Chapter 14 #2
I lift my chin, meeting Luke’s gaze head-on, but it’s Cam I look at when I speak. My eyes soften, filling with the kind of admiration his family can’t miss.
“It’s useful,” I say quietly. “Cam has more strength than anyone I know. My memory just clears the clutter so he can keep showing it.”
Cam squeezes my hand, smug pride written all over him. “She sees everything.”
Hana presses her palms together, eyes shining. “And she sees you, Cameron.”
Erik leans back, his voice quieter now, touched with something almost tender. “When you look at him… what is it you see?”
The question feels loaded with right answers and relationship landmines. But I look at Cam and honesty flows easier than breathing.
"Someone who learned early that being the entertainer meant people wouldn't look too closely at the hurting places. Someone who's terrified that without being useful, being strong, being on, he won't be worth loving."
Cam goes very still.
"Someone who forgets conversations but never forgets kindness. May not remember yesterday's lunch but remembers exactly how to make me feel safe when I'm scared. Who thinks his worth depends on what he does for others instead of who he is."
My voice gentles. "And someone who's healing. Maybe not fast enough for his liking, maybe not in ways that show up on medical tests, but healing. Getting stronger. Learning he doesn't have to earn his place in the world."
The table falls quiet. Hana's eyes shine suspiciously bright. Luke stares like I just performed neurosurgery with a butter knife.
Erik nods slowly. "And what do you see when you look at Tara, Cam?"
Cam answers, voice choked with emotion. “The woman I can’t afford to forget. Not ever.”
"Well," Hana declares, dabbing her eyes with her napkin, "I hereby officially approve this relationship."
"Mom," Luke protests, but he's smiling.
"What? She's perfect for Cam. Look how he straightens when she talks. Look how she watches him without making him feel observed. This is what love actually looks like."
Erik clears his throat. "Love is—"
"Complicated when brain injury's involved," I finish. "I know. But it's also why he's improving instead of declining. Purpose matters. Connection matters. Being valued for who you are, not just what you produce—that matters too."
I meet his steady gaze. "I'm not a medical personnel. I can't fix what's wrong with his brain. But I can love what's right with his heart. Sometimes that's the medicine that matters most."
Erik studies me for a moment, then does something unexpected. He smiles—genuinely warm and approving.
“Cam,” he says, using the nickname with affection, “she’s good for you. And I can see you’re good for her, too.”
And just like that, my six-foot-three hockey player lights up like Christmas morning. The grin that spreads across his face is pure joy, boyish and unguarded.
"She is, isn't she?" He looks at me like I hung the moon. "I can't believe she puts up with me."
"Cameron," Hana sighs fondly, "you're such a sap."
"The sappiest," he agrees cheerfully, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Lucky for me, she likes saps."
Relief floods through me so fast it's dizzying. I passed. Somehow, impossibly, I passed the Wilder family inspection.
“Alright, let’s shake on it, Dad. No more ‘come hail or lightning’ summons to drag me back to Texas.”
Erik stands up and pumps Cam’s hand. "Alright, deal. But we’re staying a few days anyways. Get a better sense of your routine, support system in this town.”
‘This is good!” Hana announces. “I’d love to check out those little shops around this quaint town this afternoon. Let’s go shopping, Tara.”
Cam’s expression is caught between mortification and affection. His mother’s already plotting girls’ days and probably scouting wedding venues.
“I want to hear everything about this town that captured my son’s heart. Oh! Isn’t the original Winslow Confections store here? Their shop in Fort Worth is always packed. Sugar Jar, right?”
I laugh softly. “That’s Candy Jar you’re thinking of. They are huge! Lily Johansen took it big—rebranded as Winslow Confections after her dad. They’re everywhere now, but around here? It’s still the heart of the town. Same recipes, same small-town soul… just wrapped for the world.”
“She’s actually Levi’s wife, Mom,” Cam adds with a grin, the quick quip landing like proof his memory’s just fine.
Hana’s eyes light up. “Oh, what a small world! I’d love to talk with her about my little banchan shops. Maybe pick her brain on how to scale.”
Luke elbows Cam with a grin. “Bro, maybe you and I should hit Mega Max Velocity Park. Have a race. Settle some old scores.”
Erik chuckles, leaning back. “Hey, your old man might join in. Picked up a move or two during Desert Storm. When you’re stuck in the desert on downtime, you learn to make those Humvees do things they probably shouldn’t.”
Before Cam can sign up, I step in quickly.
“Actually…” I keep my tone light but firm.
“In my humble opinion, that might not be the best idea right now. The noise, the overload—it can be too much for him.”
A flicker of color rises in both their faces, father and son caught off guard. And just like that, I realize—I’ve passed the ultimate test. They don’t see me as an outsider anymore. They see me as Cam’s.
Or, Cam’s mine.
I am still smiling over this thought when my phone rings unceremoniously.
The number on my screen turns my blood to slush.
One I recognize. One I haven't seen in months. One burned into my perfect, terrible memory.
"Excuse me," I say, pushing back from the table. "I need to take this."
Cam's eyes sharpen with concern, but I force brightness. "I’ll be right back."
I step onto the hotel's covered terrace, mountain air crisp against suddenly flushed skin. Around me, Cedar Falls continues its peaceful morning routine—tourists browsing, locals walking dogs, the kind of scene that makes you believe everything will be fine.
I answer on the fifth ring.
"Lyn? It's Max."
His voice is clipped, stripped of the easy charm I know. Traffic hisses behind him, like he’s calling from a corner instead of his usual corner office.
Maximus Delacroix—middle child, eternal peacemaker between my oldest half-brother, Laurent's ambition and my rebellion.
"Max." I sink into a terrace chair, legs suddenly unsteady. "What's wrong?"
"I don't have much time," he says, "Listen carefully. Lucien's completely off the rails."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"
"I heard he's been bragging about 'handling the situation.' Dad doesn't know the extent—thinks Lucien's just tracking you to bring you home. But it's much worse, Lyn. Much worse."
I close my eyes, my carefully built normalcy already feeling fragile. "What’s worse? How much worse?"
“He’s unstable, Lyn. Not just paranoid—he’s fixated.
One day he’s bragging to associates that you’ll ‘be dealt with soon,’ the next he’s pacing the office asking me just how good your memory is.
He repeats himself like he’s trying to convince his own brain.
People are starting to avoid him—his charm’s gone, all that’s left is this wild edge. ”
I close my eyes, trying to focus. I don’t tell Max that Lucien’s already been showing up in town. No need to send him into panic.
"What I might remember?" The words taste hollow but I need to make sure. "Max, I haven't been involved in company business for years."
"I don’t think that's how he sees it. He thinks you have proof of his dealings. Maybe you saw something. Your... gift makes him nervous."
Of course. My eidetic memory. In a family where information is currency, remembering everything is either an asset or a loaded gun.
“You know how he is with Dad—always too smooth, too agreeable, like he’s rehearsing loyalty.
But at the last board meeting, the second Dad stepped out, Lucien leaned in and whispered that he’s the one who knows how to protect the family.
It’s slippery. Dangerous. Like he’s playing both sides of a chessboard. ”
“There’s something,” I say slowly. “Not about core Delacroix operations—something peripheral. I’d briefly traced transfers through subsidiaries tied to Lucien. A lot of the cash routes look…dirty. Offshore channels, odd wire patterns. If Father ever sees that, Lucien’s got some explaining to do.”
“There must be more to it. Will you dig deeper, Lyn? See if he’s been moving pieces—transferring money, calling in favors, that sort of thing. If you find anything concrete, I’ll take it to Dad and we’ll handle it properly.”
“Max, I don’t want to be involved.”
“But you already are, Lyn. What if he comes after you for real? He’s desperate. And you know better than anyone—Lucien doesn’t play by rules. He makes them up as he goes, and .
I shiver at the memory of being pushed down the stairs but I don’t have the heart to tell Max what’s already going on here.
Through Cedar Grounds' glass doors, I watch the Wilders and Cam at our table. Hana laughing at something Cam said, face bright with joy. Erik is smiling too—not professional courtesy, but genuine warmth. Luke stealing bites of his brother's breakfast, getting swatted away.
It’s perfect. Everything I didn’t know I wanted—acceptance, belonging, the promise of being part of something good and real and safe.
Because I know the other version of this. Parents who watch every move with the same intensity, but not to celebrate it—to control it.
My dad loves me, I never doubted that. But his love has always been the kind that smothers while calling it protection, that holds you so tightly you stop being able to breathe. He thinks keeping me close means keeping me safe, when really it just meant keeping me his.
The Wilders hover too, but I can feel the difference. Their questions are concern, not surveillance. Their presence is weight, not chains.
And I know how quickly Lucien can turn the Wilders into leverage. He’ll torch everything I’ve found here. My new life—he’ll destroy it.
"Max," I say quietly, "what else do you know?"