Chapter 24
Cameron
I turn over again, desperate for some relief, but facing the wall keeps me from looking at the window, and for some reason, looking at the window makes me feel like I might know if something changes.
Like the value of the darkness outside, which might see a sudden beam of light come through, courtesy of a truck coming home from wherever it is.
Sammy wasn’t home when I got back from dropping Mars’ bike off at his house, and though darkness had fallen by that time, I’d tried not to worry too much.
What happened in that meadow had been...
intense and complicated, and I’d stayed in the meadow just to try to wrap my head around it.
I was worried that things would change between us and that she’d come down the mountain and immediately regret making herself so vulnerable to me, and I’d spent much of the ride home trying to convince myself that everything would be okay.
I assume she was going through the same, the world shifting around her as it had me and her idea of what we could be getting rewritten.
At least I hope so. I hope she decided that she can trust me and that everything will be okay, rather than the opposite.
God, I hope she was thinking at all, rather than getting overstimulated and running the way she has so many times before.
I roll over, the thought too uncomfortable to sit with, but now I’m facing the wall again and it feels wrong. Unsafe. Exposed.
I’ve always been a bit claustrophobic, probably because I spent so much time in the attic above my mother’s room, so facing the wall has always felt dangerous to me, like I’m trapped. But right now, the problem is the need to see out the window. Watch the driveway.
Pray for her to come home.
I tried tracking her phone but she has the tracking off–of course–and when I called, she didn’t answer. I pull out my phone and call again now, hoping for a different result. Maybe she was driving before and didn’t want to be on the phone. Or she was in a place with bad service.
The call rings through to her voicemail, though, and I growl in frustration.
She never goes to any of her spots at night, and I’ve never actually lost her after dark like this. Usually, the girl is at home before the sun goes down, tucked up in bed or on the couch watching TV, so I don’t know how what to do with this after-dark absence.
And I can’t stop my brain from thinking that something’s wrong.
That she’s in trouble.
I get out of bed and pad downstairs to the kitchen, where I can at least distract myself making hot chocolate. I’m surprised to find the light on and Bear already in there, though, his head stuck in the refrigerator and his legs clad in pajama bottoms.
I almost turn and walk out again, because I’ve gone out of my way not to be alone with the man since we moved back in here. I don’t hate him, but I also don’t like him, and I’m philosophically opposed to spending time with someone who’s hurt both me and Sammy so badly.
And despite that, I find myself standing on his side when it comes to this town and their war against him, because Sammy’s idea that he’s ours has seeped into my head and found a hold.
I don’t like many of the things he’s done throughout my life, and I don’t know how much I can trust him, but I can’t shake the thought that he’s my father, and that he did finally come home to us.
He stands up and sees me while I’m doing all this thinking, and lifts both eyebrows. “She home yet?”
“No,” I mutter, sliding onto one of the bar stools at the counter.
He grunts. “You worried?”
This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.
“Yes.”
A quick nod from him, like that was what he was expecting–which, of course it was, because he’s seen how close Sammy and I are. He knows we never go anywhere without each other. Me being worried wouldn’t have been a surprise.
That doesn’t mean anything.
“I don’t like it,” he says finally. “I don’t want her out at night by herself. Too many tourists in town.”
Well.
That statement does mean something, and I rethink my opinion about the conversation. Still strange, but more important, now. He’s never said anything about wanting to protect Sammy before.
Is he... starting to like her?
“I don’t like it either,” I grunt. “She never stays out after dark. This feels wrong.”
This earns a long, considering look from him. “Any idea where she might be? Could we find her?”
We.
Could we find her.
Because he’s worried about her too, and that puts us on the same team. That gives us common ground that I didn’t see coming. What’s more, he’s not saying that he’s going to go find her or that I should stay here in case she comes home, or any of that bullshit.
He’s saying we should go find her.
And that shouldn’t make me feel like laughing and crying at the same time, like he’s reached in and started to heal a part of me I didn’t know was wounded, but my eyes are suddenly wet and my tongue feels thick and unwieldy.
What the fuck is going on in this kitchen right now?
“Cam?” he prods.
Cam.
He’s never called me Cam in my life.
I can’t believe I’m sitting here in my mother’s old kitchen getting emotional at the fact that my father is using my nickname, but here we are.
And, I remember, we can’t stay here. We have to get out into the night and find Sammy, because she’s out after dark with her phone off, and that doesn’t make any sense.
My instincts have been screaming for the last half hour that something is wrong, and if Bear’s face is any indication, his have as well.
We need to go find her.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I say quickly. “She doesn’t go out at night, and if she does, I’m with her and we’re doing something specific. I can’t imagine that she’s at the movies on her own, or at the bar. Maybe she went to see Taryn?”
He points at my quickly. “That makes sense. Taryn is her good friend. I bet she’s there.”
He’s moving for his keys before I can grab my own, though that’s partially because I’m sitting here shocked at the agreement, something in my heart singing some kind of insane song at the feeling of having won approval from my father.
I feel like a little kid who just got an A on a spelling test, and though half of me hates it, the other half is screaming that it’s about fucking time he started paying attention.
I jump up and follow him out the door, hoping we find Sammy sooner rather than later so I can tell her I connected with Bear and it’s all because of her.
When I get into the driveway though, I find him on his phone, his face intense and his mouth caught in a grim line in the moonlight.
“Yes, we’re on our way. I have my son with me and I’ll call my cousin for backup.
” He pauses. “Right. No, don’t send anyone.
” He hangs up, dials another number, and puts the phone to his ear.
“Mars? Yes, can I call in a favor? There’s trouble at Penny Royal’s, those bikers again, and I don’t want to go in there alone.
” He listens for a moment, then breaks out in a grin. “Thank you.”
When he ends the call, the grin dies. He looks at me, his face full of realization. “Trouble at the bar. The bikers.”
“Sammy,” I agree, with this new ability to know what he’s thinking without him finishing a thought.
“Sammy,” he says, and we run for his car, both of us intent on the same mission: Find Sammy.
Bring her home.
And lecture her about going out after dark by herself.