by Linda Kage
Cameron felt about as helpless as he'd ever felt in his entire life.
When Sienna came back after that, things were different. In the beginning, he'd been fresh and ready to make her laugh and pull her from the depths of her sadness. Now, he walked on eggshells, trying to act normal but failing pathetically. One night, after Cameron attempted to make love to her, but Sienna said she wasn't in the mood, so he lay beside her in the dark and rubbed her back.
"You'd be happier without me," Sienna murmured after a time.
He was quiet for a moment before answering. "I don't think so."
But Sienna insisted, "You would be."
From then on, it was a lost cause. Everything Cameron did to make Sienna smile was a hopeless endeavor. She'd just look at him as if she couldn't understand why he bothered.
The third and final time Sienna tried to kill herself, she finally succeeded. Making certain she wouldn't fail, she first doped herself up on so much medicine, she probably didn't even feel phase two, which consisted of hacking out parts of her wrists in chunks.
Cameron found her while she was sawing away on her second arm. He cried out and ran into the bathroom, jerking the blade from her hand to throw it against the wall. He had to repaint three times to get out that stain.
Sienna was already so weak, she merely melted against him. Cameron caught her and lifted her into his arms. He drove her to the hospital and carried her into the emergency room, both of them drenched in her blood. As nurses and doctors came hurrying over, he looked down at his wife's face. She looked bad. She looked dead.
"Why are you doing this?" he sobbed.
Sienna's eyes flittered open. "It…needs…to stop."
She tried to lift her hand toward his face, but she only got her bloody wrist lifted a few inches before she passed out. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and about four people helped Cameron lay her onto a stretcher. She was unconscious the last moment he saw her, her eyes open but lifeless.
Cameron sat in the waiting room and didn't bother to call anyone. They'd only get mad at him for running off and marrying a crazy woman. He worried about how long she was going to get stuck in an institution this time. Attempted suicide three times in one year did not look good. He hoped they wouldn't try to put her away forever. He didn't want his wife locked away in a nut house.
When the doctor eventually approached him, he got to his feet, expecting the usual. She's mentally unstable. We're going to have to keep her for observation, and she's going to be taken up to the top floor where the crazy people are kept.
But the doctor said none of that.
"I'm sorry, son," he choked out. "We lost her."
Cameron frowned in confusion. "You what?"
They'd lost her, as in, they didn't know what room they'd stuck her in, right? Then he wondered how in the world they could misplace Sienna. She would've been way too weak to go anywhere on her own.
But the doctor's eyes filled with sympathy. "Your wife's dead, Mr. Banks."
Cameron blinked and licked his lips.
"Mr. Banks?"
Cameron jerked back to the present and flew to his feet to stare bleakly at the doctor who'd worked on Olivia.
God, Olivia.
Not Olivia.
He thought she was different. He thought—he never would've guessed Olivia of all people would try to do this.
Holding his breath, Cameron waited for the news. Was she dead or were they just taking her to the mental ward? God, he needed a drink. He couldn't imagine a vivacious spitfire like Livy being dead.
Not Livy.
He didn't know what he'd do if something happened to Livy. Everything with her had been so different than it'd been with Sienna. It'd been better.
"Your wife is checking out at the desk if you want to meet her there, Mr. Banks," the doctor informed him.
Cameron stopped. He realized he'd been holding his breath and suddenly sucked in air. It only made him feel woozier. "She's alive?" he gasped.
The doctor frowned and eyed him strangely. "Of course, she's alive. I admit she lost enough blood to warrant a transfusion, but you got her here in plenty of time to prevent anything serious from happening."
Slumping back into the chair he'd been sitting on, Cam cradled his head in his hands and blew out a relieved breath. The intensity of it nearly made him pass out. He sat for a moment and concentrated on breathing.
She was alive. She was apparently okay. And no one in a white coat was coming to take her away.
He didn't understand, but he certainly wasn't going to question it. Olivia was okay. For now, that's all that mattered.
Blowing out a breath, Cameron pushed to his feet and gritted his teeth. He was more than grateful she was okay, but a new fear lodged itself in his abdomen as he moved toward the check out.
He'd married another suicide junkie.
If he didn't do something, it was going to be Sienna all over again. But for some reason, Cam knew it'd be more devastating to lose wife number two.
"I'm not going to do this again," he said quietly, staring down at his shaking hands. "I can't. Damn it. I won't."
Sixteen
Cameron was strangely quiet as he drove home. In the passenger seat, Olivia snuck quick glances his way. He ignored her, staring bleakly straight ahead. She wasn't sure what was going on with him. It wasn't normal for him to be this mute. His silence was almost scary in fact, because he was usually so open with what was on his mind.
Olivia realized she didn't like not knowing what he was thinking. Sensitive to his mood, she clamped her own mouth shut and closed her eyes, resting her face against the passenger side window. When they reached the house, he came around to her side as if to help her from the car, though Olivia had already opened the door and slid out.
He paused when he saw her taking care of herself. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned his back to her and started for the house. When she reached the entrance, he was on the phone.
Olivia had no idea who he was talking to; his voice was muted too low to hear. Slowly, she started for the sofa, wincing with each step she took. She was just settling herself into the plush cushions when he hung up.
Cameron ignored her and picked up the remote control to the television. He turned it on and commenced to pace behind the divan as he stared fixedly at the screen. Trying to watch him made her dizzy, so Olivia gave up and closed her eyes.
~ * ~
Something was wrong.
"Get over here now," Cam growled in Boston's ear. "And bring your briefcase."
Boston wasn't sure what had happened, but he hurried out the door as soon as his cousin disconnected. Once he reached Cam's place, he let himself inside the front door without knocking and found both Olivia and Cameron in the front room.
A relieved breath deflated from his lungs. By the tone in Cam's voice, he'd been so sure she'd left him.
But there she sat slumped on the couch with Cam pacing behind her, his hands on his hips. He sent Boston a dirty look as if to say, What took you so damn long?
"What happened?" Boston asked, coming to a stop when he saw Olivia's pale face and bandaged wrist
Cameron merely growled, "Start the annulment papers. Right now."
Boston paused. He glanced at Olivia in confusion. She looked about as shocked as he felt as she twisted around to gape up at Cameron with her mouth falling open. Boston shook his head as not to question anything. Setting his briefcase on an end table, he opened the lid and cleared his throat. "Um, okay. What terms do you want?"
Cameron snorted bitterly. "I don't give a rat's ass. Give her whatever she wants. Just get her the fuck out of my house."
Boston looked up at his friend's words. He glanced toward Olivia again. But she still looked confused, except now there was a load of hurt filling her features.
Boston let out a sigh and set down his papers. "What happened?"
Cameron sneered. "I'll tell you what happened." He jabbed his finger toward Olivia. "Little Mis
s Spoiled Princess here didn't get her way and couldn't have the speedy annulment she wanted, so she came home and tried to slice her wrist open with a broken piece of glass."
"What!" Boston and Olivia gasped together. Boston looked at her, and she turned to stare at him as if she assumed he was behind her husband's announcement. He could only shrug and shake his head.
She swiveled back to Cameron. "What in the world are you talking about?"
Cam finally gave her his attention, cutting his eyes toward her with a killer glare. "If you want to overdose on pills, cut open your wrists—do whatever to try to commit suicide—I don't care. Just don't ever do it on my time again."
Olivia got to her feet, staring at him as if she wanted to slug him, which Boston had to guess she really did.
"For your information," she snarled, straightening her shoulders righteously and lifting her chin. "I wasn't trying to commit suicide. I was getting some aspirin because you were giving me a headache. When I slammed the medicine cabinet because you had pissed me off, the mirror shattered. Okay? And a piece of glass landed in my arm."
She shivered as she spoke the last bit and covered the bandage with her hand.
"I don't believe you," Cameron said, though he looked less angry. "When I walked into that bathroom, you had the glass in your hand."
"Because I'd just pulled it out, bonehead!" Olivia snapped. "Suicide is for weak, stupid people that don't care about anyone but themselves. Besides, if I had really wanted to die today, I certainly wouldn't have cut my wrists because I can't stand the sight of blood. And I wouldn't have overdosed because it takes too long and usually doesn't work anyway. I'd have just stuck a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. Like my father did."
Turning on her heel, she stormed from the room. Cameron looked devastated as he stared after her.
"Think she's telling the truth?" Boston asked a second later.
His buddy looked miserable. "Probably." He slid into a chair and groaned out a curse.
Boston sighed. "Did you know that about her dad?"
Cameron glanced up, his eyes rimmed with red. "No."
Boston snapped his briefcase closed and picked it up. He sent Cam a sympathetic smile. "We'll do this later," he murmured and walked out.
~ * ~
Cameron ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes as he let his head fall back against the cushions of the chair. "Bombed that one," he muttered aloud.
Shame filled him as he recalled all the accusations he'd slung Olivia's way. He couldn't believe himself. He'd never met anyone less likely to hurt herself than Olivia. There was no way she'd attempt suicide.
What had he been thinking?
He hadn't. That was the problem. He'd stepped into the bathroom, and the past had swamped him. It felt like Sienna all over again, so he assumed the worst.
His first wife had poisoned him. She'd clogged his mind, and now, all he could think of people was how mentally unstable they were and how much they could take before tipping themselves over the edge. He'd never wondered such things before Sienna had entered his life.
Cameron knew he should go apologize. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too ashamed.
And what was all that stuff about her father? Had Olivia's dad done himself in? It surprised Cameron he had that kind of past in common with her. Not many people had such close connections with suicide victims. Her father and his first wife. That fact seemed to bind them together in such a way he was left shaken by the knowledge. He suddenly saw her in a different light.
The blonde cupcake he'd first met, who had seemed like nothing more than a spoiled little princess, now had a past. A dark, depressing past. She hadn't been pampered her whole life by two adoring parents who gave her whatever she demanded. No, she'd ended up with Vivian the bitch for a mother and a father that had to have been at least a little like Sienna.
Cameron shivered. Needing relief from the thoughts racing through his head, he staggered to his feet and made his way to the bookshelves lining the wall. Pushing aside the largest volume of books, he reached between the two and extracted a bottle. Damn, he craved that first biting swallow.
But instead of opening it, he closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. Just as he carried the alcohol to bathroom and poured the entire contents down the toilet, the doorbell rang.
It was probably Boston. Kincaid was no doubt worried how things were going. He was annoyingly thoughtful that way. It'd been especially irritating right after Sienna had died, when Cam had wanted to be left alone the most. Yet, Boston stuck by his side through it all.
"Look, your concern is touching, Kincaid," Cameron muttered, yanking open the door. "But—"
His words died in his throat as he found himself face to face with Vivian Helbrock-Donovan-Roark. He blinked to clear his vision.
Vivian's face filled with hatred, and her lip curled into a sneer. "I've come for my daughter," she stated in a stony, serious voice.
For some reason, a bolt of panic roared through Cameron. No! He didn't want anyone to take Livy.
He needed her.
But then reality returned, and he realized Olivia wouldn't go anywhere with her mother.
Relaxing, he sent Vivian a sympathetic look. "Sorry, honey. But you can't have her."
"Look, you unethical little prick. You might have screwed me in that underhanded business dealing but—"
"Screwed you?" Cameron broke in incredulously. "I merely backed off my bid when I discovered my mother-in-law was the competition."
"—but you can't have my daughter. I want her back. Now. And you were not thinking any such thing. You knew what would happen to me if I won that bid, you cocksucker. It'll take me five years to regain all the capital I lost."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have tried to undercut me," Cameron murmured, folding his arms over his chest and giving Vivian a steely look. Man, but he'd love to knock the wind out of her sails. It was too bad she wasn't a man; he could've just punched her in the nose.
For a moment, Vivian's face turned purple and Cameron wondered if she was going to keel over. But the older woman seemed to calm herself. She looked expectantly over Cameron's shoulder into the house. "Where is she?"
"Why don't we make a deal?" Cameron said instead of answering, aware Vivian had yet to call her daughter by her name. Something was clearly missing in the woman. Like a heart.
No way in hell did he want her anywhere near Livy, but, "If you let her remove all her possessions from your house, I'll let you come visit her whenever she wants, and I'll call a truce on the business level. I'll stop screwing you over like you tried to do to me."
"I'm not making any deals with you, Banks," Vivian huffed. "Now, where's—"
"Mother?" Olivia said in a startled voice from inside the living room.
Cameron spun around just as Vivian charged past him into the house.
"Olivia!" she cried out in relief.
Okay, so the lady remembered her name after all. So what? That didn't mean—
Cameron briefly thought the old broad was going to throw herself at her daughter's feet and wrap her arms around Olivia's ankles, kissing the very ground she stood upon. Olivia looked like she was thinking similar thoughts because she skipped a nervous step back.
"Olivia," Vivian repeated, sending her a desperate smile as she reached for her daughter's arm. "You're coming home with me. Right now."
Olivia pulled her hand away before her mother could catch her. "What?" She cast an accusing look Cameron's way as if this were all his doing. Then her gaze veered back to Vivian. "No. I don't think so."
"But, Olivia. You have to. I want—no, I need—you back, darling."
Darling? Cameron watched Olivia's face as she blinked rapidly, clearly bowled over by the term as well.
Vivian sent her a tenuous, begging smile. Her lips quivered; Cameron almost swore he saw a tear in the bitch's eye. "But you're my little hostess, sweetheart. I can't—nothing's been the same since you left." Then, lif
ting the back of her hand to her mouth, she sniffed, like she really was crying. "Nolan's dead."
Olivia stumbled back a step, her eyes growing large. "Dead?" she repeated. "How? When?"
"We buried him yesterday. It was a massive stroke. He…" Vivian's voice choked; she paused a dramatic moment. "Too many clogged arteries."
"I-I'm sorry," Olivia said softly.
Cameron shifted uncomfortably as he watched the two women. He suddenly felt crappy for being rude as soon as he'd opened the door. He wasn't sure if he should offer his condolences. Hell, he wasn't even sure who Nolan was, though he suspected it was Vivian's husband, the same old geezer he'd kicked out of Olivia's hotel room in Chicago, because Vivian continued with, "I have no one now. I need you."