Precious Consequences

“Hi,” I almost squeak out. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi,” he replies impishly. “I needed to come see you.”

I step onto the porch and allow the front door to shut behind me. His eyes don’t leave mine and I silently wonder what he’s doing here.

“I’m here to apologize,” he says, answering my unasked question. “For last night.”

“If you’re here to tell me what happened between us last night was a mistake then I’d rather not hear it, Cameron. I’ve had about as much rejection from you as I can handle. The only mistake we made was trying to be friends, when clearly, it just won’t work.”

He looks down, and shakes his head. When he lifts his head again I’m taken aback by the expression on his face. He looks hurt.

“I came to apologize for last night. I was wrong to be there, but I’m glad I was. Nothing can ever make me regret kissing you or make me wish it never happened.”

My throat goes dry and my heart starts racing. I don’t know what to say.

When Cameron realizes I have no intention of responding, he continues. “I also wanted to apologize for how I reacted at the hospital after our first date. I was a - ”

“You were an asshole,” I interrupt.

“Yes,” he breathes out. “I was. I wanted you to know how sorry I am.”

“It was a while ago, Cam. So just forget about it.”

My head drops, and I stare at my feet. I bite my lip, hoping that Cameron can’t see the array of emotions I’m feeling right now reflected on my face. I don’t think I can handle that. I’ve never been good at being vulnerable and when I’m this close to Cameron, that’s what he does to me; he makes me feel vulnerable, exposed.

I feel his finger under my chin and he lifts my face so that we’re looking at each other.

“That’s just it, Hayley.” His voice is soft and gentle and caressing. “I can’t forget it. It’s not that simple with us. I need to explain a few things.”

“What things?”

He drops his hand and thins his lips before answering with, “Do you trust me?”

I pause, thinking about it. I hate that I can’t answer immediately. After a minute I nod, not saying a word. I do trust him, but not entirely, and I know better than to hurt his feelings by telling him that.

“Will you come with me?” he asks. It’s not his voice that’s pleading with me. It’s his eyes. They suck me in and I’m hopeless enough to give in.

“Please?”

I nod again, this time finding my voice. “Okay. Let me just grab a jacket and my purse.”

I close the door behind me and sag against it. What the hell am I doing? I ask myself, repeatedly. This is a bad idea. Bad. Bad. Bad.

After I’ve grabbed my jacket and my purse, I send a quick text to my grandmother letting her know I’ll be home a little later. I also tell her whom I’m with. She’s completely clued in about everything going on, simply because I don’t like keeping things from her. I step outside again, locking the door and walk down to Cameron’s truck. He opens the passenger side door for me, helping me climb in and then walks to the driver’s side. We don’t say anything as he pulls away from the curb, but my nerves and curiosity get the better of me.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask.

“My place,” Cameron replies, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I have something I want you to see.”

We fall into silence after that, even though I’m dying to ask him why he’s taking me to his house. Instead, I fold my hands in my lap and look out the window, watching the houses fly past us and note how they become bigger and bigger. Eventually we take a left and turn down a winding road, palatial sized homes taking up huge properties on each side. Cameron slows down and turns onto a paved driveway leading up to a beautiful, Georgian style home. He parks his truck in front of the garage and climbs out. I don’t wait for him to come to my side before I jump out. He looks at me as if he’s about to say something, but then appears to have thought twice about it. He shakes his head and walks up to the front door, allowing me to walk in first. The foyer is a large, open space. There are two staircases that go up to a landing on the next floor and the kitchen and living room extend to my right.

It’s eerily quiet and I don’t think anyone else is here except us. It’s strange. It reminds me of the night, two long years ago, when my life changed before I knew it. I want to say that was the night my life really began, but the events that followed made a new beginning impossible. Shaking the memory, I wait for Cameron to tell me what we’re doing here, why he brought me here. Silently, he slips his hand around mine, engulfing it. The gesture surprises me, but I don’t pull away. Something tells me Cameron needs it. We walk up the stairs and down the long hallway, passing bedrooms as we go. When we reach a closed door at the end, Cameron stops, never letting go of my hand, and looks at me. His expression is enough to knock me slightly off kilter because it’s not something I ever thought I’d see on his beautiful face. I clench my other fist, resisting the innate desire to cup his cheek and feel that bit of day old stubble. He squeezes my hand.

“Once I’ve shown you everything, and explained it all to you, you can leave if you want to. But just know that I wouldn’t change the day I met you for anything.” His face lowers and his lips brush my forehead. A multitude of possibilities run through my mind, all wrecking havoc with my already muddled feelings.

Cameron opens the door slowly, quietly. He blocks my view as he leads me into the room, the quietness infiltrated by the sound of a steady beep, and a swoosh. I don’t have time to wonder what it is because Cameron steps to the side and suddenly I feel a weight on my chest.

An older man is lying in a hospital bed. The beeping sound is coming from the machine that’s monitoring his heartbeat, and the swooshing sound is coming from a ventilator. It’s connected to the breathing tube that’s taped to the man’s mouth and I watch as his stomach moves up and down as the machine pumps air into his lungs, breathing for him.

Cameron still hasn’t let go of my hand. In fact, his grip has tightened. I look up to where he stands next to me, watching me, noticing how his face has paled slightly and that he looks bone tired. I see the struggle in the depths of his quicksilver eyes, how hard it is for him to show me this.

“This…” he pauses, swallowing audibly, looking back at the man in the bed. “Is my father, Michael.”

I gasp. It’s his father?

I try to say something but my vocal chords seem to be broken. What do I say to this anyway? Of all the possibilities that ran through my mind a moment ago, this wasn’t one of them. I want to ask what happened, but I don’t know how, or if I should. I don’t really know what to do.

Fortunately, Cameron makes that decision for me and decides we’ve spent enough time in this room. I can’t disagree, even if it’s only been ten minutes at most. He walks out, me in tow, closing the door, and takes me into a bedroom I can only assume is his. It’s light blue, with navy bedding on a king size four-poster bed. All kinds of swimming trophies and awards line the walls, but in no way does his room look like a boy’s room. It’s clean.