Chapter 19
Brooke
Cameron sat in my car, quietly humming something. His eyes stared blankly at a small circular paper he held in his hands—some sort of art project he created—watercolors blending and bleeding into each other in great swirling strokes. His teacher said he had a difficult day. He seemed restless and agitated, more fidgety than usual.
Even I found myself staring vacantly through the windshield, barely able to remember driving back from the school. The clusterfuck of stop and go traffic, the disjointed noise of different car radios overlapping songs with each other, all mixed and blurred through my senses. The shadows of the buildings slanted strangely across the streets, making the world take on a surreal effect to it.
“Are you hungry, Cameron?” I asked softly, looking at him through the rearview mirror.
He shook his head violently, side-to-side, and moaned in frustration.
The streets were slick with the last remnants of melted slush and snow, and the last streams of sunlight danced through the icy crystals that dripped from trees’ branches as we drove under them.
Ryan’s car wasn’t parked in his normal spot in front of his place. I scanned the street quickly, hoping it was parked somewhere further down, but it wasn’t there at all.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight. I wanted to get home and talk to Dean—or maybe my father—about what was happening. I wanted them to tell me what to do next, not wait here for Ryan to get home, so he could watch Cameron. Who knew how late he’d get back?
As I parked the car, Cameron’s noises and annoyed tones increased to an ear-splitting level. “You want to run ahead, Cam?” Maybe he needed to get out of the car. “You could run ahead.” I handed him Ryan’s house key and smiled.
He didn’t hesitate, thudding open the car door and slamming it shut hard. He was agitated and tight, and I knew I was in for a long night if I didn’t get him in a better mood.
I ran after him, not wanting him to get more frustrated if he couldn’t get the lock quick enough.
As I stomped up the steps, I heard him mumbling, “Take shoes off.”
“I will,” I answered him, closing the door and tossing my car keys onto the counter in the kitchen. I really didn’t want to take my shoes off—or even my coat. I wanted to jump right back in my car and go home. My mind was filled with overwhelming emotions, all of them leading to one thing; Ryan Cage. I was scared. Too scared of what happened with Harris to be able to jump in with both feet.
What if Ryan didn’t feel the same way about me? What if I lost my job? What if I didn’t and had to stay in an office where everyone knew I slept with the captain—and then a detective? What would Ryan have to hear?
I needed to talk to Dean. I needed to get advice from my dad. Both of them would know what to do, even if the shame of asking them and telling them what happened might kill me.
“Take shoes off,” Cameron demanded of me again.
I hung my head in my hands and took a deep breath, how did he even know I still had them on? I was in a different room. “I will; I promise.”
Cameron grunted loudly in response.
I slid my coat off my arms and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
And that’s when I heard theslap, slap, slap, making the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Cameron? Cameron, what’s wrong?” My voice came out more panicky than I wanted it to, but I just couldn’t understand why he’d start slapping himself just because I hadn’t take off my shoes yet. Maybe he thought I was going to leave. I was, though, wasn’t I? He probably knew. I was probably projecting my own anxiety, frustrations, and fears out on him, and he thought I would leave him here alone.
I rushed to the living room, to the sounds of more frustrated grunting. It was dim inside the room—the blinds were pulled closed over the windows and only a small amount of sun seeped in.
Long, dark shadows crawled up the walls, making everything feel oddly sinister, like something wasn’t quite right.
I tilted my head slowly, peering into the corner.
There in one of the shadows stood a woman standing so still that I almost didn’t notice her. Cameron was between us, agitated and pacing, gesturing toward the woman’s feet. “Take off shoes.” His voice was becoming high-pitched and hysterical.
She stared at me for a long moment without a word. Then, slowly her straight-lipped expression curled up until she was baring her teeth.
Unease and surprise twisted through my stomach so strongly that I literally bent forward at the waist from the pain.Another woman had the keys to his apartment. How was it this possible for me to be so gullible when it came to men? What the hell did I do in my life to deserve meeting only liars, cheaters, and assholes?
Maybe this was his older sister? I dismissed the theory quickly. The woman looked to be in her forties—too old to be the sister who lived in California.
“Hello,” I smiled tightly. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
