Deep in the Heart Page 13

  Instead of anger, Cam threw his head back and laughed.

  I frowned, trying to look fierce and serious.

  “Oh, I get you’re not joking, sugar. I just like how bossy you got. Like I matter.”

  He tugged me forward, wincing as his leg twisted a little.

  “You do,” I said, slowing my steps so as not to hurt him more.

  “Good. That’s why we’re together.” He turned to face me once we stood next to the passenger side of the SUV Chuck drove. Cam tucked my hair behind my ear, then leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to my jaw. “I don’t like to think about what could’ve happened here tonight.”

  He opened the car door and helped me in the back seat.

  “Gotta make a call.”

  I nodded, liking that he took my hand once he’d pressed the buttons. “Brenda, I need… You’re already on it? Good. What do you need from me? All right. Jenna said there’s a video of him attacking her some years back.”

  He looked at me, even as my stomach plummeted. I didn’t want those images, my struggles out there for the world to see—to pick apart.

  “What place were you at with Ben?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  He touched my cheek, tipping my chin up toward him to better gauge my response. “We need to get in front of this. Tell me the name of the venue so Brenda can start dripping it before some troll does.”

  “Moody Theater,” I muttered, my stomach twinging harder. “But I really don’t want…”

  “You hear that?” Cam said, putting the phone back to his ear.

  He spoke with Brenda the rest of the way to the urgent care facility. Cam, being big-time country star Camden Grace, was seen quickly, and the doctor noted the knees were simply badly scraped and his shin bruised, not broken. After we received pain pills and a lesson in how to alleviate pressure, I was beyond exhausted.

  “You’re owly-eyed,” Cam said. “Let’s get you home.”

  I considered asking Cam to give me space, to let me process the night and the way he’d just steam-rolled me, not even listening to my concerns.

  I opened my mouth twice, but truth was, I didn’t want to be alone. Each time I closed my eyes, I relived the frantic faces of those teenagers from my past overshadowed by the female fans running toward us tonight. Their shrill screams and their hands. I shivered, hugging my arms tight to my body as I tried to ward off the memories.

  Cam shooed me to the bathroom and double-checked my locks, turning off lights and cursing when he ran into something in the living room. I met him in the bedroom, face washed and teeth brushed.

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead and I eased my body against his, thankful he was there and hating myself for the weakness of needing him. That had to make me weak, right, to need his presence to silence the screams in my head?

  Cam brushed his teeth and came out of the bathroom in just his boxer briefs. I had to close my eyes but already the image of his toned chest, the rippling abdominal muscles and tight hips was tattooed in my brain.

  As he hauled me closer, my eyes closed and the silence finally prevailed. I slid into an exhausted slumber.

  I woke hours later, alone. Turning, I placed my hand on the sheet. Cool.

  I sat up, eyes adjusting to the dark. I slipped from the bed and padded into the living room. Cam stood with his back to me, facing the large picture window. His hands pressed against the glass, his head bowed. He’d pulled on his jeans but left them unbuttoned. At his feet lay multiple foil wrappers.

  As I approached, the scent of caramel became more distinct.

  “I keep seeing the look in your eyes when that woman yanked your hair. Your neck arched back and I worried it would snap. All my fucking fault.”

  “No,” I said. “Ben was involved so it’s not your fault. He let those women back there.”

  “Ben might have let them through, but they were my fans. And when you looked at me, and I couldn’t focus on those women. On the threat like I should. I wanted to take the fear from your eyes. But I put you in that situation.”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to do this, dredge up this part of my past. But Cam needed to understand—and maybe, maybe I needed to forgive my seventeen-year-old self.

  “There was a rumor. After I left school to go to the Peace Barn.”

  “All right.”

  “Girls said I miscarried Ben’s baby.”

  Cam turned toward me, brows low, mouth flat. “Did you?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never been pregnant. Just stupid enough to have sex with him,” I added at Cam’s building scowl.

  If I’d been smarter, I would have left as soon as Ben showed me Fiona and Robbie together. But I wasn’t smart and I let him nail me in the back seat of his father’s Land Rover that night. That’s all it was—Ben, getting off.

  Afterward, I’d curled up in a ball, too numb to cry and too hurt to focus on anything.

  “Why’s he acting like this if it was just a rumor?”

  I sighed, wrapping my arms around my waist. Cam grunted before he pulled me to him, the rough edges of his bandaged hand pulling at my skin.

  “Before I left… Before the scene at the concert… I started bleeding, and I had cramps.”

  Cam kept his arms around me but his muscles shifted, tensed. “But you weren’t pregnant?” His voice lost some of its warm edge.

  He was thinking about Kim, thinking I’d made the same choice as Kim—to cheat and then to get rid of the baby. I tipped my face back and tried to step out of his arms. He tightened his hold but his eyes…they held the bleakest shadows.

  “No, Cam. No.”

  “You can’t leave the story there.” Urgency built with each of his words. He ached inside, just as I did because he thought I was like Kim. “Did you cheat?”

  He hurt. Because of me.

  When would the cycle end? I’d tried so hard to be better, live better. And yet…once again, I hurt a person I cared about.

  “I just told you I didn’t.”

  “But they all think you did. There’s gotta be some truth in that.”

  I stiffened my spine and stepped back.

  “There wasn’t. Not any. But I can’t say I appreciate you believing Ben over me.”

  He finally dropped his arms. He pulled another candy from his pocket, his hands shaking as he unwrapped the plastic. His eyes never left mine as the wrapper fell from his fingers. He shoved the Werther’s in his mouth and sucked.

  “Never said I did.”

  “Then you’re letting your pain from the past get in the way of thinking clearly.”

  “Like you did tonight?” he shot back. “Don’t think I didn’t read your face—you didn’t want Brenda to pull that footage. Why’s that, Jenna? What are we going to see?”

  “I get that you’re hurting—that you think somehow this is Kim all over again—but that was low, Cam. That was mean.”

  “Cuz I called you on it?”

  I lifted my chin, blinking back the tears I refused to let fall. “Because you’d actually believe that about me.”

  He spun on his heel. “I need some space.”

  “You need to trust me,” I shot back.

  “Like you do me? Don’t tell me you didn’t blame me when those gals came charging at us.”

  My hands clenched and my heart raced. “So did you.”

  No. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to finish this fight.

  I wanted him to hold me.

  But the door shut with a soft click.

  Just as I realized something terrible. I cared about Cam. More than I had for any man in my life.

  I slid to the floor, my cheek to my pulled-up knees and stared out at the predawn skyline winking back at me.

  Pop-pop wasn’t in today. He had his annual physical and then lunch with my dad. I loved how close the two of them were, but I also sighed with relief, thankful not to explain Kate’s presence or whatever I was doing with Cam. Nothing good, obviously, si
nce he’d left.

  I pulled out my phone, refusing to think about Cam more. My mother left me messages last night, as did Pop-pop and my brothers, all of which I answered so no one would panic or worry about me. I texted them all again, letting them know I was at the shop and planned to stay until six. No point in going home—there was no one to meet me.

  I missed Cam.

  I sipped the coffee I made, hating it almost as much as my screwed-up life.

  I cleared out a bunch of emails before I heard the knock on the door. I took a deep breath and went to face Cam’s sister.

  “Heya, Jenna.” Kate bounced into the store, holding on tight to a bag while her eyes danced around the shop. “This place is amazing.” Her voice was as reverent as one expected for a church.

  “Glad you like it. Want to look around for a minute?” I turned back to the door, making sure to lock the deadbolt. Ben might be in custody, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Later, if that’s okay,” Katie Rose said. “I brought you donuts. They’re not from that fancy place Cam said you liked because I didn’t want to be late, but I hope they’re still good.”

  “You going to eat one with me?” I asked.

  Kate’s eyes twinkled. “I could. But I already ate two on the way over.” She shrugged. “They smelled fantastic, and I was starving.”

  I took the sack from her as I laughed. Relief washed through me. I’d be okay. Cam had only been in my life a few days.

  Maybe my face gave me away. Kate spun back to me and asked, “What’s going on with you and my brother? I mean, really.”

  “I don’t know.” I set the donuts on the counter, no longer interested in food. Not even fried sugar bread.

  “Did y’all fight?”

  I shrugged. I sighed, dejection settling over me in a thick, unwelcome cloak. Familiar and hated, I wanted to step out from under it but couldn’t. I’d brought this current situation on myself.

  “Okay,” Kate said, her voice as shaky as I felt. “No talk of Cam. Um, do you want me to leave?”

  “No! I mean, please don’t. I get…it’s so quiet here.”

  She rested her hand on top of my clenched one next to the bag of donuts. “And you fall into your head.” She said the words with a conviction that cemented the kinship between us.

  Politely dismissing Kate would be smart.

  Why couldn’t I be smart?

  Because you’re lonely. And scared. Not just of Cam never speaking to you again, but of remaining alone—of never getting past your stupid decisions, no matter how far in the past they are.

  “Why don’t you come to the workshop? I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

  Kate trailed behind. I talked her through the current stage of the guitar and what I needed to accomplish today. She settled on a nearby stool, her eyes following my every move.

  “Why do you use such thin pieces?” she asked after I laid a second piece next to the first, using a roller to ensure no air bubbles remained between the two types of wood and the adhesive.

  “Because we don’t want the guitar to be too heavy. That would cause shoulder aches for the performer.”

  She hummed her understanding.

  The next time I needed the adhesive, she handed it to me. Once I’d set the wood, she pressed the roller into my hand.

  “You’re observant,” I said.

  “Not just about your process here.”

  I glanced up, catching her worried gaze.

  “I won’t ask,” she said. “But Cam… I saw him this morning. He looks at least as bad as you.”

  I dropped my eyes back to my work, biting the inside of my cheek. That’s why tears formed in my eyes. Not because I worried I’d lost him forever.

  “But since we’re not talking about him, why don’t you show me your process to onboard a new client? And then we can talk about ways to grow the business without straining you and your grandfather more time-wise.”

  “You think that’s possible?” I asked.

  Kate shrugged. “I won’t know anything until I get a better grasp of the business.”

  I led her from the shop. Focusing on work would help.

  And I needed to stay focused. This, my business, was important—the most important piece of my life. Cam, well, Cam would have to decide if he wanted to hear my explanation.

  18

  Cam

  I set my practice guitar to the side and settled my heels against the thick, white banister separating my porch from the garden below.

  “You come to tell me all about your day?” I asked Katie Rose.

  She picked up my tumbler and sniffed. With a wrinkled nose, she turned and threw the contents of the glass into the roses. Whiskey wouldn’t do the flowers any favors, but the liquor wasn’t helping my leg or the deep lashings in my heart.

  I couldn’t get Jenna’s words out of my head.

  She was like Kim. Just like the woman I married who broke my family.

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, swallowing down the bitter regret and the disgust for my inability to learn from my mistakes.

  “She’s as much of a mess as you. Well, maybe not. She didn’t get drunk. Just tried not to cry as she worked on your guitar today.”

  I absorbed what Katie Rose said—and the tone she said it in. “Don’t want to go into it.”

  “And I don’t want to be in the middle. But you’re both miserable and want to be with each other.”

  “Not if it’s toxic.”

  I flinched and yelped when Katie’s hand cracked against my arm. Closing my eyes proved just how much Jenna messed with my head. Katie Rose loved to wallop my arm.

  “What’s that for?”

  “So many things.” She scowled. “But I think I’m most annoyed that you’re thinking of Kim and overlaying that on Jenna.”

  I shook my head, opening my mouth to tell her.

  “Save it, big brother. I don’t want to hear you rip into a woman I happen to respect. Have you seen her work? I mean, the meticulousness she puts into every detail? She’s a freaking genius. I like Jenna. Even at twelve, I didn’t like Kim.”

  With that she turned on her heel and strode down my porch steps and back up the path toward the big house.

  “And for the record, I’m pretty sure this is all your fault. You’re the one who talked her into going to the concert and got her attacked. Her arms are black and blue and she kept wincing.”

  Katie Rose flounced off, once again proving she had to get in the last word. Granted, those words dug in deep, just like she intended.

  Each time I fell into slumber that night, Jenna’s somber eyes pulled me toward her and I woke with a start, resisting her and her history.

  She kept working on my guitar. Katie Rose sent a picture of it late the next afternoon. The instrument glowed, the edges seamless. Jenna proved her craftsmanship in each of the pieces she created.

  I missed her.

  My mother stopped by with a platter of hot fried chicken. My favorite. I bit into one of the legs with half-hearted enthusiasm.

  “You need to call your brother, Camden.”

  “Don’t see how that’ll help anything. He won’t talk to me. He didn’t even bother to come home for Dad’s funeral.”

  Mom’s lips rolled into her mouth and her eyes got a nasty, distant look in them. She pulled her phone from her purse and pressed a few buttons.

  “Hi, Carter. Thank you. Yes, I’m okay. But Camden isn’t. I’m going to put him on the phone and I want you to be honest with him.”

  My mama’s voice, combined with that look in her eye, made my guts twist hard in my stomach. I took the phone much as one did a live bomb. Getting it to my ear seemed to take forever.

  “Carter, so nice of you to talk to me again.”

  “Cut the shit, Cam. We both know Mama’s making me do it. And we both know you’re so bristly because of the woman you’ve been stepping out with. Did you break up with her because you almost got her killed?”

&
nbsp; That was the problem with a twin—I hadn’t seen him in almost five years, but he knew my habits and moods.

  I blew out a breath, trying to stream out the hurt I’d felt since Jenna told me the truth about Ben. “No. I would have though. Planned to. But… She turned out to be just like Kim.”

  Carter barked out a laugh. “I know not-one-thing about your new gal, but I know she’s nothing like your wife.”

  Now his words were like gutshot. “Did you screw her?” I asked.

  My mother shut her eyes and gripped the edge of the counter but didn’t walk away. Because she knew…she must know. As sure of it as I’d been—that this was the reason Carter refused to come home.

  “No.” His voice was emphatic. I could feel the glare sizzling through the phone line. “But I am the reason she died.” He swallowed hard, a thick rasp of emotion bubbling from his throat. “I should look you in the eye when I tell you this.”

  “You’d have to be willing to be in the same room as me—and you haven’t done that in years.”

  “Because I feel guilty!” Carter yelled. “I’m the one who threw Kim out.”

  I leaned back against my kitchen counter. “Naw. That was Dad.”

  Carter bit out a curse. “Dad was the one screwing Kim. I caught him. In the barn. Pants around his ankles.”

  My eyes slammed shut, trying to block out the image.

  “But…then…why did you leave?”

  “Kim had made advances toward me. I told her no. You were my brother—more importantly, my twin, which she said was why she wanted me. I turned her down in a not very nice way. There was no way I’d betray you like that, bro.”

  I’d hated thinking he had.

  Carter’s voice was soft, so full of sadness when he continued speaking. “Cam, the baby Kim carried…that was Dad’s kid.”

  I slid down to the floor. “What?”

  “He told me. After I caught them. Dad planned to run off with Kim. I said no way. Kim had to leave. I packed her up and drove her to the airport. I bought her a ticket to Las Vegas. Where her sister’s at.”

  Kim’s younger sister, Connie, made a great living as a burlesque dancer in Vegas.