Kingston
Something is off with Camden. He didn’t say much during dinner, and his mom was definitely upset too. My mom thought it’s just the normal emotions of the day, but I think there’s something else going on.
When we get out to the big-ass party for our graduating class, all I want to do is question Camden, but of course, everyone else is around. There’s booze and a fire, as usual. Even some people are playing their guitars.
Kennedy is here and actually not giving me the death stare but also not paying attention to me either, which is exactly how I like it. But the second I can get Camden to the side, away from everyone else, I take the opportunity and pull him away from the party, leaning on the hood of my truck.
“What’s going on?”
He won’t look at me, that broody angry look on his face he sometimes has.
I don’t understand it. He should be on top of the world today.
He did it. He graduated, and he got a scholarship.
Everything he’s wanted is about to happen for him.
He’s clutching a whiskey bottle, which isn’t really out of the ordinary, except he takes a huge gulp from it.
That’s not like him at all. He sips. Hell, he even usually has a water bottle with him to hydrate in case he has to leave early. He’s the most responsible eighteen-year-old I know.
“Camden. What’s wrong? Talk to me.” I take the risk and touch his shoulder, even though touching him physically hurts because I want to do so much more.
He takes another big-ass gulp of whiskey, and now I know something is wrong. He takes another, and I steal the bottle from him, earning myself a glare.
“Talk. To. Me.”
“She’s pregnant,” he says quietly, but there’s a deadly edge to his tone. He’s so damn angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this mad.
“Who?”
He takes the whiskey bottle back and takes a long, slow pull from it, his throat flexing as he swallows. I know he’s going to feel this tomorrow. There’s no way he won’t. He’s not used to drinking this much.
“Cam. Please. Who’s pregnant?”
He wipes the back of his mouth with his sleeve, still clutching the bottle, but he lowers it to his side. “My mom. She’s pregnant. Again.”
“What?” It’s all I can manage in a quiet whisper because how could she do this to him? How?
“She’s pregnant, and she isn’t even going to tell the father.
She’s not even going to try to get his help because she has me.
” He raises his arms in the air, the whiskey sloshing around in the bottle, but he’s drunk enough that it doesn’t spill.
“She knows she has me too. It’s not like I have a future.
Or fucking college eight hours away. No. ”
Yeah, he’s really mad. And he has every right to be mad. “This is not on you. You don’t have to do anything for her.”
He laughs darkly, sniffing. “Bullshit. Everything is always on me.”
It’s a truth we both know, but one I’ve never heard him ever speak out loud. He’s always just taken it in stride, but I knew it had to bug him. I knew that deep down, it kills him that he couldn’t ever just be a kid.
He deserved that. I place my hands on his shoulders and look into his eyes. “You don’t have to take this on. You’re going to college.”
He laughs again, so lost and broken and sad. “We both know I’m not. She can’t do this on her own. I was worried about her taking care of Lucy alone. But now, there’s going to be a baby.”
“Not your baby.” I’m so goddamn mad at his mom and frustrated with him for being so selfless. “You deserve to go to school to have your own life. You don’t have to be everyone’s keeper all the time, Camden. You can’t do that.”
“What am I supposed to do? He left. My dad left, and she had no one.”
“You’re her kid,” I say firmly. Maybe I should have done it years ago, but I know how stubborn he is. “Not her husband. Not her caretaker. She should have taken care of you.”
He waves me off, swaying slightly on his feet, the booze now hitting him. “That’s not how this works, not with my family, and you know it.”
I do know it. And it’s so fucking sad.
“Come on.” I take the bottle of whiskey from him, leaving it behind for other partygoers, and walk him to my car. By the time I tuck him into the passenger seat, he’s nearly passed out, mumbling something.
I drive him to his house and help him into his bed, the rage boiling through me as I sweep his hair out of his eyes and tuck him in. He looks so young and vulnerable when he sleeps. It’s the only time he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else.
And then I leave his room in search of his mother.
She wasn’t in the living room when we got here, and I see Lucy’s night light on in her room, seeing her sleeping when I peek in.
Tracy’s bedroom door is open, and I knock carefully, not really wanting to be near her bedroom. I don’t want to scare her or anything.
When she doesn’t answer, I go out to the back of the house where I know she hangs out. That’s where I find her, sitting in her rocking chair, reading on her Kindle. She looks up, worry crossing her puffy eyes. She’s definitely been crying.
“Kingston? Is Camden okay?”
I shake my head. “No.” She starts to get up, fear taking over her. But I shake my head and take the chair next to hers. “He’s going to stay if you don’t do something.”
“Stay?”
I huff angrily, trying to keep my calm. “Stay. Here. Where he hates it. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go to KU. He wants to go to college, and you need to make sure he goes.”
Tears fall down her face, but I don’t feel sympathy for her, not right now. I’m so angry at her for doing this to him. “I never asked him to stay.”
“You won’t tell the father of the baby you’re pregnant. You can’t do this alone, and he knows it. He’s so goddamn good that he’ll stay. You know he will. Unless you do something.”
She wipes at her cheek, choked up. “What can I do?”
“You can tell the father and make him help. You can at least try.”
She shakes her head sadly, more tears falling. “I can’t do that to him. He doesn’t want kids.”
“Camden is a kid.” I’m still trying to keep my voice down.
“He never got to be a kid though. Ever. When we were all fucking around and doing whatever we wanted, he was helping you. With Lucy. With money. Everything. We used to give him a hard time for cleaning the house when we were playing video games because we didn’t understand.
” I touch my chest, my eyes pleading with her.
“We didn’t get it because we were kids. Oakley and me.
Dean. We were kids. Camden never got to have that. ”
“I . . .” she sobs. “I know. I hate it.”
“So fix it.” I can’t let her off the hook about this.
I’ve held my tongue for so long. “You were both dealt shitty hands, that’s for damn sure, but he’s your kid.
You need to be the adult, and you need to make sure he gets to live his own life.
He won’t go unless he feels like you’re taken care of. ”
“I don’t think I can make him go.”
“You can. And you will. You’re his mom. Be his mom.” I stand up, my voice wobbling because this isn’t fucking fair. I want to fix this for him. “He was so happy today. And then, he wasn’t. He was so broken and sad because he thinks he has to stay here. You can’t do that to him.”
“What about you?”
I fold my arms over my chest, looking at her, sitting in her chair. “What do you mean?”
“You’re really going to let him go? You think he’s going to be able to walk away?”
I drop my arms and stand taller. “I love him. I always have, and it’s what’s best for him. So yes, I’ll let him go, and you need to as well. If you need help, I’ll be here. But you need to be the mom for once.”
“Hey.” She tries to get defensive, but I shake my head.
“No. You need to, and you know it. You haven’t been fair to him. And you know that too.”
She doesn’t argue. Just nods her head solemnly, and I go back inside. When I reach Camden’s bedroom, I strip out of my t-shirt and jeans. I climb into bed with him, wearing my boxer briefs and cuddling up to his body.
I hold him and listen to his steady breaths, knowing tomorrow is going to be hell for him. Hangovers are brutal without all the added stress. And I just hope his mom does the right thing.
He needs this chance, and I’ll make sure he gets it, whether she does or not.