Scars of my Past

by DC Renee

  “Uh … I think your logic is a little flawed.”

  “No way. He’ll push you away if he doesn’t think he’s good enough.”

  “Or if he truly doesn’t want to be with me,” I countered.

  “Nope. Just keep at it.”

  And so I did. With no freaking luck.

  I was going a bit stir-crazy at the lack of progress, but Amanda kept encouraging me, so I kept building our relationship.

  The insane thing was that I felt like we were getting closer. I know for me it was all a charade, but I had hoped it was real for him, and he wasn’t playing me. Sometimes, I’d catch him staring at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t figure it out. Those were the times I got shy, blushed, and tried to distract him. I didn’t need him figuring me out.

  “It’s because he likes you,” Amanda would say whenever I complained. “He doesn’t think you’re up to something; he’s intrigued. Just keep working your magic.”

  “For how long?”

  “However long it takes.”

  Spring Break was just around the corner, and I was excited to go see my parents. The minute they found out I was going to school at USC, they had tried to figure out how they could move closer. I think they secretly knew I didn’t want to go back “home” if I could avoid it. There were just too many bad memories there for me.

  In the middle of my first semester, my dad transferred to the San Francisco division of his company. It wasn’t exactly Southern California, but they figured it was better than being across the country. Just a short one-hour flight or a six-to-eight-hour drive, depending on traffic—something I’d learned was crazy in California.

  Everyone was buzzing around, talking about what they were going to do for Spring Break, but I hadn’t heard anything from Cam.

  So when I finally asked, I wasn’t sure why I was surprised when he said, “I’m just going to stay here.”

  “Why?” I asked, genuinely curious. I knew his mom had died when he was in high school, and I figured his dad was out of the picture, but surely, he had other family who wanted to see him. Friends, even? He had been so popular and so charming to everyone else but me. I knew he had people back home who missed him—he had to.

  “I don’t have anyone to go home to.”

  “Your dad?” I asked, finally prying a little. It wasn’t as if he knew I knew more about his history than he had ever shared.

  A look of pure grief passed over him, something so horrifying that it twisted his beautiful features, and I immediately felt bad for asking. “He died when I was little.”

  I didn’t fully get that. I always thought he had a dad throughout high school, and that he was gone, out of his life shortly after, but maybe things hadn’t been exactly as they had seemed. But I wondered if his grief was tied to the fact his dad had died when he was little or whatever trauma had come out of that death. I wouldn’t know since I didn’t have the courage to push.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

  “Any other family?” I asked, trying to be hopeful for him because as much as I hated him, I actually felt truly sorry for him at that moment.

  “Just me,” he said with a shrug.

  I didn’t know what possessed me to say it. I didn’t know how the words left my mouth before my brain even realized. I didn’t know if it was because I felt bad for him, or if deep down, I thought it might help us get closer so this whole thing could be over sooner. Whatever the reasons were, I found myself opening my mouth and saying, “Then you’re coming home with me.”

  I almost wished I could take them back the minute they were out there, but then the look of shock mixed with awe mixed with relief, and more importantly, mixed with hope on Cam’s face made me actually glad I’d said something.

  “I couldn’t,” he responded.

  “In case you didn’t notice, it wasn’t a question,” I replied with a smirk. It had actually been more of an announcement.

  “I didn’t realize you were so bossy,” he said with a smirk of his own.

  “Only when I intend to get my way.”

  I expected him to put up more of a fight, protest some, tell me he would be fine and didn’t want to impose, but he smiled wide and said, “Then who am I to stand in your way?”

  Part of me was relieved, part of me was shocked, and another part of me was freaking the fuck out.

  “Genius!” Amanda exclaimed when I told her.

  “More like a disaster!” I yelled.

  “How so?” she asked.

  “What if he makes the connection somehow?” I asked her. “What if he sees a picture of me and puts two and two together? Or if he finds out I’m really from West Virginia and not from San Francisco?”

  “He’s a guy,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “They’re clueless. You could tell him you lived right next door to him all your life and he’d never figure out who you were. And I’ve seen your house,” she said, referring to the weekend she had come home with me. “Nothing there would give it away. And your parents are super cool, so they won’t say anything to embarrass you, especially in front of a guy. They want you to go out and live more than I even do. So stop stressing. This is going to be epic. You have to keep me updated the entire time,” she said excitedly.

  I just hoped I would feel the same way she did in a few short days because whether I liked it or not, I was bringing a guy home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Past

  Cameron

  Ten years earlier …

  TOO MUCH HAPPENED way too soon. We had been living in West Virginia for only a month when I had more crap dumped on me.

  There was a time—when I first met Charles—when I would have been flattered, overjoyed, ecstatic even that he wanted to adopt me. I would have taken that as a sign he loved me, that he wanted to step into the role of father figure, but now, I knew better. Now, I knew that Charles didn’t do things out of love; he did things out of convenience, out of spite, and out of revenge. Sometimes, he did things because he cared about his reputation, but that sort of took a back seat to his three other main reasons.

  I knew Charles wanted to adopt me before my mom even told me. I had heard them fighting about it the night before.

  “I don’t want any more reminders of your dead fucking husband,” he screamed at my mom.

  “There are none,” my mom replied.

  “His son,” he spat.

  “What do you want me to do about that?”

  “Change his goddamn name at least,” Charles replied with disgust. He wouldn’t dare say get rid of me. I think that might have been the only way my mom would find herself and the courage to stand up to him—if he said to leave me behind. I also think he liked having me around if only to use as his verbal punching bag. My mom had the honor of being his physical one.

  I would have stepped in several times to take the beatings he bestowed upon her, but I knew he’d just hit her harder after he got done with me. So I gritted my teeth and kept on with life.

  “How do you propose that?” she asked.

  “Why the fuck is he a Dents still, huh?” he asked back.

  “I don’t understand the question,” she responded.

  “He’s a part of my family now. He’s been a part of my family for years. No more of that Dents crap. He’s a Haywood from now on.”

  “You’ll have to adopt him,” my mom pointed out.

  “Might as well. Been fucking raising him all this time.” He responded like I’d been a huge burden on him and he should get some sort of reward for it. I wasn’t one hundred percent certain why adopting me and forcing me to change my name to match his mattered to Charles, but then again, I’d never understand him.

  I lay awake all that night, trying to figure out what the hell I would do when my mom finally told me the next day. I thought of a million excuses, but in the end, when she told me they had big news, I smiled, told her it was a great idea, and kissed her cheek. All b
ecause I didn’t have the heart to break her any more than she already was. Even if that meant I was breaking myself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Present

  Genevieve

  MOST PARENTS WOULDN’T have been overjoyed at the prospect of their nineteen-year-old daughter bringing home a guy they hadn’t even heard about. My parents, however, thought it was fantastic.

  After my time in therapy, they encouraged me to go out, to have fun, and to live. I think they were afraid I would stay in my bubble protected from the outside world. They didn’t want that for me. They wanted me to live life, to enjoy everything about it, and never to feel like I needed to give up on it again.

  Even though I emphasized that Cameron was a friend and nothing more, I could tell they had the feeling I was dating him and just didn’t want to tell them. In their minds, this was a major step in the right direction. Allowing a guy to get close to erase all the bad memories of guys thanks to Tyler.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised when my parents rolled out the welcome mat as if Cam was a celebrity. I guess to them, he sort of was. The boy who got their little girl out of her shell. If they only knew the truth …

  “Nice to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Breitling,” he said as I ushered him inside.

  “Oh, please, call me Trish,” my mom said. “And this is Dan.”

  “Thank you so much for having me over this week.”

  “Our pleasure,” my mom replied. She was practically beaming. I needed to put a stop to that.

  “I’m sure Cam is tired from the trip.”

  “Nonsense,” my dad said. “It was an hour plane ride.” An hour plane ride where we spent brushing elbows the entire time. Every time that happened, I was both thrilled and nervous.

  “Let the boy get settled, Dan,” my mom chided.

  “Come on; I’ll show you to your room before they give you the third degree.”

  “Thanks for doing this,” Cam said with so much sincerity. I felt a tiny bit guilty about my ulterior motives even though they hadn’t technically governed the invitation, but still.

  “It’s really not a big deal,” I said with a shrug. I gave him a quick tour before leading him to the guest bedroom. “This is your room. I’ll let you settle in and whatnot. We’ll have dinner around six then I can show you the city.”

  “I’d like that. Thank you,” he said with a smile that warmed my heart. Why did Cam have to be Tyler?

  I’d like to say I made progress that week. And guess what? I did.

  I spent every day showing him around, showing him my favorite places. Sure, I hadn’t lived in San Francisco for long—only a couple of weekends here and there—but we had visited plenty of times when I was growing up. Whenever my dad had to come to this office for work, we went with him. He’d work all day while my mom and I would explore. San Francisco had been a great choice for a new home because it had already been like a second home.

  “I feel like I’m keeping you from your friends,” he said after a couple of days. How was I supposed to explain that I didn’t grow up in San Francisco, which meant I had no friends in the city?

  “They’re all away,” I explained. It was technically the truth. The few friends I had weren’t there, which meant they were away. I let him fill in the blank with “at college.”

  There were actually a couple of close calls that week. When my parents asked him where he was from, I know I turned pale. I hadn’t thought about that. If he told them where he was from, they’d tell him we were originally from there too. And then that would be bad … very bad.

  I held my breath, trying to come up with a quick excuse to cut him off when he replied. “I was born in Phoenix, Arizona.” I sighed loudly in relief. But I didn’t understand what he’d said. Why hadn’t he said he was from West Virginia—not that I was complaining, but I was curious. Maybe he had been born in Arizona, but that seemed like an odd answer. I couldn’t come out and ask him, though, because I’d give myself away.

  A few other times, I almost slipped up about being from West Virginia or mentioning our high school. And I had to stop my parents from saying something a few times. They’d stop and nod as if they understood. They didn’t, though. They thought my high school life was a touchy subject, and it truly was, but not to the point I’d cut them off from telling a story.

  All the while, though, it was just me and Cam hanging out, touring San Francisco and spending time with my family.

  “I love your parents,” he said one day while we watched TV in the living room after we found the fresh cookies with a note from my mom that read, “Enjoy, kids. Love, Mom.” My parents had gone out for the night. They claimed they were hanging out with friends, but I had a feeling they were trying to give Cam and me some alone time. Definitely not typical parents.

  “I’m pretty sure they love you too,” I replied. It was the truth, but when the words left my mouth, I saw some emotion sweep over Cam’s face. No, not just one emotion, but a whole slew of emotions. I saw anguish, despair, jealousy, wonderment, and longing. There were more, but I couldn’t name them.

  It stirred something inside me—those feelings of his. Before I knew what I was doing, I put my hand on his arm, the warmth of his skin searing through my palm. He looked at the spot where we were connected and then lifted his face to mine when I spoke.

  “But who could blame them,” I said, not trying to flirt but trying to comfort. “You’re courteous, respectful, and way too nice. I mean, come on, Cam, you’re making me look bad with all your helping out,” I said with a teasing tone. “You’re smart, fun, and funny, and you’re a charmer,” I added with a smirk. “I couldn’t see anyone not appreciating the person you are and loving you.”

  He did something then that I would have never anticipated. He put his hand over mine still on his arm. It wasn’t for comfort from his end. It was for strength. I was giving him strength through my touch.

  “This week has meant a lot to me, Genevieve,” he said as he looked directly into my eyes. “You didn’t have to invite me here, and you certainly didn’t have to insist I come, but you did. And then you made me remember what having a family who loves you and cares for you feels like. Thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for doing this. For showing me really good people are out there and for being one of them. Thank you, Gen,” he whispered. It was the first time he’d used that nickname. I should have bristled, but I didn’t. I felt a warm shiver down my spine as he continued to keep his hand covering mine, his eyes boring deep into mine.

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was struck dumb by his words, by the depth behind them. Did he really not understand this was what family was all about? I guess it made sense since he’d lost both his parents too young.

  I found myself lost in his unwavering gaze, light golden swirls prominent in his eyes, like little flecks of sunshine in all the darkness. I had lived through darkness. I had lived through darkness because of this very man, but at that moment, I didn’t care. All I saw were those tiny sparks of light.

  I wanted to reach over and grab him and pull him into my arms. No, I wanted him to do that. I wanted him to lean in and brush his lips against mine the way we had on the night of The Kiss.

  I know I leaned in against my own volition. And when I took a moment to realize just how close we’d come to each other, I knew he’d leaned in too. It was one of those Lifetime Movie scenes where a kiss was inevitable. Where it was just a matter of time before one or both people gave in.

  But just like in the movies, something always stops things from getting out of hand. The phone rang, breaking through our fog. The noise startled us apart, our hands no longer connected.

  It was the landline, and I didn’t bother picking up. No one really called the landline unless it was a telemarketer or if we couldn’t reach each other on our cell phones. My cell phone had been right beside me. If anyone was trying to reach me, they would have called that first. But either way, the spell was broken.

 
“I’m happy I could be there for you,” I told Cam because I felt like something needed to be said.

  “You have, Gen.” He repeated the nickname, and I didn’t mind. “You have,” he said again. We turned back to the TV but not before I heard him mumble, so quietly that I almost didn’t catch it. I knew he hadn’t meant for me to hear, but I heard the words nonetheless. “You’re my best friend, Gen. And I won’t lose you.”

  And that was when I decided I was done with my plan. I might have hated Tyler, but I wasn’t him. I wasn’t a bully. No more revenge.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Past

  Cameron

  Nine years earlier …

  IF I HAD ANY doubt that Charles hated me, I had none now. He had called me plenty of names, put me down in the worst ways, made me feel dumb more times than I could count, but he hadn’t ever actually said the words out loud.

  Right after we moved to West Virginia, my mom gave up on herself. It had been almost a year, and she was nowhere near the person she was before. When Charles hit her, she didn’t even flinch. When he said nasty things to her, she had no reaction. I would have thought she had simply built a tolerance to his abuse, but whenever he said mean things before, I’d at least see a flash of guilt across my mom’s face. I no longer saw that. I no longer saw any emotions from her.

  She still hugged me occasionally, she still told me she loved me often enough, and she still asked all the right questions, but there just were no true feelings behind it all. It was as if she was just going through the motions.

  I know that pissed Charles off. I wouldn’t say he loved my mom. Maybe he did for a very, very short time—if that. He cared about her in his own way, even if he caused most of her problems. Of course, he didn’t see it that way. He never blamed himself.

  I think he might have even gotten nastier with my mom just to get a reaction from her, but she never obliged.