Page 77 of Off Balance

"It's not your fault, Cameron. No matter what you were doing, or drinking, or wearing—no one hasthe right to do something like this to you.It is not your fault," she repeats, and I lose the battle not to cry. It all comes out at once, in an aching sob. Before I know it, I'm being scooped into Dom's arms so he can hold me closer to his chest. The doctor and nurse protest, but he's careful of the IV tubes, and gentle enough that he barely jostles me. Dr. Johansen reaches a hand to stop Nurse Irene from calling security. They give me a moment to break down in his arms, waiting until the worst of the sobbing stops to keep talking.

"Whatever you've been given on any of these occasions—most likely Rohypnol, if I had to guess—you had a bad reaction, which could be due to an underlying allergy, which would explain why you've gotten so sick in the past even when you haven't ingested much. It could also explain the severe reaction you had to being exposed again." She gives me a patient and understanding look. "If you're willing, talking to the police could help you narrow down who did this to you." Dom's body stiffens, causing hisarms to tighten around me slightly. "It seems Mr. Connor has a strong opinion about who might be responsible. Finding out for sure could go a long way towards healing some of what you're carrying, Cameron."

A large part of me wants to let this go, so I never have to deal with Emile or any of these feelings ever again, but burying it all will only get me so far. I covered up my fears and trauma from the incident two years ago by closing myself off and controlling every single part of my life that I had any say in. It's ultimately why Emile was able to get under my skin and wreak havoc on my self-confidence the way he did. I know all of this, logically. But stopping it, and making healthy changes and progress towards healing rather than covering it up and trying to forget, is going to take actual work. It's going to open up old wounds and maybe create new ones.

I burrow into Dom, melting into his comforting, protective embrace.

"I'm in your corner," he whispers into the back of my hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

The knowledge that I have him to support me, no matter what I decide, helps me take that first step. I nod, agreeing to speak with the police. Dom asks if it can wait until the morning, when I've had more chance to rest, and Dr. Johansen agrees.

"Of course. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation. Some more fluids will go a long way to helping you recover faster, as well as a decent meal once your stomach is settled enough." She pauses, making me look up, wondering if she's done and I can go back to sleep. "I'd also like to give you a referral to a psychologist that specializes in trauma and eating disorders." I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up her hands. "It's notabout weight, or whether you've purposely starved yourself. It's about regaining the loss of control you feel that caused strict eating habits in the first place."

"I've always been careful about my diet. It's just part of being a professional dancer."

Dr. Johansen nods but encourages me to try a few sessions to see how I feel. "You never know how it could help," she says in a way that makes me feel she has some experience on the matter. So I agree, for now. I can always change my mind later. I'm too tired to think about anything else right now.

"Get some rest, and I'll check in with you before the morning shift change," the doctor says. She gives Nurse Irene a few orders to write up for overnight treatment and bids us goodnight.

Once the nurse has replenished my IV fluids bag and added a familiar bright yellow bag to the mix, she reminds us that only one person can stay in the room overnight but tells us she'll give us a few minutes to decide.

My mom makes the decision, even though I can tell it's hard for her.

"Dom, why don't you stay tonight? I'm sure Dwayne is out of his mind with worry. I should—" She looks down at me, unsure of how to proceed. "Is it okay for me to tell him anything, or what can I tell him?"

"It's okay," I tell her. "You can tell him anything you need to. He's family, and I don't want him to worry."

"Baby, I don't think anyone's done worrying just yet, but we'll get there." She kisses me on the forehead, whispering that she loves me. "We'll see you in the morning, and we'll bring breakfast."She pauses again, staring at Dom with wide, uncertain eyes. Then she pats him awkwardly on the arm and backs away, picking up her purse from the floor under the chair she was sitting in. "Call me if anything changes, or if you need me."

Finally, it's just the two of us. I have so much that I want to say, that I need to say, but it's too much to process right now. My head is heavy, the weight of everything pulling me down.

Dom situates us on the suddenly too-small hospital bed. There's significantly less space than there was when I woke up alone, but it's far more comfortable with half my body curled over his. My hand with the IV is resting carefully on his stomach, our legs entwined, and my head on his chest.

"Sleep, baby. We'll figure it all out in the morning."

When mom and Dwayne return in the morning, there's so much to talk about that no one seems to know where to start. Dwayne won't so much as look at Dom. It's clear that he's only here for my mother, and that's understandable. Not only am I worried that I've ruined whatever relationship we finally started to build, but the lack of playful banter and affection between the brothers is palpable. I don't know how to fix this, but talking about things and getting them out in the open seems to have been a good start for everything else.

We're using my hospital bed as a makeshift table, with me sitting up cross-legged on one end of the bed and the rest of them situated around the end with chairs. Dom is sitting on my right, and mom and Dwayne are on my left. Everyone has a breakfast sandwich wrapped in wax paper. Even though I'm committed toloosening some of the control I have over my diet, I'm thankful to see that my sandwich is actually a wrap with egg whites, spinach, and avocado on one of my favorite high-protein, low carb tortillas.

"I didn't want to make your stomach upset by going straight for the cheese and bacon," Dwayne mutters without making eye contact. Of course, he made the breakfast himself. Because he's amazing and wonderful, just like his goddamned brother.

"I don't want you to hate me!" I blurt.

Dwayne finally looks at me. Really looks at me. His eyes soften and he darts a glance at my mother. His eyes shift towards his brother, but he stops himself from actually looking at him. It breaks my heart.

"I don't hate you," he finally says. The disappointment is there in his tone, though. And it might not be something I can fix.

"I think we're all going to need some time to process some of these… revelations," my mom says diplomatically. Dwayne scoffs, and she elbows him. He still doesn't look at Dom but suggests we all eat before the police come to take my statement.

After breakfast, my mom and Dwayne step outside while I get dressed. Dom insists on staying and helping in case I get dizzy or need help. I don't, but it's nice having him close.

Dom joins my parents in the hallway while I'm talking to the police officer. I give him a flash drive that Dwayne brought. Apparently, he found some other interesting things in the footage that I'm not even aware of yet, but I give it to the police officer anyway, not knowing what's on there. Dwayne gives the officer the contact information for the manager at the bar so he can follow up and make sure there's an appropriate papertrail. I give him Emile's information and tell him everything that happened yesterday before the performance. He wrote down Mark and Theo’s names as well, and I also gave him Marissa and Heath's information. The one thing keeping me strong, besides having Dom in my corner supporting me, is the thought that maybe coming forward will help the others who have been hurt by Emile. I'm acutely aware that it puts me at risk of retaliation if nothing comes of it, but at this point I can't see moving forward in my dance career if I'm always going to be tied to Emile Alistar.

What else could he ruin for me?

CHAPTER 22

DOM

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