“I’m worried about your feet, not your hands, baby.”
“Cam.” She pulled her feet away and scooted over until she could tuck her shoulder under his arm. “Talk to me.”
She was close enough to hear him swallow. Close enough to hear thethump thump thumpingcadence of his heartbeat. Close enough to feel his muscles go tight against her.
“Maybe you could ask me questions, because I’m not sure where to start with all this crap.”
She leaned her head back to look up at him. One arm was over her shoulder, and he was toying with one of the many errant curls swelling around her shoulders from the humidity. The other hand lay in his lap, and he was tapping some rhythm with his fingers against his palm. His knee bounced like Mexican jumping beans had hatched in his pants.
Of course he was nervous.
“Okay.” She touched his knee, stilling the frenetic bounce. “I’ll ask questions.”
She settled herself against him, stroking her hand up and down his forearm. Cam’s chest rose with a deep breath like he was going underwater.
“The man who did it, is he dead yet?” Jo had never used her family’s power for evil, but she had never felt the black rage enveloping her at the sound of that man’s name, and she knew that she would if that man was still alive.
“Yeah, he’s dead.”
“How’d he die?”
“He’s just dead.”
“Okay.” Mental note to revisit later. “When did this happen?”
“Off and on from the time I was ten ’til I was eleven. Maybe a year or so.” He pressed his eyes closed, long lashes brushing his cheeks. “I can’t do details, Jo, so don’t ask me.”
“I don’t want to know details.” Jo pulled away from the warmth of his body, sitting forward with her elbows on her knees. “How does what happened affect you now? Did you ever get help?”
“I don’t need help.”
She allowed a slow push of breath through her nostrils before looking at him over her shoulder.
“Is this what your nightmares are about? Is this why you don’t sleep?”
Cam dragged his eyes away from hers, fixing them on the empty fireplace, dormant in the summer heat. He nodded.
“For a long time, I thought I had gotten away scot-free.” He swallowed. “A lot of people talk about how after something like this, they can’t have sex or feel conflicted about their sexuality. Fear of sexual contact. I didn’t have any of that. I liked girls and I loved sex.”
“I do recall.” She offered him a wry grin.
“You remember when I was eighteen and I got word that my mom had died in prison?” Cam reached for his glass of Jack, knocking back the last little bit. “I had my first nightmare that night.”
“What do you dream about?” Jo didn’t know why she whispered, but it suddenly felt like they weren’t alone anymore. Like some evil presence lurked and listened in the shadowy corners.
“Him.” Cam’s fingers tightened around the glass until the color ebbed away under his skin. “The things he did to me.”
Cam’s expression was an open wound she couldn’t make herself probe. Even though he had asked for questions, she sensed it was time for her to be quiet.
“It was like…itislike…it’s happening again. It’s so real I smell him. I hear him.” Cam’s fingers dug deep trails in his wild hair. “I feel him like it’s happening again, and I’m just as helpless as I was then.”
“Have you considered talking to anyone about it?” She knew it was one of those questions she already knew the answer to. “I think talking to someone might help.”
Cam’s brows jerked together, and Jo almost wanted to pull the words back between her lips. Except they needed to be said.
“I’ve got this, Jo. It’s under control.”
“Under control?” Jo willed her voice to remain even, though her whole body felt like a hiccup. “We’ve spent every night together this week, and you’re gone every morning when I wake up.”