Safe Haven

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Oliver

I had to admit, I was beyond floored by Cameron's random call. It came during my break at work, which I threw myself back into the same week that I arrived home, so he was pretty lucky that I even answered (I usually reserve my breaks for just that: taking a break, not answering phone calls). Something inside me told me to answer. I was incredibly glad I did, too. Not just because Cameron sounded like he needed me, but because I had needed him too. I missed his sarcasm and cold demeanor more than I liked to admit. He did sound so different though. He sounded more vulnerable and hurt than I'd ever heard, even more so than he'd been after a nightmare.

So, on Saturday when he knocked at my door, a little bit after our agreed-on time, I ushered him in and studied him closely. He looked so much smaller than before, not that I'd ever thought of him as a bulky man. He'd lost weight, and he had bags under his eyes. It didn't look like he'd fully eaten or slept the entire time he'd been home. His words echoed in my head: "I'm so lonely." Instead of just letting him stand there like he was, I scooped him up into a hug. He relaxed against me in a way I'd never felt him do, and his hands gripped my t-shirt.

"You had to psych yourself up for this?" I asked, smiling a little. It was a futile attempt to lighten the mood, but Cameron chuckled gently as he left the hug.

"Don't make fun of me, I'm traumatized," he stated simply. I knew he was partially serious, but his weak grin was indication enough that he was initiating banter.

"I'm traumatized too. Try again."

"Not as much as me. I'm probably more traumatized."

I giggled as I grabbed his wrist and led him into the kitchen, where my mum was already starting the dinner. It smelled pretty good already, so I peered over the side of the pan to look at the sauce, inviting Cameron to do so too.

"Looks good," he mumbled.

"Get ready to have your mind changed about fettuccine," I stated. He turned to look at me for a moment before rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You wish."

"Whatever, you're the one that tracked me down. Not the other way around," I let him know.

"Hello dear," my mother said, reaching out to hug Cameron too. She was always so kind. "Oh gosh, you're so tiny! Haven't you eaten at all?" She said exactly what was on my mind. Cameron looked stunned for a moment, then he glanced at me to see if I was watching.

"I guess I've just been saving room for your cooking," he said with a crooked smile. To avoid any further interrogation from my mother, which I sensed coming based on the dangerous glint in her eye, I pulled Cameron into the living room. I had spent the entire night before making sure my house was presentable, as it wasn't the cleanest thanks to my recent workaholic attitude. His eyes floated around the room, lingering on the couch.

"Have a seat. Make yourself at home," I urged him, pushing his chest so he sunk into the pillows of my couch. He followed me with his eyes as I sat next to him, using the remote to turn on my TV.

"Want to know what's weird?" He asked suddenly. I hummed in response, scrolling through movies on Netflix and avoiding things that looked a little bit too dark for the situation. "I'm honestly feeling more comfortable in your house than I have in mine the past few weeks."

"Why don't you feel comfortable?" I asked, pausing my search to look at him. He was watching my movement on the TV screen until he realized I'd stopped, and he turned to look at me too.

"I don't know... I think it's weird that it's not like I remember." When I didn't respond, he started to rephrase it. "Not like furniture in different places. Him. I didn't realize we were... y'know."