Page 26 of Taste Of You

Eight

Twenty-Four Hours Ago…

I haven’t slept for almost thirty hours.

Can’t.

So much is going through my mind, and the fear that lingers keeps me from focusing on what’s important.Lily is okay, and it was nothing more than a scary fall. Nothing is broken.

She’s resting in my arms, calming me with her whiny snores.

“You need to get some rest, Camille. We’ve been here since yesterday, and you haven’t so much as stretched your limbs. I’ll stay with her while you go grab some coffee and a snack.”

“No thanks.” Adjusting a sleeping Lily on my chest, I sweep her hair back from her face, grimacing as the bruising becomes more pronounced. “I’ll crash once we get back. Once she’s out, and back in her own bed. In our home.”

“Lily is fine, dear. Kids fall all the time.”

“I know that, but—”

“Knock. Knock.” The attending pediatrician comes in then with a smile. Her expression puts me at ease. “I come bearing some good news, Ms. Johnson. You can take her home in a few hours.”

“Really?”

The doctor nods before looking down at her clipboard. “We know she doesn’t have any fractures, but we want one more look to make sure there’s still no swelling. The tech will be by in an hour for a CT scan, and if all is the same as I think it will be, Lily will be back home tonight.”

“Thank you so much,” I breathe out, beyond grateful. One of my fears last night was social services being called and Lily taken from me. But these people have been more than understanding; they see that the scariest moment of my life thus far was seeing her trip and hit her forehead on the corner of our coffee table. That it was an accident.

I’m tossing that thing as soon as we get home.

“None needed. We’re glad the little one is going home with Mommy soon.” With that she leaves, closing the door behind her. And as she does, I close my eyes, snuggling my girl while breathing in her soft scent.

Everything will be okay. More than.

My cellphone vibrates atop a small table beside us, and I reach over blindly for it. I swipe the screen with one eye open, and cringe. It’s Jet again.

He’s been trying since yesterday. First, to ask that I cover a shift, which I said no to. And today, to make sure I’m coming in.

I’m dodging him.

Yesterday showed me that my priorities are here in my arms and I need to spend less time thinking about him. About an us that will never be.

“Answer him, or I will.” Sandy huffs, she doesn’t approve of my avoidance—thinks I should just tell him the truth and let the chips fall where they may.

“Pushy much?”

“Don’t be a punk, kid. Text him back.”

And so I do.

The second I hit send, I know it is a mistake.

“This too shall pass, sweetheart. Please eat. Lily needs you healthy.” Sandy pushes a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, but I don’t acknowledge it or her. I can’t eat. My stomach has been in knots, my appetite almost nonexistent since Jet left a few days ago.

If I am being honest with myself, this sense of loss came before then. When he ignored our kiss and then gave my tables to Ana.

Hope is an asshole, and when it blooms in my heart, I now know better than to let it grow. After he pushed me away, I let him in again. Gave him another kiss. Let him taste me. Touch parts of me that no one else ever had.

Jet is and was my first encounter with a man, and the way he threw me out after hurt. But then again, that moment is nothing when you compare it to coming here and treating me like scum. He never gave me the chance to explain. To ask for forgiveness.

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