12. Cameron #2
“Yes,” she says.
“Oh.”
My entire job is knowing exactly what to say to appeal to my intended audience enough to get my message across. All that to say, my job is to be good with words.
I feel less capable than an elementary school kid being introduced to complex, multisyllabic words when I’ve only been taught how to sight-read.
“Well then,” I say, my hands flexing against her hips as the space between us fills with awkward silence. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
“There’ll be a next time?” she asks, something shifting in her expression.
She doesn’t perk up exactly, I don’t think she has the energy for it, but there’s a spark that flashes in the light of the ridiculously fancy light fixtures.
“We’re not leaving you here, Andi,” I murmur softly. “I might not be able to see you again before we get you out if everything goes to plan, but that just means you get to scent me all you want without having to sneak away into bathrooms.”
“Okay,” she says, her eyes darting between mine.
“Then we can... figure this out,” I say, gesturing between us. “Give it a real shot. Not ‘cause I’m the only safe alpha you’ve been around in a month. Sound good?”
“Okay,” she repeats, nodding slowly.
“Good. Good girl,” I murmur, pulling her into my arms and resting my chin on top of her head. “Do you want to sit down? Those shoes must be killing you.”
“I can’t really sit down comfortably in this dress,” she mutters, letting out a tired sigh. “It’s one of those dresses that you’ve gotta sit all weird in because it barely bends.”
“Ah,” I say, taking a step back and eyeing her dress up and down.
She makes a sound of distress at my movement, her hands reaching up to grip my forearms and I watch a maelstrom of emotions pass through her expression Despair at me leaving. Embarrassment for making that noise. Longing for me to hold her again.
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere yet,” I murmur soothingly, giving her waist what I hope is a grounding squeeze. “I was just trying to take stock of the... situation. It’s the corset that’s making it hard for you to sit properly, right? ‘Cause of the drop waist?”
She tilts her head to the side, her lips quirking up into the faint hint of a grin. It’s the closest thing I’ve seen to her smiling. The sight makes something crack open in my chest.
“You know fashion?” she huffs.
“I may or may not have had an internship at a fashion magazine or two when I was still in school,” I shrug, the tips of my ears feeling hot. “Learned a thing or two.”
Her lips quirk up even further.
“You’re embarrassed! Well, don’t be. It’s cool. And you’re right.”
“Want me to loosen it for you? Just so you can relax for a bit?”
Her expression instantly transforms into such a look of raw desire I feel my chest shatter right along the cracks that formed when I saw her smile.
“Please?” The single syllable is breathy and desperate.
“Of course. Anything for you, Sweet Tea.”
She turns on her heels, pulling her long dark hair over her shoulder and baring her back to me.
“Corsets are supposed to be supportive,” I mutter under my breath as I start to loosen the ties, working my finger between the laces and tugging until there’s a bit of give and breathing room for her. “This shit’s just a torture device with they way they laced it.”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice shaky and trembling in a way that has me freezing. “Don’t—don’t stop. Please. Sorry, I’m just—you’re right. This dress sucks.”
I focus my energy on continuing to loosen the laces all the way up. Not enough for it to come undone, but enough for her to breathe comfortably.
“S—so, Sweet Tea,” she says through a small sniffle. Her hand lifts to wipe away at her cheeks. “‘That a nickname or something?”
“Yeah, all the other guys have one,” I shrug, continuing to work on the back of her corset. “And I thought it fit. Your perfume’s chamomile tea and it’s sweet when you’re happy.”
“Hasn’t been sweet in a while,” she murmurs softly.
“All done,” I murmur. My hands settle on her shoulders, and I turn her to face me. “We’re gonna fix that, okay? I promise. We’re going to figure this out. I know you’ve probably felt so alone, but you’re not.”
“Okay,” she nods, her movements jerky.
“Do you think you can sit comfortably now that the corset’s a bit looser?”
She thinks about it for a second before shaking her head.
“That’s fine.” I glance at the sofa in the powder room. “Think you can lie down?”
“I can try. Can you—”
“Do you want to lie down on my lap? That way I can stay close.”
“Please.”
God, I’m an evil son of a bitch. I love the sound of her saying please, but the fact that she’s said it so many times in the past few minutes eats away at me, because the old Andi would never say please this much in such a short amount of time for such trivial things.
I settle on one end of the couch, resting my arm on the rest and beckoning her over with the other.
She eases herself down onto the couch, swinging her legs up and leaning back until she’s settled with her head against my arm.
Her hands are clasped across her stomach, and her eyes are closed. A position that should symbolize peace and rest but currently just seems to highlight the state she’s in.
I pet her hair softly, careful to not mess with the design. She shifts against my touch, almost like she’s buzzing up into my hand.
“I wish I could just whisk you away and save you from this,” I murmur. “But... we don’t have much time.”
“It’s okay,” she breathes out, her eyes still closed. “You being here is enough.”
“No.” The single syllable is harsher than I intended it to be. But I can’t help it. “It’s fucking not. I can’t just let you say that, Sweet Tea.”
“Oh.” She blinks up at me, her brows drawing down in concern. She takes a second to take in my expression, which must be twisted with the sea of anguish threatening to drown me right now.
“This isn’t okay. None of it is. Please, Andi, I need you to know that. Tell me you know this isn’t right.”
She’s silent for far too long.
“I... I know. I know it’s not right. But...” Tears start clinging to her lower lashes, and her chin trembles in a way that sucker punches me right in the gut. “But it’s happening, Cameron.”
“I know. I know, Sweet Tea, but that doesn’t make it right. I know you’ve had to do what you’ve had to do to protect yourself, but I can’t let you leave this bathroom thinking that this is right, that you’ve done anything at all to deserve this. No one deserves this. Absolutely no one.”
“Okay,” she breathes out. “I believe you.”
“Good,” I nod, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat. “There’s a court date in four days. Gina should have told you about it, but I won’t be surprised if she hasn’t.”
“Court date?” she asks, confirming that Gina’s done yet another illegal thing by not allowing Andi to know about the proceedings.
“Yeah, Sweet Tea. It’s supposed to be a ruling about whether the emergency conservatorship can be made permanent.”
Her knuckles go white as her hands press tightly together, almost like she’s begging—or praying. Same thing, depending on how you look at it. If I were in her shoes, I’d be begging God to get me out of there, too.
“The guys and I... We’ve been working with your dad to try to figure out a way to get you out of this. Best-case scenario, the judge realizes how insane this whole thing is and doesn’t continue the conservatorship at all.”