsettling sometimes. My body talks to his in a way I will never understand.
Stepping toward me he lowers his head, his eyes gleaming with primal need. I don’t know how to react to the sudden attention and step backwards until my back presses against the wall. My eyes fluttering as my lips part from my labored breath caused by his nearness.
Camden rests his hands right above my head, his face coming within inches of mine. His breath brushes against my lips seductively. Taking my gaze from his mouth I peer into his hooded ocean eyes.
“I want you,” I whisper, the words coming out on their own, so natural. As if I never left him. I panic, my heart stammering in my chest in anticipation of his reply.
His eyes widen as if he’s shocked to hear my admission. Quickly, he masks his surprise with an arrogant smirk. My stomach sinks knowing whatever he’s going to say next, I’m not going to like.
“After a fight I’m usually in need for a good fucking, Tate. I have a phone full of fuck buddies, should I add your number?”
Without a second thought, my hand collides with his face. Guilt for opening up to him rushes over me like a wave. That anger taking over my lustful state.
He steps back, his cheeks hollowed out with anger.
“I’m not some backup or second choice to your lonely evenings.” I fume. I thought we got somewhere tonight, I thought we finally made a connection. I
sigh, pinning him with angry eyes. I was very wrong.
He thumbs his chin as his eyes rake me from top to bottom.
“There’s the Tate I know,” his voice laced with sarcasm and it pisses me off. My heart and mind done with these damn games I slap him again and it ignites something between us. His jaw ticks and in one quick move he grasps me under the thighs, picking me up and slamming my back against the wall.
Out of instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist and my hands around his neck. Feeling him between my legs causes a rush of excitement to surge through me.
God he smells good. I look down at him and he stares back with hooded eyes. His nose holds a more crooked angle than I remember, but it makes him look more distinguished.
He gyrates his hips and the head of his dick rubs against my sex just right. I can’t help the parting of my mouth, and the wave of lust that flashes in my eyes.
He smiles knowingly and does it again. My fingers dig into his strong shoulder blades as he does it again and again. The thin material of my pants and his shorts causes me to feel every ridge of his cock.
Pressure blooms in my lower half, as we both begin to pant. His fingers strangling my hips as he shifts me up and down along his jersey covered shaft grinding me into a pleasure I don’t want to ever fade.
My nails dig into his bare shoulder blades. My body conflicted on what it should be feeling. Hurt, anger, or pleasure.
Impulsively, I circle myself on top of him wanting so much more not caring what is going on in my head as what is going on between my legs is much more important.
He continues to drive his cock against me, and my head bangs against the wall, my toes curling as the intense sensation of pleasure ripples up my legs and fires in-between my thighs.
I clench my eyes shut, and try with all my might to keep my composure. Not wanting to come yet. Especially like this.
He grunts, his hips jerking against mine and with the rugged sound vibrating within his chest, I moan loudly. Hearing him let go intensifies my release.