"We'll go straight to Sheriff Chipley. File a report - get it in writin'. They won't be able to cover it up after that - we won't let them, okay?" he says with gentle fervor, but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as me. "They're gonna try, you know. Mayor Forbes will, and if your daddy is on their side... we're gonna have a fight on our hands. But I'm standin' by you, Ror, okay? He ain't gonna hurt you again. Not ever."
I nod again. This is what I needed - a plan. Chip's daddy is the town sheriff, and I can't be sure, but I don't think he would help the Forbes cover this up. He's not the country club type; he doesn't care about all that. From what I know about him professionally, he believes in justice, doing things by the book, and I'm counting on it, because Cam's right - this is going to be a fight.
"Everyone is gonna know," I whisper. My gut rolls with thoughts of the humiliation I'm bound to endure. People will take sides, and even those who take pity on me, they'll see me differently.
Cam doesn't argue the point. He knows I'm right. He just squeezes me tighter. "I know, Rory girl. But we're gonna get through this, okay? I promise you that." Not "you'regonna get through this", butwe.
I nod again. "Okay."
Cam sighs. "Alright, let's get to bed. You must be exhausted, and I need a shower. You want me to run you a bath in my mom's bathroom?"
"Nah," I reply, pulling out of his arms, "I just wanna sleep." Cam lifts the comforter and I slide underneath it and curl up on my side.
While Cam showers I plan it all out in my head. He's going to want to wait to talk to the sheriff until tomorrow night, after he has time to confront Robin, which I absolutely cannot allow to happen. I know I'll have to do this part alone.
Cam hasn't willingly woken up before ten in the morning since we were kids, so all I have to do is wake up early and drive over to the Sheriff's station. God willing, Robin will be arrested before Cam even knows he's back in town, and I can prevent their confrontation.
After his shower, Cam climbs into bed behind me in just his flannel pajama bottoms and pulls me back against him. I twist around so I'm facing him instead, and tuck my head under his chin, nuzzling the nook between his neck and shoulder, and breathe in his clean, familiar scent. I don't bother trying to mask my deliberate inhale - I don't care if he knows I'm sniffing him. Cam tightens his hold, tenderly strokes my hair, and whispers how everything's going to be okay. I think I'm actually starting to believe him.
****
It's still dark when I wake next, save for the moonlight and some bright distant light source I suspect to be the flashlight app on Cam's phone. I know what he's up to before I even open my eyes - the same thing he always does when he can't sleep. My eyes flutter open and I confirm that he's seated at his desk, furiously scribbling away in his journal. I watch him as he writes, his bare, broad shoulders tensely flexing with the effort, until he peeks over at me and catches me spying.
"Didn't mean to wake you, Rory girl," he murmurs.
"Then come back to bed," I croak.
Cam smiles weakly before abandoning his journal, and returning to his rightful spot to resume his hold of me.
"I can't sleep without you," I whisper into his chest. I'm certain I can't live without him either, but I don't say that, not now when I've already burdened him enough.
Cam soothes his fingers through my hair. "You got me, Rory girl. You'll always have me. I love you so damn much - I ain't ever gonna leave you," he breathes. And with those comforting words, despite all of my pain, all the hell I've been living, and the tempest I'm about to unleash on this town with tomorrow's confession - one far more tumultuous than the storm currently raging outside - I feel an unfathomable contentment, and drift off to sleep, safe in Cam's arms.
I have no way of knowing how short lived my contentment will be. No way of knowing that Cam's words will be his last to me, and thus, a lie.
TWENTY
P R E S E N T D A Y
IWAKE TOmorning light creeping in through the curtains. I'm alone in the bedroom of Sam's suite, so I take a few minutes to reorient myself and try to recall everything that happened last night. Parts are so very vivid, and others quite hazy. The effort just makes my head pound even more than my hangover does.
My first hangover.Well, Operation: Normal Rory was an epic failure.
I remember leaving the bar with Sam, and that I forgot my room key. I remember some of our banter and I smile to myself.
And I remember our kiss.God, do I remember that. Just the thought of it - the memory of him positioned between my thighs, towering over me tall and strong, his delicious tongue plundering my eager mouth - it has my entire body heated and desire simmering low in my belly.
The door to the living room is slightly ajar - probably so Sam would be alerted if I had another nightmare. I wonder when he got up, and vaguely I think it couldn't have been too long ago, or another nightmare is exactly what would've happened.
Could he really have such power over me so quickly? The ability to quell months of night terrors with just the security of his arms? It would seem impossible, and yet, here I am.
I slip out of bed and head directly into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I wash my face and rinse with some mouthwash.
Scenes from last night resurface unbidden.
Oh, damn, I threw up.
I threw up a lot.
