Page 66 of Haunted By the Storm
A metaphor too obvious to miss.
Camryn looks out at the clearing sky, stars beginning to peek through breaks in the clouds. "Look at that," she says softly. "Storm's passing."
I glance at her, catching the double meaning in her words. "Not all storms," I remind her. "You're stuck with this one."
Her laughter, free and unrestrained, is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. "Good," she says, turning to face me. "Because it turns out I don't mind this particular Storm at all."
As I lean across to kiss her, I'm struck by how far we’ve both come. The storm that brought us together has cleared away the threats of the past, leaving behind clean air and open skies.
And for the first time since I can remember, I'm looking forward to whatever weather tomorrow brings.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
camryn
Morning light spills through the window, painting golden streaks across Storm's sleeping face. His features are relaxed in sleep, softer than the hard lines he shows the world. I trace the stubble along his jaw with my fingertips, still marveling that this man, this fierce, protective storm of a man, is mine.
Last night changed everything.
Standing in that warehouse, rain hammering on the metal roof, thunder shaking the walls, I faced both my fears head-on: Eric and the storm itself. And somehow, with Storm beside me, neither seemed as terrifying as they once did.
When Eric lunged for me, spitting venom and rage, there was a moment, brief but crystal in its clarity, when I saw him for what he truly is: not a monster, not the boogeyman who's haunted my nightmares for eight years, but just a man. A pathetic, desperate man with no real power over me.
And in that moment, I was free.
Storm stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as his eyes flutter open. Blue and clear as a sky washed clean by rain.
"Morning," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. "You watching me again?"
I smile, caught in my observation. "Maybe. You're nice to look at."
He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "How are you feeling? After everything last night..."
I consider the question seriously, taking stock of my emotional state. The fear that's been my constant companion for so long feels... different. Not gone entirely, I doubt it ever will be, but transformed into something manageable, something that no longer controls me.
"Better," I answer honestly. "Like I can breathe deeper than before."
He studies my face, searching for any sign of lingering trauma. "No regrets? About being there?"
"None," I assure him. "I needed to face him, to see for myself that he's just a man, not the monster I built up in my mind."
Storm nods, understanding. He traces circles on my back, a soothing gesture that's become familiar. "You were incredible, Camryn. Standing there, facing him down after everything he did to you..." He shakes his head slightly, something like awe in his expression. "Brave doesn't begin to cover it."
"I had you with me," I remind him, because it's important he understands his role in my strength. "Knowing you were there, that you had my back... it made all the difference."
"I'll always have your back," he promises, the words a vow more solemn than any ring or ceremony could be. "You and Emily both."
Emily. My sweet girl, who slept peacefully through the night at Tavia's, blissfully unaware that her mother was confronting the biological father she's never met. The father who will never be part of her life now, a decision cemented in blood and threats last night.
"We should pick her up soon," I say, reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of Storm's arms but eager to see my daughter. "She'll be wondering where we are."
"Mmm," Storm agrees, though he makes no move to release me. "In a minute. I'm enjoying this moment."
I smile, settling back against his chest. This is still so new, the simple pleasure of waking up together, of quiet morning intimacy that doesn't necessarily lead to sex. I'm still adjusting to having someone to share these moments with, someone who wants to linger just because we're together.
"Did you hear?" Storm asks after a comfortable silence. "It's supposed to be clear for Halloween tonight. Perfect weather for trick-or-treating."
"Emily will be thrilled," I say, thinking of the butterfly costume she's been planning for months. "She's been so worried she wouldn't get to wear her wings."
