Page 94 of Beyond Oblivion

Her head popped up and she looked at me with so much hope in her eyes, I had to give her what she wanted.

“Okay?” she asked.

“I trust you.”

The corners of her mouth turned up so slightly anyone else would’ve missed it. “I love you so much. Thank you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, closing the door.

In the following days, Travis made it a point to check in on Dad so Camille could ride to work with me. Either he or Thomas would wait for her at the shop at night or for lunch and make occasional drives-by to patrol.

Despite my reassurances, it was obvious whatever secret Camille was hiding was gnawing at her, fraying the edges of my already stressed and stretched-to-the-limit wife. She’d started experiencing bouts of morning sickness—a bittersweet reminder that this was real, a baby was growing inside her. She said it was a good sign, but it didn’t dampen the overwhelming helplessness I felt.

Each time Travis and Thomas showed up, I had to convince myself that their protection was necessary, and their efforts came from love. It took every ounce of strength I had not to let my fear and anger spill over. I felt my heart hardening toward them, an ugly knot twisting tighter, growing rigid with every passing day.

I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t deny that it was souring into hate. My jaw clenched as I forced back the accusations I’d buried deep, trying to keep the peace, to spare Camille from even more stress. But it was getting harder, damn near impossible, not to look at them and feel a flash of blame burning in my gut. They’d been part of the mess Camille had become tangled in, even before Madison had reentered my life, and now resentment was snowballing into something so dark I didn’t know how to claw free.

The guilt Camille carried for keeping me in the shadows, the sinister backstory behind Madison’s dangerous new crew—it all led back to one or both of my brothers. They’d opened the door, and now it felt like a very real threat was sitting in our living room, feet up, making itself comfortable.

I’d considered calling Raegan more than once. If Camille had ever needed her best friend, it was right now. Raegan knew my wife almost better than I did. She was the one person who could make Camille laugh when I couldn’t, but every time I picked up my phone, that Raegan was bordering thevery pregnantstage stopped me. Even desperate for her help, I couldn’t shake the feeling that just one visit could put a target on her back—if there wasn’t one already. The last thing Camille would want is her best friend—or her best friend’s baby—caught in the fallout.

“Hey,” Hazel said, nodding toward the back. “Cami’s been back there for a while. She’s been to the restroom a lot, and she looks a little sweaty. You should check on her.”

I hurried to the restroom, knocking gently on the door. “Honey? Everything okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” she said from behind the thick door.

I waited a few moments, and then the door swept open. Hazel was right. Camille was pale and flushed at the same time, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“Cami, you’re not fine. Talk to me.”

Her eyes immediately glossed over. “I’m cramping.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You shouldn’t even be on your feet. C’mere,” I said, guiding her quickly to the break room, insisting she lay on the loveseat.

She settled in, holding back tears. “I thought it would go away.”

Hazel rounded the corner. “Thomas is here.”

My oldest brother appeared, rushing over to kneel next to her. “Is she sick?”

“I got it,” I managed, subduing pure rage.

Thomas looked up at me. “Did you call the doctor? Does she need an ambulance?”

“No!” Camille said. “Don’t call a fucking ambulance. I just need to rest.”

“Is it the baby?” Thomas asked, brushing back her bangs.

She pushed his hand away. “I don’t know. I’ve been cramping since about ten this morning.”

Thomas stood, gesturing to Camille. “Why isn’t she at home resting?” he demanded.

“I didn’t know!” I yelled. “I’m surprised you don’t!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Thomas said, frowning in confusion. “How would I know?”

“Trent,” Camille warned.

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