NORMAL (42 page)

But Daddy got mad, he said I was mistaken, that Robin could have anyone he wanted and I was just a small town girl - a dime a dozen. He said Robin would never have to make anyone do anything, and I know that, I know Robin could have anyone... but he
did
, he made me!"

I sniffle and reach over to Cam's nightstand for a tissue to wipe my nose. I feel so defeated. "He said if Robin did that then it was my fault - that I asked for it by the way I've been dressin’. That Robin misunderstood, that he'd never do that to me if he didn't think I wanted him to, because he loved me. He said not to fuck that up."

Cam is silent for minutes. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rumble, weighed down by a calm fury. "Well, shit. I always knew your dad was a dick, but,
shit
." He wraps his arms around me and tucks my head under his chin, and in his embrace, I can finally think straight. I let out an short laugh.

"Yeah, he is," I agree.

"When was all this?" he asks.

"Monday."

I feel Cam tremble with rage, but he holds it in, and his arms hold me tight. "Then what happened yesterday was his fault as much as Forbes's." He takes a deep breath. "I don't know yet how we're gonna handle him, Ror, but he doesn't deserve to be a daddy. Definitely not
your
daddy, and I ain't gonna let him get away with this, I swear it."

I nod against Cam's chest, I can't argue with him, because he's right. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, telling my daddy what Robin's been doing, and he rejected it - he rejected
me
. And both times it happened since I told him, including yesterday, is his responsibility. He was supposed to protect me. I know this, and right now, I realize how much I hate my father. He doesn't deserve my forgiveness. I grip Cam tighter. He's all I have in the world.

"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 gently, 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, 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 a 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. The humiliation will be awful. 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, Ror. But we're gonna get through this, okay?" Not "you're gonna get through this", but "we".

I nod again. "Okay," I breathe.

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?" he offers.

"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 tightly to him. I twist around so that 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 on me and whispers to me how everything's going to be okay, and I think I'm actually starting to believe him.

****

When I awaken it's still dark, save for the moonlight and some bright distant light source that I'm sure is 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 tense, 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 leaving his journal forgotten on his desk, 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'm burdening him enough.

Cam tenderly strokes 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 that currently rages outside - I feel 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.

Present Day

I
am awakened by morning 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.
Maybe Operation: Normal Rory wasn't the best idea after all.

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 were to have another nightmare. I wonder when he got up. Vaguely I think it couldn't have been too long ago or another nightmare is exactly what I'd have suffered.

Could he really have such power over me so quickly? The ability to quell my incessant night terrors with just the security of his arms? It would seem impossible, and yet...

I slip out of bed and go directly into the bathroom and lock the door. I wash my face and rinse with some mouthwash.

Scenes from the night before resurface unbidden.

Oh, damn, I threw up.

I threw up a lot.

That's when I remember how our kiss
ended.

Oh, God
, and begging Sam for sex!
Did I really do that? What the hell is wrong with me?

I sit on the edge of the tub and try to remember everything I said, everything he said, but I can't. I can only remember remnants of conversation, and none of it makes me feel any less humiliated.

Knock, knock.

I startle.

"Rory, you okay?" Sam asks.

"Fine," I reply through the door as I use my fingers to tame my unkempt hair. I sigh as I survey my reflection. I've definitely looked better. I gingerly open the door and Sam rises from the edge of the bed where he'd been sitting and waiting on me.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he drawls with a smile.

I freeze.

I can feel all the blood drain from my already pale face and my pulse start to race. I take a deep breath and swallow down my nerves.
Sam is not Robin and Sam is not my father.
I close my eyes and pull myself together.

"Ror-"

"Don't call me that," I say as firmly as I can manage. When I open my eyes Sam is standing right in front of me, his brow etched with concern.

"I always call you 'Ror'. I didn't think-"

"Not that. The other thing."

I stalk out the door into the living room and grab my bra off the arm of the sofa. I face away from Sam to push it under my shirt and secure it without having to remove my top. I'm wearing a white tank top and small or not, my breasts weren't exactly concealed. Idly I wonder if Sam noticed this this morning, or last night, or if the fact that he's not especially attracted to me blinds him to any aspects of my sexuality.

I'm still working out everything that happened. I kissed him, but he also kissed me back. And
God, did he kiss me back.
Do guys just kiss any willing girls that way? I can't imagine it - I've never been kissed like that in my life, and I've certainly never kissed anyone like that. Not even close. Except for the one kiss I ever shared with Cam. But still, last night's kiss with Sam was in a league all its own.

In those moments I was certain he wanted me - I felt his desire, and I was sure it was for
me
. I'm a stupid, stupid girl. Just as naive as I've always been. I realize now of course that Sam's temporary interest had more to do the fact that I was simply a willing body and he's a guy, that's all. But my realization comes too late to save myself the humiliation. Because if he could break it off so easily, pull away like he did, then clearly he didn't want me. Not really. Not like I wanted him.  

Like I
want
him.

"Sleeping Beauty?" Sam asks, perplexed.

"That's the one," I murmur as I walk around the room searching for my purse. I need to check my phone. And take my birth control pill. Though I've been less than perfect with the whole
take-them-at-the-same-time-everyday
thing since it's not like I'm actually having sex, I do still take them just in case. Not in case I have a one night stand - that's not something I ever so much as considered before last night - but in case I encounter someone like Robin. Someone who doesn't give me a choice.

"Okay, I won't. Any particular reason?" Sam asks, and I guess he's frustrated by my wandering around his hotel room and not meeting his eyes because he grabs my hand and tugs gently to get my attention. I don't know why, but this pisses me off. He had my attention last night. My
full
attention. And he didn't want it.

"Yes, there's a
particular reason,
" I hiss. "Rory is a nickname for
Aurora
, remember? I was named after Sleeping fucking Beauty. My father called me that. Robin called me that. Don't call me that. Ever. Okay?"

Now our eyes are locked, and Sam nods slowly. "You mad at me?" he asks softly, and I look down at my bare feet. I am. I
am
mad at him, but I know I have no right to be. Surely I can't be angry with my friend for not wanting to sleep with me. Imagine if it were the other way around?

I sigh. "No, I suppose I'm not," I murmur defeatedly on an exhale, still looking down.

Sam lifts my chin with his index finger to meet his gaze, a familiar gesture now. "That wasn't very convincing."

I say nothing. What can I say?

"You know," Sam murmurs tentatively, "
Aurora
wasn't just a Disney princess..."

I narrow my eyes, unsure where he's going with this, and Sam's lips quirk up into a half smile.

"She was a Roman goddess - of the dawn," he continues. "According to myth, she renews herself every morning and flies through the sky announcing the arrival of the sun."

I blink at him. I've read only the most basic mythology and mostly Greek, not Roman. But still, it's my own freaking name, how have I never heard this? "How do you even know that?" I ask Sam, who simply shrugs.

"I might be known to crack open a book from time to time... Come on, I got you some orange juice and aspirin. You must be feeling crappy," he offers, pulling me to the couch which has been stripped of any evidence that anyone crashed there last night. At least until I begged him to sleep in the bed with me instead.
God am I pathetic.

"You mean because I look like crap," I mutter under my breath.

We both sit and I take the pills and down the entire glass of juice. I glance at Sam who seems pleased. No doubt he was expecting an argument, but I just don't have it in me right now. And the truth is I was beyond parched and the juice really did the trick.

"You don't look like crap."

I roll my eyes.
Great, here come the platitudes.

"You look like a beautiful girl who drank too much last night and is paying for it now," he asserts.
Yeah, because men always reject beautiful girls who beg them for sex.
I hate that I'm so pitiful he needs to try to console me with banalities.