Chapter 29
Sammy
I lay back in the grass, my fingers wrapped in daisies, and stare at the clouds above me, trying to put shapes to them.
Cameron and I have played this game since we first found this meadow, and it’s always calmed my mind.
Given me something to think about aside from the never-ending noise of the world around us.
But right now, it’s not working.
Because I can’t seem to turn the voices off, and I don’t like what they’re saying.
Last night, Cameron and Bear changed my life.
Hell, for the last twelve years, Cameron’s been changing my life, and Bear has colored my world since the day he stepped into it.
Not always for the better, but he’s been there forever, a presence in the background.
And between the three of us last night, we shifted the entire timeline.
I felt emotions I’ve never felt before, and I still can’t figure out how to hold onto them.
They’re clouds I can’t grasp, if clouds also have teeth and claws and fire.
They’re eels that slither out of my fingers, wildflowers I can’t pick, dandelions that explode before I breathe on them.
I feel as though I’m being ripped apart from the inside, and while I should be feeling loved and protected, the way I did last night, instead, I feel. ..
Disrupted? No, that’s not right.
Betrayed? Definitely not.
I feel itchy, like there’s something under my skin that I can’t get to.
Only it’s not under my skin, it’s in my heart, and I don’t have a prayer of reaching that deep into my body to soothe the burn of whatever it is.
I can’t sit still, which is why I’m up the mountain my by myself–alone again–but now that I’m here, this isn’t quite right, either.
I’m overstimulated, but that’s nothing new.
I’ve spent most of my life with too many thoughts and not enough ways to soothe them, and I’m used to finding a way to put them all back into their boxes.
But none of my tricks are working today, and I’m not okay with it.
I sit up, frustrated, and pick another handful of daisies.
I lay them in my lap, take an intentional breath, and start to weave them together.
Daisy, weave, tie. Daisy, weave, tie. Before long I have a crown and I put it on my head, settling it down amongst the curls.
They’re even wilder today, courtesy of the constant breeze around me–and the fact that I didn’t brush my hair this morning–and I smile a bit at how I must look.
Crazy girl sits in the field by herself, flowers in her hair and curls trying to eat her head.
Not exactly the title of a brilliant painting.
I look up at the clouds again, trying to focus. The cloud right above me is tall and thin, with bulges and a rounded part at the top, and as I stare at it, it becomes a figure. Those are hands there, with fingers stretching out, and the legs are there. Body, chest, shoulders. It all works.
That’s a man.
And as I stare at it, it becomes more than a man. It’s Cameron. No, it’s Bear.
No, it’s Cameron.
I yank my eyes way, annoyed. The cloud game is supposed to be a way out of reality, not a way for reality to intrude into my dreams.
The problem is, I don’t trust any of this. Yes, Cameron and Bear adjusted my whole universe last night, and yes, I know I love both of them.
But I’ve loved people before, and that’s never meant anything.
I loved my mother more than life itself, and it didn’t mean I got to keep her.
I’ll remember the day we found her for the rest of my life, I think, and I’ll never get over the sight of it.
Cameron and I had been on the mountain camping, and had come home sunburned and windblown, our faces flushed with our first overnight adventure together and our brains full of plans for the future.
And then we walked into the house and found my mother on the floor of the kitchen, her eyes wide open and staring. Beside her lay a glass of spilled water and a pill bottle I didn’t recognize.
Later, we found out it was the pain medication the doctor had prescribed for her back pain. She’d been hoarding it for months, dealing with the pain and holding onto the medication for an end she’d been planning for longer than anyone realized.
She waited for us to leave for our adventure, then walked into the kitchen, took thirty pills, and washed them down with water. And she did it when we were going to be gone for two days, so we wouldn’t find her until it was too late.
I’d been fourteen, and I hadn’t understood any of it.
I’d thought my mother was the sweetest woman in the world, her voice gentle and her smile quick, and if she’d been a bit melancholy, I’d put it down to the way the world went.
She’d never said anything about being unhappy or needing anything, and Cameron and I had been too young to guess at such a thing.
It took me two years to figure out how to live without her, and I still feel her ghost when I smell pears–her favorite fruit–or catch her favorite movie on TV.
I will never understand why she couldn’t stay for me, and it broke my trust for anyone else being any better.
So, although I want to believe in Cameron and Bear, want to take what they’re offering and hold it with both hands, clutching it to my heart and taking life from it, I don’t know how.
And that not knowing...
It feels like a dagger in my hand. A dagger I don’t know how to use.
My phone chimes out and I put it to the side.
I don’t want to deal with the real world right now.
Hell, I don’t even want to remember that the real world exists–though maybe if I think about that, it’ll drown the noise in my own head.
When the phone chimes again, I’m positive it’s Cam looking for me, though, and I push it further from me.
I don’t want to deal with him until I have a plan for how I’m going to deal with myself.
At the third chime, I finally pick the phone up and look at it.
And it’s not Cameron at all.
It’s the number belonging to the man who claims to be my father. And he’s got another proposition.
Sammy, I know this must be confusing. Just meet me for breakfast, at that diner outside of town. Give me a chance to explain everything. Give me a chance to get to know you.
As I watch, another text comes in, continuing the thought.
You’re my daughter and I’ve missed out on your whole life. I want to change that. I want to fix it. Give you the real family you’ve never had.
The real family I’ve never had. He’s wrong, there. I’ve had a real family. My mother was my family, and Cameron. Bear wants to be my family, I think, if we can figure out how to make it work. I have a family I’ve chosen, and they love me.
They aren’t my blood, though, and the though sticks to my brain like a bur.
I’ve watched Cam with Gabe and Gunner, his actual blood, and I’ve seen the similarities there.
The broad shoulders and narrow waists. Their habit of clenching and unclenching their hands.
Their quick tempers and equally quick smiles.
The way he and Gabe can look at each other and grin, like they know exactly what the other is thinking.
They’re things I think you can probably only get with someone who shares your blood, and I...
I’ve never had that.
And since I can’t grow cousins or siblings, I never will.
Except this man claims to be my father and is asking to meet me, and maybe he has kids. Maybe he has siblings who have kids, which would mean there are cousins.
I could have an entire family out there that I don’t even know about. People who share my blood. Probably my hair color, or my eyes, or even my height. Maybe they laugh like I do and want to fly and feel like they can’t fit enough into the short time they’ve been given.
Maybe they’ll understand me without me having to say anything.
I would be lying if I said I’ve never wondered what it would be like to have people like that. And with these texts, there’s a chance that something like that is falling into my life.
A real family.
A real dad.
I catch on the thought of leaving Wood and hate the idea of it. Leaving Cameron feels like cutting out a piece of my soul and leaving it behind, and I don’t know if I could ever be a whole person without him.
But it’s not like I’m actually planning to leave. I’m just agreeing to breakfast. Gathering information. Making a contact.
Potentially finding my real dad. Finding a family that’s not chosen, but awarded by the universe. A place to truly belong, like I’ve always wanted.
The voices in my head all fall silent at the idea, like I’ve found the way to soothe them, and my shoulders relax. Maybe this is the answer. Maybe this is the path.
And it’s just breakfast. No one even has to know about that.
Just breakfast with a man who might be my father.
Hell, I bet Cameron would love the idea, if I were to tell him. He’d tell me to go for it and that he’d drive me down there, to make sure I got there safely. He’d be as excited as me.
I mean I’m not going to tell him. I don’t want him to worry, and right now I don’t know if I can manage the emotions that are attached to him. Besides, I want to do this on my own. Do it by myself, for the first time in my life.
I’ll tell Cameron about it when I get home, when we can laugh about how crazy it was that I did it without saying anything–and how everything turned out okay, even without him.
I grin at that, suddenly excited, and run toward the truck, the daisy chains falling down around me as I run.