Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1) (18 page)

I climb into Olivia’s bed, pulling her small body to me, and bury my nose in her hair, memorizing her. “Livvy, baby, I know we’ve only known each other for a short while.”

“Almost a full week,” she supplies, her smile showing off a crooked tooth.

I chuckle. “Almost a full week. That’s all it took for me to fall in love with you.”

Small hands go to my face, caressing my beard, before they wrap around my neck.

“I love you, too. Kinda like I would if you were my daddy.”

Air wheezes out of my lungs, my heart pounding in my ears. I bring her closer to me because her love is stronger than my weaknesses.

“Yeah, just like that,” I whisper. “Just like that, baby girl.” I pull away from her so that she can see my face, the honesty behind my words. “I have to go away for a little while. Not long,” I add when her bottom lip trembles.

Emotions stir inside me, clawing their way through my body, exposing me to all the feelings I’ve tried to hide from. I swallow hard, my breath wobbling.

“Stay, Cam. Please don’t go.”

“I’ll be back, baby girl. I’ll be back,” I promise, scattering kisses on top of her head, combing my fingers through her thick hair. “I’ll be back. Then, you and me? We’re gonna plant the prettiest flower garden with whatever flowers you want. And every time you see them, you’ll know I love you, and I’ll never leave you again.”

“White roses?” she asks, her eyes peeking up at me. “Like the ones you gave me today?”

“Just like those,” I agree, kissing her one last time before I get out of her bed.

Walking the distance from her bed to Yanelys, waiting for me by the door, drains me of all my energy. Disbelief crashes into me, and I lean against the wall while soft fingers caress the base of my neck. Scared, I turn around and wind my arms around Yanelys’s waist, my hands running circles over her back.

“I’m gonna get better.” My lips graze the crevice of her neck. “For you and Livvy.”

“For you, too,” she adds, her fingers combing through my hair. “I believe in you, Cam.”

“Thank you.” I exhale. “Thank you for always seeing what I never could.”

I kiss her, my tongue dipping into her mouth, and she takes me, all of the broken pieces, and welcomes me, strengthens me.

I’ve been running from my past, from the pain, for so long that I don’t know how to stop. But I need Yanelys and Olivia. And they need me.

Tormented brown eyes watch me leave, and the shadows of my sins obscure the beauty of the only girl who can save me.

TWENTY-THREE

YANELYS

On loose limbs, I walk to Olivia’s room and climb into bed with her. Without hesitation, she goes into my arms, her eyes searching for the same reassurance I need.

“He’s coming back, Livvy.”

My heart quivers, my skin buzzing with the threatening storm. I’m falling again, my heart plummeting with the pressure. The gloomy shadows surround me, and numbness spreads over my body, but somehow, the pain from my shattered heart remains intact.

“I told him I loved him.” Overwhelming misery spills from her lips and takes ahold of my heart. “I thought maybe he could be my dad.”

“Oh, sweetie,” I whisper into her hair, rocking her in my arms, the same way I did when she was just a baby. “He’s coming back. He’s coming back,” I repeat as much for her as for myself.

He’s coming back.

He has to.

“Why’d he leave?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But he went with Tito, and you know Tito will take good care of him.”

“Tito would kick his butt if he didn’t come back.” Olivia perks up, flashing a cautious smile in my direction.

I laugh. “You’re probably right.”

“He seemed sad when he said good-bye. Like maybe it was forever.”

“Yeah.” I sigh, a tear freeing itself from behind my eye. “But Cam’s always been a bit intense, even when we were kids.”

Olivia’s eyes widen, her lips forming a thin line. “Was he always sad, too?”

“Not always. He had mean parents who did a lot of horrible things to him,” I try to explain the complexities of Camden’s life to innocent ears. “Ita and Tito took him in when he was twelve, and we became his family. After that, he was a lot happier.”

But still, the horrors he’d endured lashed out at him every chance they had and eventually drove him away.

“Is that why he’s leaving? So, he can find happiness again?”

“I think he found his happiness right here.” I trail a finger down her nose.

“Then, why’d he leave?” she asks, confusion contorting her face.

In love, we find hurt. In late hours, we find restlessness.

My head lies on my tear-soaked pillow, and I close my sore eyes to the early morning rays of sun spilling through my window shades. Memories of Camden and me surround me, an avalanche of what I already miss. Wrapped in my warm blanket, I lift my tired body from the bed and steal one last breath of Camden’s pillow before I start making breakfast for Olivia.

Startled, I take a step back when I find my mom sitting on the living room couch.

“
Mi corazon
.”

Sympathy and understanding wrap itself around me, and I go to her.

My mom brushes my hair away from my face and hugs me close to her as she murmurs words meant to soothe me.

“He left.” My heart cracks open, the tiny pieces slicing its way through my chest.

“Only for a short time,” she reassures me.

“But why? Don’t I get to know why?”

“You will. He’ll tell you everything when he comes back.”

“When he comes back?”

Anger builds in my stomach, thrashing and pulling me in all directions. My mouth twists, and I rub the nape of my neck as I try to gain control of my shallow breaths, but I know it’s futile, so I embrace it. Lost in the chaotic pain, my heart grows tense. Burning, devouring, destroying me.

“When he comes back?” A humorless laugh radiates from my chest. “And then what? He’ll leave again?”

Nerves rumble inside me, seeking a way out, and I stand up to pace in front of my mom.

“It isn’t like that,” she insists, standing up so that she can hug me again.

I shake away from her embrace and pin her down with a stare that encompasses all the hurt and frustration.

“How would I know?” I shout. My vision blurs, bleeding and fading. “I don’t even know what’s going on! I tell my daughter he’s coming back, but how do I know that’s true? How do I know how long he’s going to stay until he breaks our hearts again? Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “You’ve always had a say, but even when he wasn’t here, you still chose him.”

The truth of her words takes my breath away and I hunch over in pain. My chest spasms, and I suck in a greedy breath, my heart refusing to stop thinking, hurting, beating.

“Mommy?” Olivia’s soft voice echoes inside my ears, bringing me back to reality.

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I’m fine.” I turn to her with a forced smile and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Why don’t you let Nisa out?”

Nisa runs from the kitchen and bounces in front of us before she runs to the back sliding glass door, barking her impatience as she waits for someone to open it.

“Go ahead,” my mom coaxes Olivia, who finally listens. She closes the small distance between us and places a warm hand against my cheek. “Yan, I want to tell you, I do, but I think it’d be better coming from him. You two have always understood each other.”

“He didn’t tell me though. He didn’t try to make me understand. He just left. So, you tell me, Mom. Please.” My eyes water, begging for an answer I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.

“Yan…”

“Please,” I whisper. “I need to know.”

A heavy sigh falls on my cheek.

“Cam made a mistake. A bad mistake that has followed him since the day he woke up in the hospital after the earthquake in Haiti.”

My mind spins and lands on Camden’s mom as my mom tells me about his addiction.

“An addict?” My voice bleeds, the tone slicing through the tension in the air.

I back away from her, from the lies and deceptions. A dull ache roots itself in the pit of my stomach, spreading into my chest. It throbs, twisting my heart, trying to force him out of me.

“He’s getting clean.” Scared, my mom steps forward, grasping my arms with trembling hands.

“He’s an addict.” My lips quiver, so I suck them between my teeth and clamp hard.

Tension continues to builds, and the air becomes saturated in it. Suffocating me.

“Yanelys,” my mom warns.

I lift an arm in her direction, halting her movement. “Don’t.” My eyes, shining with their betrayal, bore into her. “You should’ve told me. Instead, you chose him over us and put your granddaughter in danger,” I speak slowly, each word pouring out of me like poison.

“It’s Camden we’re talking about.” Her body inches forward but stops when I take another retreating step away from her.

“You don’t know him!” I accuse, my voice vibrating with my temper. “You knew the boy, not the man. The addict,” I hiss, bracing my arms around my chest, protecting my fragile heart from the only boy I ever loved. “I’m not doing this.” I step back further, my back pressing against the wall, leaving me no room to escape. “I’m not letting my daughter have his childhood.”

“He’d never hurt Olivia,” my mom insists, her lips parting in distress as she inhales a sharp breath of air.

“He already has.”

“Yanelys, you have to understand…”

“No.” I shake my head, the throbbing inside making me queasy. “I don’t. I have to let him go.”

“He’s getting help. For you,” she emphasizes.

“He’s an addict, Mom. He’s just like his parents. I can’t—” I stop, interrupting myself, “I won’t raise Livvy in that same toxic environment.”

On weak knees, I retreat back to my room where I burrow myself into the bed. My heart rate intensifies, shallow breaths falling onto my pillow, and I cocoon myself into the despair. With no end in sight, sorrow hits me with all the dreams Camden shattered. My soul screams, grief rising as bile, and I rush to my bathroom where I dispense all my unwanted thoughts.

I gave him every part of who I was. I tried so hard, willingly handing him my heart. Now…now, there’s nothing left of me. Because there’s nothing left of the boy I knew and loved. He’s gone, too. Maybe he was never really here. Maybe he was always his parents, and I was too young, too naive, to see it.

Blinded by my fear, I stumble back in bed, and when I find Olivia under my covers, I lie down next to her and pull her to me. Delicate fingers trace my jaw, outlining my face. Her eyes are wide as a pensive smile spreads across her face.

“Ita said you’re mad and to leave you alone.”

“And, of course, you didn’t listen.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

“You always make me feel better when I’m mad.” Her tongue skirts out of her mouth, and she takes a small breath. “Are you mad at Ita?”

“Yeah.”

“And Tito?”

“Him, too.”

“What about Cam?”

I close my eyes, not wanting to hear his name.

“You can be mad at him. That’s okay, Mommy.”

“He made a bad mistake, sweetie. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“Remember when I painted your face with permanent marker while you were asleep, and you had to wear it for, like, a week?” she asks.

I nod, the memory of my little mischievous girl lifting my spirits.

“I thought you’d be mad at me forever, but you said you couldn’t because your heart loved me too much. Maybe your heart loves Cam that much, too.”

Her cheeks rise with her smile, and I rub my fingers over her tender skin, absorbing her warmth. Her eyes watch me, waiting for an answer.

“I think my heart loves him that much, too,” she says, her voice pleading with me, breaking me even further.

My heart thrums, wild but strong, and I close my eyes to her wisdom. My breath stutters, and a rush of heat creeps up my neck, casting a flame over my cheeks.

Every time I told him I believed in him, I meant it. I still do. I believe in his love and the goodness rooted inside of him.

But his deceit and the danger it poses to our daughter weigh on me. And, for the first time, it clouds the overwhelming love I have for him.

I inch closer to Olivia and cry. Because I can’t see past this pain. This sorrow.

My foolish heart remembers him. The boy I gave my heart to. The boy who loves me without restraint. And the vision distorts my doubts. My deceitful heart twists, turning his lies into truths. Believing him because he is my truth.

Silence brushes over me like silk, and I give in to the embrace, closing my eyes, not wanting to think or feel or love.

TWENTY-FOUR

CAMDEN

Crisp fall air rushes over me when I step out of Santiago’s beachfront house on Carolina Beach and make my way to the shore. Nerves hum around me, pricking my skin, as I take in a deep breath of the salty air. Letting it out slowly, I bring my coffee mug to my face and let the steam warm my skin.

“Ready?” Santiago’s voice comes out hoarse, his eyes scanning over the white sand.

My knees knock together, and sweat builds in the center of my hands, so I wipe them on my cargo shorts.

Am I ready?