Atticus
I WALK STRAIGHT OUT of the front door. The music and the lights fade as I head for my car, completely fazed.
Repulsive? Revolting? Crazy?
This entire time, has he really been viewing me this way while I’ve been planning a future with him?
I’m pathetic. I’ve kept my distance from the people in town in fear of being used, or just from genuine discontentment, for so long now that you’d think I’d have kept a wall up between Cameron and me.
But I didn’t. I allowed him complete access to my heart, my soul, my entire being, and he’s screwed me over. Betrayed me.
How do I recover from this? How am I meant to trust anyone ever again?
I mean, I even left Atlas’s eighteenth birthday dinner early to come to this stupid party—that’s how much I wanted Cameron to thrive. To be happy. To feel loved.
I couldn’t give two fucks about Kimberly, whose birthday can pass without my presence for all I care. But Cameron? I could never leave him hanging, even if it means making it up to my brother later.
And now, like an idiot, I’m fleeing with my heart shattered and my mind reeling.
“Atticus!” Cameron shouts, undoubtedly running down the front steps of Cassie’s house.
I quicken my pace, my BMW in sight.
“Stop, Atticus!” he shouts again, breathless and with a hint of fear in his voice.
Good. He deserves to feel regret. Or guilt.
“Go away, Cameron,” I respond coolly.
“No. Just… fuck, just stop!” A strong hand wraps around my bicep, and the feel of his skin on me, even through my jacket, burns.
It hurts.
“Don’t,” I hiss, yanking myself from his grip. “Go back inside. Go back to Grace, or continue your gossip session with Cassie. I’m out of here.”
“Please,” Cameron begs, hurrying around me to stand in my path. His eyes are wide and watery, and his hands are shaking. “Please just listen to me. It’s not what you think!”
“Oh, so you don’t think I’m controlling?” I laugh out, my own eyes narrowing on him.
Cameron flounders, his mouth opening and shutting several times.
“That’s what I thought,” I continue. “You think I’m some controlling, possessive man and that I’d lock some poor girl away in my castle.”
“Yes!” Cameron suddenly shouts. “I mean, wait, no! Kind of? But not like that. Please, understand it’s not like that.”
He’s full of so much desperation, so much longing that I almost break down and let him explain. I almost forgive him.
Almost.
“No, you understand me: I will not cater to you while you go behind my back and demean me. I will not take this from you or anybody else. I may be controlling, and I may be possessive, but I’m not a monster. I’m not repulsive.”
Cameron’s eyes soften, fresh tears building.
“Atticus,” he whispers, his tone full of regret and pain.
“Enough. I gave you…” I take a deep breath, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. To graze his cheek with my fingertips or wrap him in my jacket as he has lost his at some point. “I was willing to give you everything. All of me.”
“I want that,” he gasps. “I want… don’t go. Please.”
“I guess I should be thanking you,” I admit, moving around him to continue the trek to my car.
“Thanks for showing me how much of a colossal waste of my time this has been. That we were. And by the way,” I turn back to him, taking in his hurt expression.
“You would have been so lucky to rot away in my castle.”
“Waste… waste of time?” he murmurs, arms crossing as he grips his biceps against the cold. “That’s what we were?”
“It is now,” I tell him. “It definitely is now.”
“But I thought… I thought we had something.”
“Had something?” I spit out, glaring daggers at him. “You and me? No, Cameron. You’re going to return to your life as a Port Orford mechanic, and I’m going to find some high-class woman to hide away in my dark, scary castle. Just as it should be. Clearly, we were never meant to have something.”
And with that, I turn, and I walk away.
Cameron does not follow.
I will never, never allow another so close to my heart. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, I no longer have one.
I’m done.