Chapter 15 Camryn
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
camryn
Morning light spills through the window, painting golden streaks across Storm's sleeping face.
His features are relaxed in sleep, softer than the hard lines he shows the world.
I trace the stubble along his jaw with my fingertips, still marveling that this man, this fierce, protective storm of a man, is mine.
Last night changed everything.
Standing in that warehouse, rain hammering on the metal roof, thunder shaking the walls, I faced both my fears head-on: Eric and the storm itself. And somehow, with Storm beside me, neither seemed as terrifying as they once did.
When Eric lunged for me, spitting venom and rage, there was a moment, brief but crystal in its clarity, when I saw him for what he truly is: not a monster, not the boogeyman who's haunted my nightmares for eight years, but just a man. A pathetic, desperate man with no real power over me.
And in that moment, I was free.
Storm stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as his eyes flutter open. Blue and clear as a sky washed clean by rain.
"Morning," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. "You watching me again?"
I smile, caught in my observation. "Maybe. You're nice to look at."
He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "How are you feeling? After everything last night..."
I consider the question seriously, taking stock of my emotional state. The fear that's been my constant companion for so long feels... different. Not gone entirely, I doubt it ever will be, but transformed into something manageable, something that no longer controls me.
"Better," I answer honestly. "Like I can breathe deeper than before."
He studies my face, searching for any sign of lingering trauma. "No regrets? About being there?"
"None," I assure him. "I needed to face him, to see for myself that he's just a man, not the monster I built up in my mind."
Storm nods, understanding. He traces circles on my back, a soothing gesture that's become familiar. "You were incredible, Camryn. Standing there, facing him down after everything he did to you..." He shakes his head slightly, something like awe in his expression. "Brave doesn't begin to cover it."
"I had you with me," I remind him, because it's important he understands his role in my strength. "Knowing you were there, that you had my back... it made all the difference."
"I'll always have your back," he promises, the words a vow more solemn than any ring or ceremony could be. "You and Emily both."
Emily. My sweet girl, who slept peacefully through the night at Tavia's, blissfully unaware that her mother was confronting the biological father she's never met. The father who will never be part of her life now, a decision cemented in blood and threats last night.
"We should pick her up soon," I say, reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of Storm's arms but eager to see my daughter. "She'll be wondering where we are."
"Mmm," Storm agrees, though he makes no move to release me. "In a minute. I'm enjoying this moment."
I smile, settling back against his chest. This is still so new, the simple pleasure of waking up together, of quiet morning intimacy that doesn't necessarily lead to sex. I'm still adjusting to having someone to share these moments with, someone who wants to linger just because we're together.
"Did you hear?" Storm asks after a comfortable silence. "It's supposed to be clear for Halloween tonight. Perfect weather for trick-or-treating."
"Emily will be thrilled," I say, thinking of the butterfly costume she's been planning for months. "She's been so worried she wouldn't get to wear her wings."
"All the kids are coming to the clubhouse," Storm reminds me. "Everyone’s excited for trick-or-treating."
"What about you?" I ask, curious. "Are you dressing up?"
A slow smile spreads across his face, mischievous in a way that makes my heart skip. "Maybe. I might have something planned." He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. "What about you? Butterfly to match Emily?"
I laugh, picturing myself with glittery wings. "I hadn't thought about it. I’ve been a little preoccupied with, you know, confronting my traumatic past and all that."
His expression softens, fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Fair enough. But maybe it would be good to celebrate tonight, embrace the holiday spirit. A way of marking the end of one chapter and the beginning of another."
"You're right," I agree. "And I think I know just what to dress as."
"Care to share?"
I shake my head, smiling mysteriously. "You'll have to wait and see."
He growls playfully, rolling us so I'm pinned beneath him. "I have ways of making you talk, you know."
"Oh?" I challenge, breathless as his weight settles comfortably on me. "I'd like to see you try."
His mouth finds mine, and for a while, conversation is forgotten entirely.
Emily twirls in front of the mirror, her princess dress flowing as she twirls. The costume is even more elaborate than I'd planned originally, thanks to Effie's expert sewing skills and Storm's surprising talent for detail work. She’s got a tiara, and jewelry to match.
"I'm the prettiest princess ever!" she declares, face alight with joy.
"The most beautiful," I agree, adjusting the tiara on her head. "Without a doubt the most beautiful," Storm says from the doorway, watching us with a soft expression I'm still getting used to, the look he reserves solely for Emily and me.
He's dressed as a pirate again, complete with a billowing white shirt, leather vest, and red bandana tied around his head. The costume should look ridiculous on a man his size, with his intimidating presence, but somehow he makes it work. The fake sword at his hip doesn't hurt either.
"Storm!" Emily exclaims, running to him, wings bobbing. "You look like a real pirate!"
He scoops her up, careful not to damage her costume. "And you look like a real princess, squirt.”
She giggles again, delighted by his attention. In just a few weeks, he's become such an integral part of her world, filling spaces I hadn't realized were empty. The ease between them, the natural way they interact, still amazes me.
"Where's your costume, Mom?" Emily asks, suddenly noticing I'm still in my regular clothes.
"It's a surprise," I tell her. "I'll change while you and Storm start trick-or-treating. I'll catch up with you in a little bit."
"Promise?" she asks, suddenly anxious at the thought of separation. Despite her resilience, despite the joy of recent days, there's still that underlying fear of abandonment, of loss, that I suspect will take longer to fade than my own trauma.
"I promise," I assure her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll find you before you get to the third block. Save some candy for me."
This satisfies her, and she wriggles to be put down, eager to begin the night's adventures.
"You sure you don't want us to wait?" Storm asks quietly as Emily collects her trick-or-treat bag.
"I'm sure. This is your first Halloween together. I want you to have some time just the two of you." I reach up to straighten his bandana. "Besides, my costume is a surprise for both of you."
Curiosity flashes in his eyes, but he doesn't press. "Alright then. But if you're not with us by the Henderson house, I'm coming back to find you."
I smile, touched by his protectiveness even now, when the threats have been neutralized. "I'll be there."
After they leave, the room feels suddenly quiet. I take a moment to absorb the stillness, to appreciate how different the quality of the silence is now. No longer tense with fear and watchfulness, but peaceful. Safe.
Then I turn to the costume laid out on the bed, my heart quickening with anticipation.
I find them halfway down the street, Emily's princess dress visible from a block away as she darts from house to house, Storm a watchful shadow behind her. The neighborhood is alive with children in costumes, parents chatting on sidewalks, and jack-o'-lanterns glowing from porches.
Normal. Ordinary. Beautiful.
Storm spots me first, his expression changing from vigilant to stunned as he takes in my costume. I approach slowly, suddenly uncertain despite the careful thought I've put into this choice.
I'm dressed as a storm cloud—a flowing gray dress that shimmers with subtle silver threads, small LED lights sewn throughout to represent lightning, my hair styled with strands of silver. Not overtly costumey, but the meaning unmistakable.
"Camryn," he breathes when I reach them, his eyes taking in every detail.
"Mom!" Emily exclaims, running up to me. "You're a storm cloud! That's so cool!"
"Do you like it?" I ask Storm, suddenly anxious. "I thought it was fitting, after everything... A reminder that not all storms are destructive. Some are necessary. Cleansing."
His hand comes up to cup my face, his eyes suspiciously bright. "It's perfect," he says simply, voice rough with emotion.
Emily tugs at my dress, oblivious to the moment passing between us. "Look how much candy I got already! And Storm scared Mr. Mickelson when he tried to give me those yucky peanut butter things you don't let me have."
"Did he now?" I ask, grateful for the interruption, for Emily's uncomplicated joy pulling us back from the brink of too much emotion on a public street.
"I just reminded him that some kids have allergies," Storm says innocently, though the gleam in his eye tells a different story. "Firmly."
I laugh, imagining the scene, poor Mr. Mickelson confronted by a pirate-costumed Storm in full protective mode over candy choices. "I'm sure you were very persuasive."
We continue down the street, Emily running ahead to the next house, Storm and I following at a softer pace, his arm around my waist, my head occasionally leaning against his shoulder.
"You know," he says after a few houses, "most people are afraid of storms."
"I was," I acknowledge, understanding where he's going. "For a long time."
"But not anymore?"