Page 145 of The Pucking Wrong Man

The music crescendoed, and I threw myself into a series of intricate movements, ones I shouldn’t have been doing on my best day with the state of my leg. Sweat dripped down my brow, mingling with the tears that streaked my cheeks.

And still, I pressed on.

Until I took a step, and my leg couldn’t hold me up.

It buckled, and I collapsed.

My sweat and tears stuck me to the floor as I fell in a heap. Everything was too much. The pain, the grief, the fear.

I was drowning. The edges of my vision blurring from exhaustion. Maybe they’d just find me here in the morning.

I could picture them dancing around me, not bothering to call the police or move my body because I was nothing anymore.

Nothing.

There was the slide of footsteps nearby, and I wearily blinked my eyes, staring in the direction of the door listlessly.

My eyes opened wider when I saw who was standing there.

Camden.

Shame coated my throat, the taste of it bitter and disgusting. Embarrassment lit up my insides. This perfect creature was seeing me at my very worst.

I didn’t move, though. I just laid there as we locked eyes. Maybe this was it. Maybe I’d lost my last will.

Or maybe I wanted someone to see me. To see how much I hurt. How much I burned. How much every fucking day zapped my will to keep going.

“Baby girl,” he breathed, and there was an ache in his voice, like the sight of my pain was hurting him too.

That ache burrowed its way inside me, like roots growing beneath a plant.

He walked toward me slowly, like he was approaching a dying animal who was taking its last breaths. He squatted down next to me, brushing his fingers softly against my cheek.

“Oh, baby.” His touch warmed me, but I still didn’t move.

And I didn’t move when he slid his arms around me and pulled me into his chest, lifting me up like I weighed nothing.

I wasn’t sure if I was conscious or not. Everything felt like a dream, the world around me a hazy blur of pain and exhaustion. But through the fog, his strong arms lifted me gently off the cold studio floor, cradling me like I was infinitely precious.

I’d never had anyone hold me before but him. Maybe my mother had held me as a baby, but with what I knew of her, I kind of assumed she’d just thrown me into a crib until I stopped crying.

I didn’t have it in me to move, or ask him where he was taking me.

I just surrendered, allowed myself to be carried away, the rhythmic sway of Camden’s steps lulling me into a state of...peace.

The complete opposite of the frenzy I’d been in before.

The night air brushed against my skin, cool and soothing, as we made our way to his truck.

I was still in a daze as he pulled open the door and set me down softly on the seat. He pulled the seatbelt across my chest, and I blinked slowly at him.

Safety. That’s what I was feeling. It was washing across my skin, a golden light filling my insides, wiping away the anxiety that had been there the whole afternoon.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him.

He smoothed my sweaty, matted hair out of my face.

“Forever,” he answered, and I closed my eyes at that word, allowing a tear to slip down my face.

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