Wicked in Love

Chapter 11.1 - in

Cameron

I woke up.

When I opened my eyes, it was the dark that I saw first. It should be comfortable for me—after all, the dark had been my companion since I was a kid. But then my body started shaking.

I struggled to sit on the couch where I slept. The floor was cold and hard under my feet. I bowed my head, resting my elbows on my knees as I waited for my hands to stop trembling, for the ice in my bones to dissipate.

Kara had always appeared in my dreams, but she'd never been a part of that dream. Somehow, my mind had protected her from it, separated her from that recurring nightmare. Until now. I didn't need my body's reaction to tell me I was frightened by it.

Cam, talk to me.

My phone rang. Thinking it was her, I scrambled to get to it. I grunted when I slipped and nearly painted the floor with my face.

Shit. Where the hell is my phone?

I stopped, realizing that whoever it was wouldn't be her. It would take someone getting arrested before she'd talk to me on the phone.

Standing in the middle of my living room, I noticed it was too cold in here, too dark.

Why are you doing this to yourself?

I heard her voice, like I sometimes do. But she wasn't here so I kept the blinds closed, didn't bother turning the heater on.

What's the point?

At ten minutes before eight in the morning, I pulled up into the large hospital parking lot. It was still early, but already the parkade was full. The sun was high, beaming down and blinding my eyeballs. I'd have put my sunglasses on if I remembered to bring them.

"Here." I squinted as Rick handed me a square card the size of a credit card. "Parking pass. Put it on your dashboard."

I did. Feeling antsy, I swiped my hand on my mouth.

"I don't have time to babysit a cranky kid," he said. "Go home and get some sleep."

"I'm not cranky. Sir."

No matter how much I insisted on taking Rick to his dialysis treatment, he wouldn't let me. He had passed on responsibilities on some of the active projects he had going on to me and said that was enough for now. This morning he'd finally agreed. But now that I was here, something didn't feel right. Rick shouldn't be here at all. He shouldn't be sick.

I jiggled the keys in my palm, ready to jump out of the truck and get this over with, but Rick only unbuckled his seatbelt and made himself comfortable in the passenger seat. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me with concern.

"Tell me what's bothering you," he said.

"Nothing is bothering me."

"You've always been a tight vault. No amount of prying can make your stubborn ass talk if you don't want to. Why is that, Cameron?"

The inside of the truck suddenly seemed too small. "I'm just made that way. God's gift to the world."

He chuckled. "That you are. Caleb said you haven't been sleeping well."

Irritation climbed up. "How would he know?" I was being testy. I could hear it in my voice. "Does he park his ass on my window and watch me sleep?"

"Calm down, son."

Something about the way he said it calmed me down. His tone was relaxed, nonjudgmental, understanding. He used to always say this to me and Caleb those first few years when we were in high school, and all we did was fight and be angry at anything that moved. Rick's words still had the same effect on me years later.