Bad Things

32. The Way It Ends

Every time I see you baby I get lost

If I'm dreaming, baby, please don't wake me up

Every night I'm with you I fall more in love

Now I'm laying by your side

Everything feels right since you came along

- Shawn Mendes.

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"I don't think I'm going to make it home tonight, sweetheart."

Camila stood at the window, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she held the yellowing lace curtain to the side. Rain poured in torrents down the pane of glass and obscured her view into the yard, but the sharp whistling of the wind and the creaking and cracking of branches gave her a pretty good mental picture. "Is it bad there too?" she asked as lightning flashed in several short bursts.

She winced as the constant pain in her head spiked with the brightness. Thunder rolled through the dark night, shaking the house as the sound built to a crescendo and faded out as quickly as it had come. Camila leaned in and squinted to try and see through the rivulets of rain.

"Yes, and they've closed the bridge due to an accident and don't have an ETA as to when it's supposed to reopen," her mother said, her voice crackling on the other line. "I figured it'd be best to get a room here for the night."

Camila sighed and dropped the curtain as another loud crack of thunder boomed. A shiver raced down her spine, and she rubbed at her arm to quell the gooseflesh starting to rise. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm sorry," her mother said. "I know how you don't like to be alone out at the farmhouse. And with Carlos out dealing with school stuff ..."

Camila bit her lip and peered across the room to where Shawn stood watching the storm through the opposite window, his brows pinched in what looked like frustration. "Well ..." she said. "I'm not exactly alone."

Silence engulfed the other end of the phone for several seconds, and then Camila heard her mother let out a slow breath. "Karla ..."

Camila turned away from Shawn and lowered her voice. "Mama, it's not like I can ask him to drive home in this. Besides, I mean, really, what do you have to worry about?" She glanced down at her swollen stomach.

"I'm not worried about anything," she said, a touch of annoyance entering her voice. "But as a mother, it's engrained into my brain to disapprove of my eighteen-year-old daughter's boyfriend spending the night alone with her, despite our particular circumstances."

Camila snorted into the phone.

"Don't snort at me. I know it's ridiculous." She sighed. "Just lie to me and tell me he'll sleep in Carlos's room."