Page 53 of Deceit

Not only did Cam and I have a lengthy and painful past, but her actions led to half the reason I shut myself down to feeling anything but anger.

It’s one thing to watch your mom snort coke and be non-existent. It’s another for your high school sweetheart to know how much it bothered you, only to fall right down the same path.

I believed I saved her from it.

I thought my love and plans for the future—ourfuture—would help guide her back to me.

I could take it, helping her in any which way because Camilla became my world when Scarlett and Hardy were absent. She was my new reason for waking up in the morning and filling in those holes that laid hollow.

She wasn’t strong enough.

I wasn’t patient enough.

Camilla took a shit on me and claimed I needed to deal with it because I had with Mom. Fuck that, she was tearing me up inside. That I bought her a ring and was going to propose after we graduated.

My feelings meant dog shit.

And Emmy craves them more than anything.

I met my wife at the wrong time but glad that Em didn’t have to grow up in the throngs of heinous men and petty crimes.

When Camilla was held back our senior, I asked Kyson to wait. Our plans were to join the military, and with the benefits of being married, I’d be able to take care of Camilla too. With the three of us, we’d leave this shithole behind and start a new existence.

It didn’t fucking happen.

I had to gain my life, and Kyson had already waited for me to graduate, being a year older.

So I left.

I left what I thought was the love of my life. I dropped our plans and sold the engagement ring.

I disappeared and never reached out to her again.

“Have you considered…” I let my sentence fade off because I know nothing about this woman anymore and what she’s tried to do and hasn’t done with her life.

Camilla locks gazes with me and straightens her body. “No.”

Just like Mom.

Taking a seat across from her, I settle myself down into a somewhat calm state. Her wavy dark blonde hair is tangled and in need of a comb. The faint sweep of freckles splay over the bridge of her nose, and she’s exactly the same, only over two decades older.

And if I was an idiot—for her still anyway—I’d still think she was worth it.

“You think what you’re doing is the best way to be spending your time?”

“Kace…”

Alright, fuck this.

“You’re going to a rehab facility.”

“Wait, what?” Camilla sounds like I just told her that Santa Claus doesn’t exist and the reindeers don’t fly.

In complete denial about her addiction and the pretty laid out fact that she needs help.

Help I can’t give her.

That I won’t spend my time on because she’s notitfor me anymore.

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