Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1) (16 page)

Piece by piece, I discard my clothes and throw them to the floor. Our heated tongues meet when I go to her again. Her body moves beneath me, urgent, letting me in. I align myself with her opening and slip inside her. Her small gasp breaks our kiss, but she pulls my face back to hers, our bodies molding against one another. Slowly, I sway my hips back and forth, not wanting to lose control and jostle her sacred heart.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her lips moving against mine.

My fingers stroke the stray stands of her hair from her forehead while her nails dig into my shoulder. I’m throbbing with need. My hand and then my mouth travel to her breast, savoring her, as she consumes me. My eyes close as I listen to the soft moans slipping from her lips. Tension builds inside of me, and my thrusts become more erratic. I open my eyes to meet hers as she pulls me closer to her, trusting me, as her body trembles.

Our eyes hold, and I see her. My reason, my purpose.

“Cam,” she moans my name. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Like a hundred orgasms, her words hit me, rocking me, as my motions become harder, faster. Her hips move with mine, a synchronized dance of love and lust and fire and passion.

Reaching between her breasts, I place my hand on her chest and lean into her, so my lips caress her right ear.

“I need you, sweetheart. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. I love you.”

Undone, she embraces me, our hearts beating against one another. She clings on to me, our limbs mixing with one another. Silently, I promise us a future where our pasts readjust, making us inseparable.

After she reaches her peak, my name crosses her lips in a frenzy of kisses that she places against my jaw. As I lose myself in her, with her, because of her, my ecstasy rises in perfect waves. I crash into her, Yanelys leading the way with her light. Seconds expand into a beautiful timelessness, and all I see is Yanelys, her bright brown eyes, her alluring smile, her tender heart.

Morning light spills from the shades, its radiance showering over the soft blue covers of the bed. The warm glow of Olivia nestled between Yanelys and me puts my sleeping dreams to rest and brings me to a reality that makes the everlasting darkness of my soul disappear.

Finding my love in them, I reach over Olivia, who snuck into our bed after midnight, and trace a finger over Yanelys’s arm. In her sleep she murmurs, filling my voids, making living less terrifying.

A new day, a new hope.

The recognizable tremble of my fingers reminds me of my addiction, crushing my hope to the destiny I paved when I caved to my destruction, believing it would cure my every pain. Stumbling out of bed, I cross Yanelys’s room to the bathroom where I hid the pills Pastor Floyd had given me in a small sandwich bag and then placed in the air vent. I stand on the edge of the tub and slide the vent cover. I reach my hand in there until I feel the bag and then pull it out. Taking a small pill in one hand, I slide the bag back into its hiding place and step off the tub.

With closed eyes, I whisper a prayer, my faith crying, my spirit dropping. Looking forward, I put the pill on my tongue, swallowing the emptiness, as my gaze meets my reflection in the mirror. Disgust builds up in my heart, the embers of my hatred burning my skin.

When the door opens, I turn toward it and sink into Yanelys’s arms when she comes to me. Her head rests over my racing heart, and she squeezes my lean frame closer to her.

“Livvy’s going to ask you for more chocolate chip pancakes.” Her eyes, twinkling with happiness, meet mine when she leans her head back. “You’re going to say no.”

“What?” My eyebrows shoot upward. “And disappoint my daughter?”

“Yep.” She nods her head. “It’s a school day, and I have a strict no-sugar rule on school days.”

“Oh.” I lean down and nip her bottom lip. “That’s why you have a hidden stash of Lucky Charms, huh?”

“I don’t go to school, so that rule doesn’t apply to me.”

Her laughter brings out mine, misting over the ugliness that clung to me moments ago.

“You always find a loophole.”

I rub my nose over the crevice of her throat as she brings her arms around my neck. Her goodness fills the air, taking away the tension that threatens to linger. Not wanting to break the illusion, I pretend that I’m okay. That I don’t already wish I’d taken two pills instead of one.

Taking ahold of Yanelys’s hand, I guide us to the kitchen and take over breakfast, chopping onions and bell peppers for an egg omelet. I pretend I don’t hurt, that the wars I lost haven’t left battle scars on my heart. I pretend I’m a warrior, that my hidden rage is locked away. I hide it all with the calmness and smiles that quickly fade away when I’m alone.

My emotions churn, anxiety taking precedence in the pit of my stomach. The disquiet rumble of needing more pricks at my skin, coiling my muscles.

I steady my breath and listen to my girls argue over the shoes Olivia wants to wear to school.

After whisking four eggs, I pour them into the frying pan and sprinkle the chopped onions and bell peppers into the middle along with a few leaves of spinach and shredded cheese.

“That’s a big omelet,” Olivia says from behind me, peeking at the pan that’s slowly cooking one side of the omelet.

A smile spreads across my face when I notice Olivia is wearing the white shoes she insisted would go perfectly with her white-and-pink dress.

“It’s a monster omelet.” I wink at her, making her giggle.

Pretenses fade away, replaced with the darkness that floats into my soul, when I spot Santiago and Carmen coming into the kitchen. Olivia bounces toward her grandparents, a flurry of exuberant innocence, while my sickness claws at me, edging me toward the tranquility I can only find with another pill.

My eyes meet Santiago’s, and he slightly nods his head, leaving the kitchen and heading to the back patio with two steaming coffee travel mugs in his hands.

“I have to talk to your dad,” I tell Yanelys, who takes over the stove after planting a kiss on the side of my lips.

When I sit next to Santiago on Yanelys’s wicker chair, he hands me the coffee mug that warms my skin and a pill that ices my veins.

Weak, pathetic. A constant circle of doubt, survival, hatred, I surrender to the angry daze of my reality.

And I wait for the sadness to quiet so that, for just a little while, I can forget what it feels like.

TWENTY-ONE

YANELYS

The way he hides his pain only intensifies my need to protect him. From himself, from his past. I see it but can’t reach it. Can’t reach him. So, I hold him closer, squeeze him tighter.

He scans his eyes over the auditorium, sweat building on the base of his neck, his muscles twitching. His need to leave the school we had gone to as kids grows inside of him, but still, he stays because he promised Olivia he’d be here, that he’d never miss a single one of her shows or school events.

“They don’t start for another fifteen minutes.” I squeeze his hand. “Why don’t we go outside and get some air?”

He nods once, his eyes unbridled when they land on me, and he licks his dry lips.

“We’ll be back,” I tell my dad whose wary eyes track us as we stand up to leave.

Through the halls, I try to keep pace with Camden’s hurried strides. Our loud footsteps fall on walls littered with school-age drawings, echoing down the long hallway. His hasty, jerky movements unnerve me, but I keep my hand tucked in his, holding on so that I don’t lose him entirely. When he opens the door, cool air greets us, and the scent of fall hits my nose.

“Cam,” I call to him when he continues to walk away from the school and toward my car, his worried past trailing behind his heels, the expansive blue sky stretching before us. “Come back to me,” I whisper, tugging on his hand.

His body stills, and when he spins around, our eyes meet. His are clear blue. Raw. Damaged. Pained.

He crushes his lips to my mouth, and my lips part from the force of his kiss. His tongue dances with mine, unyielding, as he pours his desperation into me. His fingers dig into my shoulders as mine fist in his hair, tugging, pulling, demanding even more. On a painful sigh, Camden pulls away from me, expelling a heavy breath over my face. Tormented eyes seek mine, and I place a hand over his cheek, his sadness washing over me, as I search his face for the boy I love.

“Where are you, Cam?”

He drops his hands from my shoulders, his gaze scouring the ground around us. Even in the cool air, his sweat continues to drip from his forehead.

“Nowhere. I’m nowhere, Yan.” Blurred bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I don’t exist.” Grief-stricken, his tone is raspy and barely audible.

At his words, my entire body goes up in flames and I hope the burning light in my soul will help him find his way back to me and away from the memories of his tormented youth.

Moving my hand from his cheek, I place my hands around his neck and bring him closer to me. Our bodies flush against one another, I feel the pounding of his battered heart against my own chest. A cold wisp of air surrounds us, and I bury my face into his neck, wanting to tell him just how good and beautiful he is. How he doesn’t have to run away anymore.

“You’re home, baby. You’re home,” I whisper, desperation edging my voice. “I’m your home, remember?”

“Yeah.” Agitation coils through him, making the muscles on his face twitch.

He steps away from my embrace, brushing his hands over his face and squeezing his eyes shut, staying that way for only a second before he opens them to look back at me.

“You, me, and Livvy. Okay?” I take a step forward and meet his frown with a gentle smile.

The blue dimming, his eyes are like an endless meadow of infinite fear. I hold his gaze, a prisoner to the sadness behind them.

“You don’t have to stay to watch the show,” I finally say, sad for our daughter and the disappointment she’ll feel when she doesn’t see him in the crowd. “I’ll record it, and we can watch it on the TV back home.”

“I promised Livvy.” His frown deepens.

“You can make it up to her with chocolate chip pancakes for dinner.”

“No!” he shouts, anger rushing through him.

I startle a few steps away from him.

“I need to be here for Livvy, for you, for myself. I can’t let my parents continue running my life. Once, just once, I need to win.”

“Okay.” I nod, again putting my arms around his neck and holding on to him, hoping he’ll hold me back.

“They took my childhood,” he whispers into the crevice of my neck, “scarred it so that the weight of it still pushes me down. And every time I get this little glimmer of hope and I start to feel happy, they rip it away from me. Being with you makes it hurt a little less. Since we were kids, you’ve made living hurt a little less.” A small sob escapes from his throat, and I stroke the back of his head, my fingers combing through his unruly hair. “Don’t make me do this by myself.”

“I wouldn’t.” Framing his face with my hands, I make him look back at me. “Never, baby. I’d never leave you.”

“You say that now…” He trails off, averting his eyes away from me.

“I say that now and tomorrow and a hundred tomorrows from now.”

His chest lifts on a slow inhale, pain taking over his features as his jaw clenches and unclenches. Emotions spill from him, his silence thickening the air between us.

“Being back at this school brings back memories,” he finally says on a broken whisper. “Good and bad, but so much bad that I feel myself choking on it.”

Out of the shadows of our childhood school, his silent screams for inner peace rake over me as we both remember the endless lies of Camden’s youth. We can’t hide from them; we never could. So, we continue to put on masks in the hopes of making the other feel better because I know…I know, I know,
I know
I can’t love away his scars. I can only heal his heavy heart when he’s finally ready to let me in.

“So much good, too, Cam.” I kiss the side of his head. “We owned the hallways when we were kids.” A soft smile spreads over my lips when he chuckles. “There wasn’t a kid in our class who didn’t want to be us.”

“Your delusion is scary,” he jokes, his voice trembling.

He places his warm lips against my neck as I encircle my arms around him again.

“We were totally the coolest kids here.”

“That’s even scarier if you believe that.” His body goes limp as he relaxes in my arms and peers down into my face. Guiding strands of my hair behind my ear, he rubs his callous knuckles over my cheek. “We weren’t even close to being cool.”

“By high school, we were,” I retort. “Kind of. I mean, no one ever made fun of us after you beat up a couple of kids.”

“And no one ever dared to ask you on a date for that same reason,” he informs me.

I throw my head back in appreciative laughter. “I knew it! You always denied it, but I knew Johnny didn’t ask me out because of you.”

“Joey,” he corrects.

I narrow my eyes at him.

“And he didn’t ask you out because he knew he wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Did your fist tell him that?”

“No, common sense did.” He winks.

Undeniable joy surrounds me when he tightens his arms around my waist. His warm breath falls over my face when he presses his lips to my forehead, lingering there, savoring me. Our hearts beat against one another, gentle and soft.