by Bree Cariad
Alex stood up, walked around the table and grasped her elbow, guiding her out of the room and into his study. After shutting the door, he took a seat in his chair and pulled her forward, looking her straight in the eye. “He’s right. You got sick this morning.”
She wanted to deny it, but there was also a relief knowing that they knew. “Last night,” she whispered.
“Did you do it on purpose?”
“No. I was just… so upset. And when I get that angry, I panic and throw up.”
“What made you upset? Your brother’s anger?”
Her lips quivered. “Drake, Mom, you, Xan, why I can’t get this right, how I thought I was doing okay and now I’m not.” Tears sprang to her eyes and she started to sob as one of her deepest fears sprang forth. “Daddy, I think I’m going crazy.”
In one movement she went from being on her feet to being held in his tight arms. “You’re not crazy,” he said firmly in her ears. “You’re a teenage girl who’s dealing with uncertainty. That’s all this is, Camille. I know it’s painful, but you need to tell us. Your mother and I can help. Drake yearns to help. When you were so sick this last July, your elder brother had to keep him busy because all Drake wanted to do was to go find Damian and beat him up.” Something akin to a giggle and a sob escaped her throat and he rocked her back and forth. “We’re gonna change some things, dearest daughter. For one thing? Every night, you and I are going to meet in here and talk about your day.” Lifting her tear-stained face to his, she shook her head.
“Why?”
“So you can’t drive yourself crazy with worrying thoughts that don’t serve you. If I have to? We’ll meet ten times a day. If you’re feeling off, we’ll call that Dr. Lila Strotham you spoke to at the hospital and get you appointments. Camille,” he said, looking right into her eyes again. “We’re never giving up on you. I’m going to make sure you know it. And if you ever give up on yourself again, lean on us. Because we know you can make it.”
Bursting into tears, she leaned on him as he rocked her to and fro. Grasping his upper arms, she continued to cry. “Daddy,” she begged through her sobs.
“Yes, honey?”
“I need…”
“What do you need? Ask and I’ll do what I can do get it. You’re my little girl,” he said gruffly. “I’d do anything for you.”
She opened her mouth twice before she could say it and when she did, it came out fast. “I need a spanking. A hard one. Last night’s didn’t do what I needed it to do. Please.” She pressed her face into his chest and continued to sob. His arms tightened around her to where she almost couldn’t breathe, but it felt too good for her to care.
“What needs to come out?” he asked, understanding.
“I don’t know. But it’s ugly and scary and makes me throw up.” Unleashing whatever was inside terrified her, but right now she would do anything not to hear that accusation from her brother again.
Nodding, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “All right. Get the paddle.”
She reached over for it and turned back expecting to lean against the chair arm. Instead, her father was sitting in his chair holding his arm out. “Come on.” He took her hand and guided her over to his right side and gently pulled her over his lap. “Hold on to the chair, Camille. We’re going to knock loose whatever this is.”
Nodding her head, even as part of her wanted to protect her backside, she grasped the chair leg and held on. The first crack made her cry out. Usually her father didn’t hit this hard. The next one was even worse. The heat built up quickly, added to what had fizzled overnight. In no time, her legs kicked and twisted as her body fought against each blow even as she knew she needed this. The tension in her chest told her it was working. With each swat, the pain intensified and the tension doubled. At one point, she wasn’t sure what hurt worse, the paddle making mincemeat of her rear end, or the extreme pain threatening to explode within her. When whatever it was came out, would she be able to handle it?
And then the memory burst.
She screamed so loud at what she had been hiding from herself that her father jolted and stopped and she shook her head. “Don’t stop! It’s working!” His hand took a firm hold on her waist and the paddle came down again. And again. On the fourth hard swing, the words spewed forth.
“He promised, Daddy! He promised to marry me! Damian told me we would court and marry and that everything would be great,” she shrieked. “He would describe the house we’d live in, our three kids, him coming home from work while I made dinner…” Her sobs took over and she realized she was no longer over her father’s lap but held tightly in his arms with her flaming backside somewhere between his thighs and the side of the chair. “He promised,” she cried. “And now I’m dirty.”
And that was the crux of the matter and something she had tried to convince herself hadn’t happened. But it had. Damian had made so many promises and broke each one. She didn’t even want him anymore. He would probably had created those three kids and left her high and dry. But as it was, he had left her unclean and she had somehow forgotten that part.
“What are you talking about?” her father asked gently.
“H-he kissed me,” she admitted in a tiny voice. Everyone knew you couldn’t kiss anyone you weren’t courting. She had allowed it, wanted it from the man she loved. And Damian had promised her they would marry. And now she was damaged goods.
“He kissed my daughter without my permission?”
She nodded.
“My dearest girl, that wasn’t your fault and while I would have preferred he didn’t talk you into that, it isn’t exactly a capital offense, is it?”
“But…”
“Yes, we want you to keep anything physical to the one you court, but there are so many reasons for that. The one I’m going to focus on right now is this. Physical intimacy, any physical intimacy draws more emotion. He kissed you, which just made you love him more. Honey, you’ve been broken since he left and now I understand why. Tell me, did he do anything else?” Her father’s tone was calm, but she had the feeling there was tension in there.
“No. Well, he held my hand a few times.” And he had tried to feel her up once, but she had shrieked and given him an absolute no on that one. That kind of thing was for marriage only.
“And that’s all?”
She nodded.
He pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head. “You’re not dirty, Camille. Kissing isn’t a sin. I’m just glad he didn’t talk you into something else.”
“Me too.” She leaned against his chest for a few moments before continuing. “I believed him, Daddy. Why was I so stupid?”
“You weren’t stupid, dearest girl,” he said gruffly. “We all believed in him at the beginning except for your older brother. Alexander’s the only one who saw him for the kind of person he was. Damian was just really good at lies.”
And yet, a year ago her father had stopped believing in him for some reason as well. Moaning, she shook her head. “And I started lying.”
“Pain makes us do things we wouldn’t normally do,” he said. “You were hurting and didn’t want us to see it. Knowing you, you probably figured if you ignored it, it would just go away.” She nodded. “Seeing your beloved brother and best friend get married had to be hard for you. You love them both and I know you were happy about their relationship. But seeing them so happy must have felt a bit like being stabbed in the back.”
It had and that he understood made her feel a little better. “I felt so guilty for it.”
“Makes sense to me. But there was no reason to. Of anyone, they would have understood.”
Her chest felt a little sore, but the tightness was gone, leaving behind a great big empty. “I don’t know who I am.”
“You are Camille Vy Covington. Wonderful girl with a sweet sense of humor, highly intelligent, loves effortlessly, jumps in with both feet into things she believes in, and a teenage girl. Dearest daughter, everything’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” His firm voice helped her to relax against him.
“What if it happens again?”
“We’ll work to make sure we don’t miss the small things so that they cannot grow into big things.”
Leaning against him, a thought came to her that she tried to shoo away, but it kept coming back. “Trever kind of has the same devil-may-care attitude Damian had.”
“He has his head on more straight, but yes,” he agreed. “He’s a flirt.”
Gripping his sleeve, she snuggled closer. “I don’t want to get into that kind of mess again. I want the kind of guy I deserve, not the kind of guy I’m attracted to.”
He chuckled softly and kept rocking her.
There were good things and bad things about being kept on a short leash, as her father termed it. There was a freedom to knowing she couldn’t get away with anything, and yet at the same time that was annoying. Drake called her on everything he saw. And loudly, too. Unfortunately, just because she’d been crying did not mean she was melting down. One day it was because she was tired and when he yelled out, “Cami’s been crying again!” she lost it.
She’d never beaten on her brother before, but she attacked him, throwing fists and kicking. It was probably a good thing he was just as big as she was. With what seemed little effort, he had her turned around and held against his chest while she screamed and thrashed. Her father’s expression was a bit priceless when he came upon them. “Drake, let her go!” were his first words.
“Dad! She tried to hit me!”
Alex looked from Drake to Cami, who knew she was blushing in embarrassment, and shook his head. “Did you try and hit your brother?”
“I… he… yes.” Excuses as to why wouldn’t work and would actually add to whatever her punishment would be.
“And why?”
“I told on her again,” Drake said, sounding a little embarrassed.
“I see. All right. Both of you in my study, one in one corner, the other in the opposite one. Don’t move until I tell you.” Cami followed her brother briskly down the stairs and into their father’s study, taking up her spot in the corner she was usually sent to.
Time tended to go slowly when one’s nose was pressed to a corner and today was no different. Except she knew her brother was just a few feet away. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Which part?”
“Lie? Try to kill yourself?”
“I wasn’t consciously trying to kill myself, Drake. I was just hurting and scared and trying to protect everyone including myself, I guess.”
“I wish I’d told before,” he admitted.
“I agree, but I wish you would overlook some things now. Sometimes I cry. I’m a girl. Get used to it.”
Snickering reached her and she grinned. “So, Trever’s coming to dinner tonight,” he said quietly after a few more minutes of silence.
“Ugh. I’d forgotten,” she admitted. “But he seems like a nice guy…”
“Not for you.” The words came fast and sounded as though he had someone else in mind.
“Who do you think’s good enough for me?” she teased knowing that both he and Alexander didn’t think anyone was.
“There’s a guy,” he mumbled. “He’s really nice and I know you like him. I just don’t think you’ve really looked at him.”
“Who?”
Before he could answer, their father entered the study and the door shut.
Dinner with Trever was different. Talking to him was easy and she actually laughed a lot, normal laughter instead of the fake stuff she had been known for over the summer. Dating him even held some appeal, but she could see he wasn’t head of the household material, and felt rather disappointed and relieved at the same time. Looked like both her father and Drake were right. Trever wasn’t for her.
His twinkling eyes winked at her across the table and Drake caught sight of it, clearing his throat. “Do you like to fish?” he asked out of the blue.
“I haven’t been fishing in years,” Trever admitted. “Too busy at the winery. And it’s just going to get busier. I’m travelling to Europe on business for the next few weeks.”
“Do you travel a lot?” Charlotte asked.
“Probably thirty to forty weeks a year. I’m working on expansion and that’s tough work. There’s a lot of getting to know the people in the business: the experts and the tasters who have a lot of pull in the industry. It keeps me busy but as I’ll be taking over in about five years since my parents want to travel, I might as well get used to it. Running a winery is a twenty-four-hour-a-day job.”
“What do you think of Hyacinth?” Drake asked in a mulish tone. Cami kicked him under the table making him wince.
“This is a nice little town,” Trever admitted. “Haven’t spent a lot of time here. I went to high school over in Gelvinith. Got my bachelors at UW. With dating being, shall we say, nixed over here, Hyacinth wasn’t really in my line of sight until recently.”
“And why now?” went on her pig-headed brother. Trever raised an eyebrow, obviously realizing he was getting the third degree with a thirteen-year-old.
“I’m looking for something besides casual dating and your sister caught my eye.”
“Drake,” Alex said, stopping his son who looked as though he was about to say something he would regret. “Is your homework done?”
Startled Drake lost his annoyed look and turned toward their father. “It’s not due until Monday. I can do it tomorrow.”
“I think your paper is going to take you awhile. Why don’t you take your plate and finish your dinner while you write? Use my study. It’s quiet in there.”
“Paper, I don’t have a…” Drake’s voice trailed off as pink tinged his cheeks. “Oh, right. Okay.” Cami had to hand it to her dad. He managed to assign a paper as discipline without letting their guest know what it was for. The man had skills. Standing up, Drake gathered his plate and cutlery, casting Cami an embarrassed look before scuttling out of the room.
The rest of dinner ran smoothly until dessert was finished. “It’s still a warm evening,” Trever said as they stood up from the table. “Camille, would you like to go for a walk?”
Startled, she looked to her father for some sort of direction. He met her eyes and turned his gaze to their guest. “I’m afraid a single girl isn’t allowed to take a walk with an unattached male who is not of her family,” Alex said smoothly. “It would create too much gossip that would unfortunately be to Camille’s detriment.” He guided Trever out of the dining room while Cami and her mother cleared the table and started the dishes. When her father came into the kitchen a few minutes later, he leaned on the counter, watching them. “What did you think?” he asked, tearing off a piece of cake with his fingers.
“He’s nice,” Cami hedged, “But… he’s not right for me.”
“I agree. But I wanted the decision to be yours.” After popping the cake into his mouth, he hugged her lightly. “When you’re done, come join me in the living room. Your brother will be in the study for a while.”
Every night they sat, talked about her day, and took apart each piece of it until Cami began to recognize when she was lying to herself. She would begin with convincing herself that it was better to hide something than to tell them and as that got her a minimum of twenty swats with the paddle, she began to notice when she did it and told either her father or her mother. Saving her rear end was in the upper part of her mind, but also there was freedom in being completely honest. With no lies, she didn’t have to try and remember them. Who knew it was so tough on the body to try and remember what you said?
When Jerod’s packages started coming in, she was excited. She could hardly wait to deliver to him his completed wardrobe. Maybe that would help make up for her stupidity the last couple times they saw one another. She still didn’t completely agree with her mother that he had asked her out on a date, but she knew something went wrong. With him finding he
r breaking the rules, she was sure that had lowered her in his opinion. And for some reason, his opinion mattered to her. As each piece of clothing came in, she unpacked it, steamed it to get the wrinkles out, and hung it up in her closet to keep each piece looking fresh. When the final piece arrived, she placed it with the others and decided a call was better than an email.
Dialing his number, she half expected voice mail, but he answered. “This is Jerod.” His deep, smooth voice sent jitters down her back and she bit back a giggle that wanted to escape. “Hello?”
Realizing she hadn’t spoken yet, she cleared her throat. “Uh, hi, Jerod. It’s Cami. Camille Covington? All your clothes have arrived. When did you, uh, want them delivered?” She figured the least she could do would be to drop them by his house.
“Miss Covington,” he said, his tone becoming more formal, which she did not like at all but knew she probably deserved. “I’ll actually be in Hyacinth tomorrow as I’m working the morning at the hospital. May I drop by your house afterward?”
“I, uh, sure, that would be fine. Do you know about what time?” Slapping her hand across her forehead, Cami knew she was coming across as an idiot. What happened to her brain? Did it go on a vacation? She sounded as though she was a girl of twelve, instead of a woman of eighteen.
“My shift ends around noon. Would one be all right? I’ll grab some lunch first.”
“Why don’t you come have lunch with us? We always have more than enough to eat.” As the words poured from her mouth, Cami felt as though she was possessed. What was she saying! She wasn’t allowed to invite men for meals. This was bad. Very, very bad.
“Oh, that would be nice. Thank you, Camille.” His voice was back to the warmth she liked, but she was too busy trying to think how to break the news to her parents to really notice.
“Great. So see you around twelve-thirty?”
“Perfect. I’ll bring your money as well. I look forward to checking out my new wardrobe.” Putting her phone down, she fell down on her bed and banged her head against her pillow.