by J. B. McGee
“I don’t need to know all that. He needs your help.”
“I’m not sure why everyone thinks just because I built their website that I’m obligated to help them forever with their tech support.”
She gives me a stern look. “This isn’t just anyone. This is Harry. Need I remind you he’s also the grandfather of Brody, your childhood best friend? Remember him?”
Hanging my head low, I shake my head. “Yeah. I know who he is.” Who they both are. They both remind me of Cammie, and why my stomach is rolling and my head feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it.
“Fix it.” She takes a step toward me. “And take a shower. You smell like stale beer. While you’re at it, turn your cell back on.” She kisses my cheek. “I’ll let myself out.”
I throw my hands in the air and smile, my back turned to her, as my eyes slowly drift up to the ceiling. “Of course you will.”
“Love you, Holden.”
“Love you, Mom.”
Walking to my shower, I turn the water on like a good five-year-old little boy who listens to everything his mother says to do, and push my sweats down before stepping out of them just as there’s banging on the door again.
Turning the shower off, I change my mind on being submissive to my mother. I think I’ll just smell like stale beer all day. Fuck it. Pulling the sweats back up, I stomp to the door like my ten-year-old self would have done when Mom told me I actually had chores to do instead of playing all the time. Turning the knob, I swing it open.
“What now?” I bark, rolling my eyes.
“Um,” she says.
My lids flip open and reveal the person in front of me. I lose all coherent thoughts as I take in the sight of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, though her face is pale and her hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head with little tendrils framing her face.
Focus, Holden.
Holden left, and now I’m all alone for the first time in my life. Is this what it felt like to be him all those years? Because I can’t stop the tears from falling no matter how hard I try. Rolling over, I hold one of the pillows and snuggle into the covers as much as I can. There’s no comfort in this bed. Alarms beep, doors slam, and the pungent combination of sterility along with sickness and urine invades my nostrils. Pulling my gown up, I wonder if Holden was close enough to me to transfer any of his scent, but there’s nothing there.
I wanted to scream for him to stop, not to walk away from me again, but I couldn’t. While my body is functional, my mind is in a haze. It’s almost like an out of body experience where life’s happening all around me. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to coordinate my mind to comprehend what’s happened today. It’s like I’m paralyzed.
Oliver says he’s not gay, that he didn’t cheat, and he wants me back. And hearing those words was enough to make me want to vomit. Not because I’d ever for a second go back to him. Being apart—being with Holden—made me see just how miserable I really was. That’s not how I want to spend the rest of my life. But what caused my stomach to revolt was wondering if I am really at fault for our break-up? Am I the cheater, the whore?
Who am I? Do I even know?
My head nods as the tears continue to seep out of my eyes and down my cheek. I know who I am, and I know what I want. I just don’t know if it’s possible.
A knock on the door startles me. Maybe Holden came back. Funny how something as simple as a tapping on the door can fill my gut with such hope and excitement. It also triggers that nagging pit that always seems to be the beginning of me violently vomiting.
“Come in,” I say, begging and hoping it’s not a nurse.
There’s a bouquet of daisies and hot pink roses in a square vase with a pink polka dot ribbon tied around it. They’re hiding his face, but the strut gives it all away. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
I sit up, sniffing and wiping the tears with the backs of my hands.
“Why are you crying?” Wells asks, his eyes the same color as mine filled with worry and his forehead wrinkled. He’s taller than Holden. Not quite as muscular. Looks like he’s lost the jacket to his suit, and his first few buttons to his shirt are undone under his loosened thin, black tie. “These are for you.”
“Thank you. Will you just put them over on that shelf?” I ask, pointing to the one closest to the wall with the television beside the huge window that has a spectacular view of the parking lot.
“Yeah. Why were you crying, Cam?”
“Lots of reasons. It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re here.”
He turns around and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I haven’t been answering your calls. I’ve been working pretty much nonstop trying to get things ready for this new project I’m working on. But I got your text and came right away. After I picked up the flowers, of course.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Cam.”
“Wait, what text?”
He arches a brow. “The one you sent me about an hour and a half ago. Wait. What’s wrong with you again? I thought you were vomiting blood. Were you in a wreck or something?” He tilts his head. “Is your head okay?”
I squint my eyes at him. “My head is fine. Are you sure the text was from me?”
“Seriously? Yeah.”
“Let me see it. I don’t believe you.”
He shrugs, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Whatever. Here.” Then he smirks. “Don’t read the ones from Ashley, Carrie, or…” He glances up at the ceiling, tapping his finger over his chin. “What was the other one’s name?”
“Such a manwhore.”
“Just like to keep my options open.” He winks. “And it’s not like they care because I had them all at the same time, so.”
Sticking my finger down my throat, I make a fake gagging sound. “Spare me the details unless you want your shirt to match Oliver’s. And will you hand me some of that Gatorade?”
Although I could throw up at any minute, especially after I pull up the text and read it.
Cammie: I started puking blood today. Was taken by ambulance to Magnolia Grove Memorial. I’m in room twenty-four-thirty-one. Please tell me your flesh and blood is just as important as your girlfriend was. My phone is dying. I hope to see you soon, Wells. I love you.
Glancing at the time combined with the reference to Violet, it’s clear who sent it. Exchanging my Gatorade for his phone, I hope drinking something will settle my stomach. I’m not exactly sure what went down with Holden and Wells, but I’m thinking based off that text it had a lot to do with Violet—and maybe me. “I didn’t send that,” I say, taking a swig of the drink and immediately getting a small amount of relief before screwing the top back on, not wanting to push my luck.
“Who did then? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m pretty sure Holden sent it from my phone.”
“Fucking Masters.”
“Have you been avoiding me like Mom and Dad because of him? Tell me the truth, Wells.”
He starts to pace, running his hands through his messy hair. “I told you I’ve been busy. Mom mentioned Dad has gone off the fucking deep end about Holden.”
“And you said what?”
“He said I should tell Dad to lighten up. It’s been nine years and people change.” Mom. My mother is here. Everything becomes blurry as she walks over to me and wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“I was going to tell you everything that happened at the auction that Sunday, b-but Oliver and D-dad—”
“Shh. I saw Dr. Haskins.” Amie’s father is the GI that will be performing my procedure tomorrow. “He said he thinks you likely have an ulcer from stress.”
“I know,” I say, my vision clearing some as Wells comes back into view. He’s no longer pacing. Just standing against the wall, his ankles and arms crossed. The look of worry he had when he arrived is back. Slowly releasing Mom, I have to ask. “Is Dad coming?”
“I just texted him to meet me in your room.” She
pulls a cord from her purse. “Will this charger work for your phone? It’s all I had.”
Wait. I cock my head. The text Holden sent Wells didn’t say anything about me needing a charger. Maybe she just assumed. But how did she know I was even here? Glancing at Wells, I point. “Did you tell her I was here?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. It was probably the same person who told me.”
Mom looks between the two. “It was Holden.”
A grin starts to spread across my face, and I swear Wells’ lips are twitching before he rolls his eyes and turns his head. “What did he say?”
She gives Wells a stern look. “We’ll discuss what he said when your father arrives.”
Oh. Snap. Wells rubs his hands together. “Sounds so fun I can hardly wait. And now all the reasons I moved away come back to me.”
“Let the fun begin right now then. Because I don’t need Dad here to ask you a few questions of my own.”
“Like what?” He faces me again.
“Like whether you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I told you I was busy. That’s the truth. Masters tried to call me this morning. I did avoid his call.”
“Did he leave a message?”
He nods. “Wanted me to talk to Mom. I just don’t feel like it’s my place to intervene in your shit, though.”
Swallowing, my blood starts to boil, my stomach knots. “What about nine years ago? Did you feel like it wasn’t your place to intervene then?”
He closes his eyes for a second.
“Answer me. When Holden asked you to send me outside what did you say?”
“I think you probably already know the answer, Cam.”
Never raising my voice, doing my best to stay as calm as I can, I grit my teeth together. “So, you told Dad. And Dad called the cops. On Holden Masters, who had just lost his sister and father? Who. The. Fuck. Does. Something. Like. That?” I ask. “I don’t think you were staying out of my shit either time. You’re a coward.”
Mom’s head whips around to Wells. “What is she talking about?”
Wells hangs his head low, muttering something I can’t really decipher.
“Son?”
“Do you know that he told his parents Violet had an eating disorder when she really had fucking stomach cancer?” He grimaces. “I don’t need to remind you he punched Brody, or that he smashed Vi’s car, or that he broke your heart, or do I?”
Douche. I can’t bring myself to call him an asshole because it makes my heart ache for Holden. “Let the first to throw the stone…what’s that phrase again?”
“I’m sorry, Cam. It’s why I told Mom she needed to talk to Dad about giving Holden the benefit of the doubt.”
There’s a knock at the door before it opens, and my father walks in looking at Wells. “What’s going on?” he asks, shifting his gaze to Mom, never acknowledging me.
“Hi, Dad. Remember me? Your daughter. I’m alive, not so well.”
Wells snickers. I’m still mad at him, but that earned him a little brownie point.
“What’s going on is I’m being enlightened on your behavior for the past nine years,” Mom says.
“Oh, really?” He laughs. “By these two?”
“By Wells more than Cammie. You called the cops on Holden Masters after he lost his father?”
Dad’s head whips around to Wells. “What? Are you Holden’s little bitch now too?”
But Wells doesn’t do anything other than smirk. Doesn’t move an inch. “You’re such a bully, Dad. I didn’t see that back then, but it’s so obvious.”
Dad lets out a sarcastic laugh, but Mom interjects. “More than how you traumatized Holden, my concern is over how you’ve hurt our own children. You’ve made Holden sound like this horrible person who abandoned Cammie, but I’m beginning to see that’s not exactly how it went down.”
“He’s got the same temper his father had, and look at how that almost ended for Georgette.”
“He’s not his father,” Mom says.
“No. He’s the kid I could see eye fucking our daughter when she barely had clothes on in the home theater, the kid who broke Brody Keller’s nose—”
I laugh and throw my hands up. “First, the eye fucking was all more than welcome. If you hadn’t pulled me out of that room, I would have been only delighted to let him do more.”
“That’s precisely the problem. Christ,” he hisses. “You probably would have ended up pregnant.”
“Hmm.” I glance at Wells, thinking about how hot and heavy he and Violet were—how that was okay. “And we’ve already been through the entire list of all the ways Holden screwed up. He’s not perfect. He never professed to be. But you manipulated everything. And you clearly feel zero remorse about it.”
“And probably the very reason she’s in here right now, Rich,” Mom says. “I’m sure there’s more, but I’ve heard enough, and I think Cammie has too.”
He stares at her. He’s still yet to look at me.
“You told me a month ago you’d divorce me, cut off all my finances if I left you, if I chose my own child over you.”
My eyes bug out of my head, and Wells doesn’t act a bit surprised.
“I was saving up, waiting to be in a position to leave you, but I don’t even care now.”
He swallows. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh.” She throws her hands in the air. “You didn’t think I’d call you on it, Rich.”
“True story,” Wells says, and I point to my Gatorade while I watch my parents’ marriage destruct before my very eyes, my mother hammering my father. Shouldn’t it hurt? Shouldn’t it be surprising? Am I numb? No, because the pain in my stomach is legit.
Unscrewing the cap, I take a swig and screw it back on before giving it to Wells. I pat my bed. “The view’s better from here.”
He smirks before climbing in beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders and kissing my head. “I guess that was Holden who told me he loved me in the text?”
I nod. “Yep. I think he was just pretending to be me.”
“Do you? Love me?”
“You’re stupid, and what you did was wrong, but I do. You and Dad took away my choice. That wasn’t fair. And for the past month, I’ve felt like I’ve had to choose between my family and him. That’s wrong on so many levels.”
“I know that, Cam. I’m sorry. I really am.”
I snuggle into his side. “Too bad I can’t have popcorn. I’ve never seen Mom stand up to him quite the way she is right now.”
He lets out a small laugh. “Popcorn makes you fart and totally gives you the squirts.”
“Shut up.” I elbow him in the side. “Does not.”
“Do you love him?”
“Who, Dad?”
“No. Holden.”
“Did you love Violet?” I ask.
He glances at me. “Of course. Almost immediately.”
“One more question.”
“What’s that?”
“If you loved her almost immediately, why would you think Holden was unworthy, unlovable? They came from the same people.”
“So did Cain and Abel.”
“Touché. I do. Love him.”
“Then you have my blessing for what it’s worth.”
Wells ended up playing referee between my parents because things were getting a little too heated for the hospital, even though the two of them have perfected disagreeing without raising their voices. Hearing Wells had my back, was okay with my relationship with Holden, has me hopeful my future with my family will repair itself with time. It was better than what I’d had for the last month. I’m still not sure if he was being truthful about being so busy there was no time to talk, but I do know he’s busting his ass on various businesses. And it’s not unusual for us to go long periods without talking. It just was different this time with everything going on.
Before everyone left, Wells suggested we maybe try to do some family counseling. Knowing what happened with Holden and Dad’s feelings abou
t the Masters help me better understand why Wells has distanced himself. Mom told me before she left she gave me her blessing on my relationship with Holden, which brought me the most comfort. I’m still hurt that she didn’t reach out over the last month, didn’t make any effort to try to let me know she didn’t agree with Father. I don’t know what will happen with him—if he ever comes on board—but at least I’ll be keeping the two people who mean the most to me. Well, three, hopefully if Holden’s included. I know Father still hopes I’ll work things out with Oliver. And that reminds me, I told him I’d let him know how I’m doing. He stayed with me until they got me situated up here.
First and foremost, I have to thank Holden for doing what he did to bring my family back together, even if it was just for a few minutes and there was a load of fighting. At least we were able to have a civil conversation at the end, to agree to try. That’s something.
Dialing his number, it doesn’t even ring. It goes straight to voicemail. I don’t want to tell him what I have to say over a message, so I just hang up, feeling empty and more alone than I’ve felt all day.
Calling Oliver next, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, Cam. How are you?”
“Good. My parents and Wells just left.”
“They did?” he asks, his voice laced with surprise.
“Yeah.” I figure it’s probably not nice of me to rub salt in his wound by telling him Holden worked all that out for me. And it’s at this exact moment I have a revelation. “You’re pretty close with my parents. Even after we broke up you still speak to them, right?”
“Sure.”
“This is why we can’t be together. This is what I’ve been trying to explain to you. I hope you’ll understand now.”
“What are you talking about? Do they have you on drugs?”
I laugh thinking about Wells asking about my head. “No, my thoughts are clear as day.”
“Okay.”
“Oliver, you had the chance to call my parents and tell them I was in the hospital. That I had vomited blood all over your shirt. That I was probably going to be okay, but there was a teeny tiny chance I might not be. You heard the doctor say stress likely caused an ulcer to bleed in my stomach after I explained that I hadn’t spoken to my family in a month over a disagreement. A disagreement you’re at the center of.” I swallow back the metallic taste in my mouth. Please, God, let me get this out before it all starts spewing again. “And you didn’t. You didn’t think about what was best for me. You were only concerned about yourself, about winning me back like I’m a trophy. Because that’s all I’d be to you. A prize wife in the biggest league there is: Magnolia Grove.”