I dropped the phone onto the couch, pressing the heelsof my hands into my eyes until all I saw were stars. The apartment was still quiet, but it felt louder now, the silence full of everything I couldn’t say. I was drowning, and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold it all together. Part of me hated myself for even letting him in when my life was this much of a mess.
I stayed there in the dim living room, whispering the same words I always did when it got this heavy:Just keep going. They need you. Just keep going.
Because what choice did I have?
Chapter Thirty Seven
Hunter
Camille’s apartment door was unlocked when I got there. That alone set off all kinds of alarms. I knocked anyway, giving her the chance to tell me to leave if she wanted, but when no answer came, I pushed it open.
The living room was dim, lit only by the glow of a cartoon on the TV. Toys littered the floor. The twins had fallen asleep curled against each other on the couch, pacifiers half-slipping from their mouths. Zeke was slumped in the recliner with a blanket, his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of deep sleep.
And then I heard a soft, muffled sound. I followed the sound and found her in her room.
It was small, but it was her. The walls were crowded with snapshots. Her kids at the park, messy hair and toothy grins; a few of her and Dani mid-laugh; even a couple of faded Polaroids tacked up like tiny treasures. A stack of textbooks slumped against the nightstand, pages flagged with neonsticky notes. Tiny heaps of laundry dotted the floor, folded halfway or waiting to be.
Her bedspread was covered in faded flowers, the fabric soft from years of washing. On the dresser sat a vase with the first flowers I’d ever given her. Long dead now, petals brittle and curling, but she hadn’t thrown them out. And next to them, still somewhat presentable, were the flowers I had given her when we went to the aquarium.
And then there was her.
She was curled up on the bed, knees drawn tight, her face buried in her hands. Shoulders trembling. Her phone lay face down beside her, screen still lit from the unanswered call I’d made on my way over.
“Cami,” I said softly, leaning against the door frame.
She flinched, then looked up, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks wet. “Hunter… what are you doing here?”
“You didn’t sound okay,” I said simply. “So I came.”
She shook her head, trying to swipe at the tears with the back of her sleeve. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”
I stepped closer, my voice low. “Why not?”
Her lips trembled, and then the words spilled out. “Because it’s too much. The kids, school, work. Him.” Her throat caught on that last word. “Their father hasn’t even bothered this month. Not a dollar. Nothing. And I can’t do it all, Hunter. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I didn’t know every detail about their history, though she had been open and shared as much as I think she felt I wanted to know, and enough for me to hate the guy. From that day in the park, I’d known there was more to the story; more than just his absence that made her flinch at the sound of his name. But that hadn’t been thetime to ask, and maybe I wasn’t ready to see the look in her eyes again if I did.
I still couldn’t fathom how the hell any man could walk away from kids like hers. Kids who ran barefoot across the living room, giggling like sunshine, who clung to her like she was their whole world. Because she was.
And him? He wasn’t even showing up.
The thought alone made me want to track down this man and make good on the promise I had made.
But that wasn’t what she needed. Not tonight.
Instead, I decided to focus my energy differently. I sat down on the edge of the bed, careful, steady. “You don’t have to do it all alone.” Her eyes lifted, searching mine, wanting to believe me, but didn’t know how. I forced my voice softer. “You’re not failing. You’re fighting. And I’ve seen a lot of fighters in my life, Beautiful. You’re one of the strongest.”
Her breath hitched, and then she leaned forward, burying her face into my chest. The sobs shook her body, cries muffled against me. I wrapped my arms around her, hand steady at her back, cradling her close.
And as I held her, breathing in the faint floral notes from her hair, the rage in me quieted. Beneath it lingered a trace of vanilla, warm and subtle, the kind that reminded me of comfort after long days. It wrapped around me, steady and grounding, softening the edges of the storm that always seemed to churn inside me. Because more than anything, I wanted her to feel safe. Wanted her to know that no matter how heavy the load felt, she didn’t have to carry it by herself anymore.
We stayed that way until the tears slowed, until her breathing evened out. When she finally pulled back, her voice wasa whisper. “I don’t want to scare you off.”
I brushed a curl from her damp cheek, my thumb lingering just a little too long. “You couldn’t, even if you tried.”
Her laugh came out soft and gentle as she buried her face in my chest again, giggling against me despite the tears.
“I shouldn’t dump this on you,” she whispered. “It’s too much.” She pulled back, wiping her face with the heel of her hand, eyes shining and raw.
