Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
TALLY
Three days now. No water left. No hope either.
I'm hallucinating—Cameron stands right in front of me, clear as day.
I reach for him, but my fingers pass through empty air.
Then I see little Brinley wobbling toward me on unsteady legs.
Yeah right. Like a toddler would be out here alone on this godforsaken trail.
Nothing to do but replay my life's greatest hits and, believe it or not, pray.
Something inside me knows there's gotta be more than this.
Maybe it's some glowing Jesus-looking dude with his arms wide open, or maybe it's one of those goddesses Lilith's always going on about—Brigid or whatever.
Something's out there. Has to be. Otherwise, how do you explain the cosmic joke where some people get dealt royal flushes while others get nothing but garbage hands?
Rich kids born with silver spoons, while others dodge bullets in war zones or starve in the same damn country where people throw away enough food to feed them ten times over.
If this is all there is, the universe has one sick sense of humor.
I stare at the top of a pine tree until it blurs, then squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hey, dude in the sky. We haven't exactly been on speaking terms since the Wilsons hauled my ass to church every damn Sunday when I was twelve. Even then I was mostly checking out that hot skater boy in the front pew instead of giving you thanks or whatever. Sorry about that.” My broken leg throbs like a bastard now that the adrenaline's wearing off.
No hikers. No rescue. Just me at the bottom of this ravine.
"Listen, God, Universe, whoever's tuned to this channel—I make it out alive, I'll get my shit together.
No more running when things get real. I swear it. "
Jesus Christ, I'm such an idiot! Is this really how it ends for me? Shit, I thought I had decades left to get my act together. To find that perfect guy who'd step up for Brinley. Someone I could actually build something real with, who'd make me want to be better.
Cameron would've been perfect, damn it, but that ship has sailed. Still, I’d love to find someone like him—a guy who'd croon lullabies in that deep, slightly raspy voice, who'd make pancakes shaped like dinosaurs, who'd remember exactly how much cream I take in my coffee without asking.
Someone who'd fight for me if it came to that.
Who'd teach Brinley to ride a bike without training wheels, who'd sit on her bed at midnight when some teenage asshole breaks her heart, who'd say, "Listen, kiddo, about those raves your mom's warning you about?
Trust me, I've patched up enough ODs to know she's right for once. "
Someone to balance me out—steady when I'm a hurricane, gentle when I'm all sharp edges. Brinley deserves that good cop/bad cop tag team. Every kid does. Christ, if I don't find her someone like Cameron, she's stuck with just me, the bad cop, and my chaos, and I'll screw her up beyond repair.
Dammit. Now it's too late.
It's all too late…
If I die here, at least Brinley will have Cameron and Willow. A real family. Maybe she'll forget me completely—hell, maybe that's better. No confusing "this is Willow, your new mom, but remember your real mom?" bullshit.
I squeeze my eyes shut and picture my baby girl running through Cam's Brentwood mansion—the one Celeste won't shut up about.
All those uncles doting on her. Celeste not just playing auntie, but actually being Aunt Celeste by marriage.
No more cramped house with me. No more mac and cheese three nights a week when money gets tight. No fucking chaos.
Who am I kidding? Somebody else might’ve wanted to pretend I never existed. Start fresh with Willow. Happens all the time.
But not Cam. He' s not that guy.
Never that guy...