Page 65 of My Sweetest Agony
Even Cam does, that anguish that lingers in his gaze now somehow abated in this picture.
I swallow my nerves, hoping I’m wrong in anticipating her answer to the question I’m about to ask. “Have you heard from Camden?”
She follows my gaze, and when I return it to her, she offers a tight smile. “He called a few days ago.”
“Oh.” I hold my breath, waiting for her to say that he admitted he’s in town, that he explained his absence from the funeral, but instead, she releases a long sigh, pushes her chair back, and walks over to the counter to refill her lemonade from the pitcher. “Is he…okay?”
Nancy pauses with the carafe halfway raised, then sets it down and turns around to face me, leaning against the counter, resting her hands behind her. “Honestly, I don’t know. I never can tell with him. Drew was always so open and honest with his emotions, but Cam…” She shakes her head and releases an exasperated breath, staring out into the backyard where the boys played their whole lives. “It was always so hard to tell with him.”
“Because he isn’t emotional?”
Her head whips back, and she laughs slightly. “Sometimes I forget you don’t know him.” She offers a tight smile. “Cam is far more emotional than Drew and always has been.”
“Really?”
I picture the man I know—or am getting to know—how quiet he is, reserved, shut off, always hiding and holding something back. Until he gives me these little bursts of insight, cracks in his armor where his emotions flood out so vividly they overwhelm him.
“Drew always wore his heart on his sleeve. He needed to talk things out. To have a hug and be comforted when he skinned a knee or was emotionally hurt. He thrived on human contact and relationships. That was why he was so good with patients. But Cam was more introspective. He was always in his own head and often got lost there for far too long.”
Now that sounds like the Cam I know.
Always bottled up.
Struggling to control his demons.
Desperate to keep his secrets buried.
Nancy returns to pouring her drink and then retakes her seat, wrapping her hands around the glass as her eyes drift to another photo on the wall—of her with her late husband. “When their dad died, Cam completely shut everyone out.”
“Even Drew?”
Her gaze cuts over to me. “Especially Drew.” She offers a slight shrug. “Cam was a little copy-paste of his dad. Reserved. Introverted. Drew fell apart. He cried for a year straight, every night. But Cam…” She shakes her head, her eyes getting a faraway look as she delves into her memories. “He shut down, got quiet, turned in on himself in a way I didn’t even know was possible for someone that young. And it only seemed to get worse as he got older, but I could always see it under the surface, you know? In his eyes.”
I nod, because I do know.
I’ve seen it.
I’ve drowned in those eyes and was left gasping for air, my head spinning, not knowing what direction was up or down or what was right or wrong anymore.
She forces a swallow, tears shimmering in her eyes that look so much like theirs. “Cam could have done anything, been anything. I had them tested as kids, and his IQ was off the charts, even higher than Drew’s.” Her fingers glide over the side of the glass, wiping at the condensation absently. She shrugs. “But he just didn’t care. His passion was all poured into his art rather than school.” Her gaze lifts to meet mine, now shining with pride. “But Cam is an incredible artist. A true talent…I think because he feels more, cares more, loves harder than anyone I’ve ever met. He sees people and the world in a very different way that allows him to connect on a level even Drew couldn’t.” Her breath catches slightly as she fights the emotions trying to overwhelm her. “They were very different, but they loved each other deeply, maybe because of those differences. And that’s why their falling out has been so hard for me to understand…”
It’s the most she’s ever said about Camden.
In all the years I was with Drew, the conversations were always led away from his brother. Fleeting mentions. Brief references. But this discussion is opening up a whole level of knowledge I never had about Cam. About how his mind works and why he carries so many secrets.
Because he always has.
Because he has always carried the weight of his emotions internally.
He has allowed them to eat away at him from the inside out—including whatever caused the rift with Drew.
“You don’t know what happened between them?”
She glances up at me and gives me a tight smile. “I’m not entirely sure. Several months ago, Drew made an off-hand comment when I mentioned Cam that he was a ‘selfish piece of shit.’”
I recoil slightly.
That doesn’t sound like Drew.
