Page 29 of Knot Forgotten

“In here! We are here!” I scream. “Please help!”

I’m sobbing now, tears dripping from my chin. My mom gathers me to her chest, and we cry together as police enter our home. They wrestle my father to the floor in slow motion, cuffing him before hauling him to his feet and escorting him from the house. He doesn’t say a word, but the look on his face promises retribution. When he gets out, he is going to do more than try to sell me.

I blink away the tears clinging to my eyelashes. It hits me hard each time. No matter how much therapy I’ve gone through, when I think of it, it’s like I’m living it again. A prisoner in my own head.

Pushing off my bed, I cross the room to the door that separates me from the conversation and sounds of the television on some shooting game again. I’m so lonely. Pressing my palm to the wood, I inhale as my forehead dips to the cool surface.

My heart lodges in my throat, and I swallow, attempting to dislodge it. I wish they were still my guys, that I could open this door between us and be welcomed.

I miss them.

It is a crazy thing to feel after everything. I know that. But I can’t stop my feelings. My fingers curl around the doorknob, holding it a few seconds before I gather the courage to twist it and pull the door open.

Blake looks over from the TV, his eyes flowing silently down to my toes and back up again. He does that every time he sees me. As if it is some kind of compulsion to check me over. When his gaze lingers on the yellowing bruises on my neck, I shift uncomfortably and force myself to cross the room to the refrigerator. I bought a few drinks to keep in the dorm. Swinging the door open, I grab one out.

“Can you get me a bottle of water?” Blake asks.

I freeze. Halfway to standing, halfway still in the fridge. Flicking my eyes in his direction, I see he’s turned in his chair to watch me. I’m not sure if I should ignore him or not.

Cameron didn’t even acknowledge me this time, still pressing away on his buttons. Although, if the screen says anything, he notices me because he keeps dying.

Is Blake's request a sort of olive branch? Is this a step forward?

Debating a few seconds more, I finally reach for the water bottle and straighten up. Silently, I bring it to him, and he takes it, brushing his fingers with mine. It sends tingles up my arm, followed swiftly by goosebumps.

Pressing my lips together, I’m not sure what to do now. Awkwardness and anxiety mix in a lethal cocktail in my blood before he nods at the empty space next to Cam.

“Take a seat.”

I don’t know why I listen to him. Maybe it is the same loneliness that forced me from my room. When I sink onto the couch, three feet away from Cameron, Blake watches me. His gray eyes burn into the side of my face as I pretend to watch Cam play the game.

Warmth seeps into my muscles, and I pull my legs up to my body, hugging them. None of us talk, and I’m not sure if it is a step in the right direction, but when I finally return to my room, I don’t feel so alone.

I’m lighter on the way to class. The sun feels brighter, even as fall takes hold, changing the leaves to a myriad of colors that will be absolutely stunning in a few weeks. It is the first morning since I’ve arrived that I didn’t go to admissions to beg for a new dorm room.

Hope flares in my chest when I think of the simplicity of last night. Sitting on the couch, watching them play the game, felt like when we were teens hanging out at Cam’s house. Sure, we didn’t talk, but it is a change from what has become our status quo.

I step into the dim building on the way to my psych class, the hallway empty, like normal. My steps sound down the hall, professors' voices carrying from their rooms and blending into a soft mixture that makes me feel like I’m in the right place, finally.

Coming around a corner, my breath stutters out of me as I slam into Cameron’s chest. He steadies me as if he expected my arrival. Then he pushes us both into a supply room. The air whooshes out of my lungs as my back hits the wall. Supplies on a shelf next to me rattle.

“Cam?” I gasp.

His fingers are against my scalp, tugging me to him without a word. My gaze catches on his mouth seconds before he is kissing me as if he needs my lips to live. The small room smells like spring and rain and an earthy smell I wish I could capture in a bottle. His lips glide across mine.

I nip at his lower lip roughly, and he lets loose a growl that goes straight between my thighs. His fingers dig into my hips to drag me against him at the same time he’s pressing me firmer into the wall. If he thinks I’ll run, he’s mistaken.

His body pins me, pressing proof of his loss of control against my stomach. A whimper slips out of my throat, and he captures it, tangling his tongue with mine, hunger and need flowing off of him in a torrential downpour of sensations.

A deeper groan flows out of him, and he tears his lips from mine. The absence makes them throb in time with my clit, and I attempt to kiss him again. His forehead touches mine, our ragged breaths mingling.

“Wait,” he gasps. “Don’t let me come.”

Confusion seeps into my bones.

“What?” I blink at him. I heard him wrong. Right?

“Bring me to the edge,” he pants, his hips pressing against my soft stomach. He captures my fingers and brings them to the front of his jeans. “Please.”

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