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63
Camdyn
Boston
Acall breaches my dreamless sleep. Every night, the same emptiness pulls me under. I almost beg for my fucking childhood night terrors. The storm in my eyes flares at the sight of Willow’s number on the phone. It’s right before seven a.m., which means it’s three-something her time. “Lo, are you ok—”
“Where’s my invitation?”
“I haven’t heard your voice in months, Lo. I’m glad you called.” A beat passes, and the true reason for her call clicks. With a dry, humorless laugh, I add, “Ahh, the therapy sesh. I was at a Red Sox game last night.”
“So, you graduated from therapy already, or did you give up?”
My teeth grit. I mentally count to ten then inhale. “You read my texts every day, Willow. I ain’t a quitter. My cousin Blythe’s on a rookie team. A player in the major leagues had an injury . . .” That doesn’t matter. “Willow, I’m honest to God elated you called, baby. I—”
“Oh,” she cuts in. “Tell me more about Boston.”
Fuck Boston. Screw everything but us.I sigh, counting my blessings that Willow’s reached out. “The Irish dude, Kieran, flew my entire clan out.” Everyone but Jamie. “Kieran’s been in Scotland for much longer than he expected. We all linked up to support Blythe last night. That ambitious fucker was playing for the rookie team while doing other things,”
“Other secret, possibly deadly clan missions?” I hear her smile through the phone.
“He’s a pretty fair dude, though. Only . . .”
“Avenged wrongs? Like someone I once knew.”
God, I miss how we once segued off each other. “Once knew? Fu—forget that. The two of us are mad about each other, Lo.”
I pause a few beats to let Willow agree or deny. She does neither. “How was the game?”
At her detachment, the heat of raw pain enters my voice. “The game was good. I had a bevy, I mean, one celebratory beer. First drink of alcohol since I last tasted your lips. Willow, I’ve been totally sober. No hard liquor, no drugs, no weed. I miss—”
“Heh, because I threw up on you?” At the delight in her voice, the hotel room I’m in disappears. I envision my version of paradise. My face planted between her thighs.
“That might’ve had something to do with it. Willow, I fucking miss you.” The declaration wrenches my soul. Darkness flashes in my eyes, and I await her response.
A heavy exhale expels through the receiver. “When will you be home, Cam?”
Like I’m possessed, I go from lying down to standing up straight in one fluid movement. “Right now.”
“Cam, don’t. I just had a bad night. Anyway, I’ll be here.”
“Home or Spelman?”
She chuckles. “Tatum’s a snitch.”
“Nah. She’s Team Lo. Congrats on stealing my friend. You’re at LA Trade Tech, Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Hah, you’re aware of my schedule.”
“Just the pinpoint until you block me or forgive me.” I scrub my fingernails over my stubbled jaw, heart stalled in my chest.
“You were exactly what I needed when my mom was in a coma.” Willow hesitates. “A beautiful distraction.”
I plunge through the pillow-top mattress, through all thirty levels of hotel suites, and descend into the pit of hell. Furious flames wrap around me. My strained tone echoes in my ears as I ask, “That’s it?”
“Call me when you come home. Okay?”
Knuckles stiff from clutching my iPhone, I reply, “Now that you’re answering, I’m gonna call you morning, noon, and night. Let me come see you?”
