21. Cameron

CHAPTER 21

CAMERON

My throat feels like I've chugged acid, and my mouth tastes like it, too. Damnit, my head and back hurt. Where did I fall asleep? The fuck is that beeping sound?

Once I manage to pry my eyes open, the beeping sound gets faster. I try to say something, but all that comes out is a croaking sound. I'm in a dimly lit hospital room, with wires and tubes all over the place. The beeping gets louder and faster. My hands fly up to my chest, then my face. I accidentally dislodge the tube blowing air up my nose. Before I can attempt to sit up, a large body runs into the room and is at my side like a blur.

Dom.

"Hey," he says. "It's okay. You're okay. You're, uh, in the hospital."

"Duh," I croak out, because "obviously" seems too much to get out right away.

Dom chuckles and kisses my hand, then my forehead and my cheek, then my hand again. Someone clears their throat in the doorway. A heavyset woman with her hair pulled back in a severe bun crosses her arms and looks pointedly at Dom, pursing her lips.

"His mom went to get coffee. There's only one person in here right now."

" Mmhmm ." The nurse rolls her eyes and looks at me. "Like he hasn't run in here every time you twitched in the past four hours."

I feel my lips quirk up on one side, which keeps them from wobbling for a moment, but then the tears spill over.

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry," Dom murmurs. "What do you remember?"

The nurse comes to my other side, fixing the nasal canula and taking note of my vitals. She nods to Dom when he asks if I can have water, and I sip it gratefully. She's either waiting for me to answer, or Dom isn't allowed to be in here alone for some reason.

"I was in my dressing room. I wasn't feeling well. Emile was calling for my understudy. I panicked, and then, nothing." I look at Dom, tears and snot clogging my already hoarse voice. "What happened? The show, I?—"

"Fuck the show and fuck that massive?—"

"Dom!" My mother's sharp voice cuts through whatever he was about to say next. "You're going to upset him."

"He's already upset. I thought he might like to know—" Dom stops, and I fall a little more in love with him when he looks back down at me, realizing that they're talking over me when I'm awake and right here. "This wasn't your fault."

"Mr. Connor—" the nurse starts.

"I know, I know," he says, and squeezes my hand gently before passing the water cup to my mom. "I'm just outside, okay?" My eyes dart around the room, confused as to why he has to leave. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Why isn't he allowed to stay?" I ask, looking from the nurse to my mother and back.

"Just one family member at a time," the nurse says. "Anyway… Welcome back, Mr. Stevens. I'm Irene. I'm going to ask you a few questions, and then we'll get the doctor in here to talk to you."

Irene has me squeeze her hands, follow her penlight all around, and asks me easy things like my name, date of birth, whether I know where I am, and what year it is. Once she seems satisfied, she says she'll be back with the doctor as soon as possible. There's a trauma in the emergency room that might take some time. She instructs me to drink water slowly and not try to get up until the doctor clears me, then leaves me alone in the room with my mom. I can't help sending glances to where Dom is standing outside the window like my own personal guard. He's a bit menacing, actually. I don't hate it, but I wish he'd come back in and hold my hand.

When I glance back at my mother, she's watching me carefully, her expression sad and regretful.

"Is anyone going to tell me what happened?"

"We were hoping you'd have some answers for us, sweetie. But we'll get to the bottom of this."

"But Dom said?—"

"What you remember is more important, Cami."

Then it occurs to me. She knows.

"Did he tell you? That we're together," I specify, just in case she wants to play dumb to avoid the topic. Not that she's normally one to run from a hard conversation, but it's clear she doesn't want to talk about this, and I can't think of why.

"It was kind of obvious when he went charging backstage because he was worried about you. And then the way he cared for you was so… familiar. Intimate."

I can't help the blush that warms my cheeks. "And you kicked him out because…"

"Cami, we'll talk about this later. Right now, we need to focus on getting you healthy. You stopped eating enough and look what happened."

The parts of tonight that I can remember, I was shaky and feeling weak. I could barely lift Daphne during rehearsals or the performance. I'm surprised Emile let me go on after my poor performance. Then again, he was in rare form all day, from one end of the mood spectrum to the next. He was livid with me and making threats, then he was apologizing and throwing me a party. I never signed the paperwork…

"What are you thinking about?"

"Emile. He gave me a contract to officially sign on as principal dancer?—"

"Oh, honey, congratulations!"

"—but I didn't sign it yet. And then this happened. I was thinking that I'm not even upset about it."

"Well, you might be experiencing a little bit of shock." Shock or exhaustion. I just woke up, and I'm already desperate to go back to sleep.

On the other side of the wall, I hear Dom's low voice mutter something that sounds like it contains several obscenities. My mother's eye flutter shut and then back open again, focusing on me.

"I thought you liked him," I say quietly, although I feel certain Dom is hanging on to every word.

"I did." She sighs heavily. "I do. I'm just… not sure about this whole thing. I think I might still be in shock."

"He's a good man," I tell her. "Like Dwayne."

Her eyes close again, and they're glossy when they open. "I know he is. It's just going to take some time to get used to the idea of you being with someone my age."

"We both know you're older than me, Cora," Dom calls through the window.

"You're not helping yourself, Dom," I call back.

Any other time, it would probably be a moment that called for laughter, but as it is, there's a strained energy in the room. The tension is broken when Irene returns with a tall woman with green scrubs that highlight the olive tones of her dark skin.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Stevens," the doctor says.

"You can call me Cameron," I say tiredly.

"I'm glad to see you awake so soon. I'm sure you're feeling quite groggy."She's right. I'm barely holding on to consciousness at this point.

"We'll let you rest again soon, but I'd like to go over some of your labs and discuss a treatment plan with you, if you think you can stay awake for that?" I nod. "First, I just want to ask you some simple questions that might sound silly, and then get your account of what you remember. This will help me determine that you're able to make decisions for yourself as well as confirm some of what we might already know."

She starts with some of the same or similar questions that the nurse asked, identifying myself and making sure I know where I am, etc. I repeat what I remember of the night before I blacked out. Now that I've been awake for a few minutes, I can remember a few other details that didn't come to me before. Like drinking a sports drink and thinking it was odd that Emile was willingly giving me sugar, no matter how sick I was. He's been ridiculously strict lately.

"At least now we know why the vomit was blue," my mom says, trying to lighten the atmosphere before I start crying again. I look helplessly over at Dom lurking outside the door, and then at my mother, pleading with her to be reasonable. I know I could make the decision for myself and demand he be allowed in the room, but I'd rather have both of them with me. She sighs and asks the doctor if it would be okay to have Dom join us.

Dom doesn't even wait for an answer, my mother's permission enough for him to cross the threshold and come straight to my side. He gets to his knees beside the bed and takes my hand in his, kissing the fingers he weaves between his.

The doctor's eyebrow raises, and then she seems to melt a little. Whatever her opinion of Dom was before, she softens after seeing his affectionate care for me. I can't wait to ask what he did to piss off all the staff, but that'll have to wait. The doctor continues with her assessment.

"Your tox screen came back positive," she says, giving Dom an acknowledging nod. "It will take a few days or up to a week to get the full panel back to find out what drugs are in your system, but it looks like you were likely given something without your knowledge or consent. Mr. Connor mentioned that something similar happened to you recently?"

My nose tingles and my eyes grow hot. I look down at my lap and scrunch my face to avoid crying. "Several weeks back, at an afterparty. I thought it was an accident, that maybe the spiked drink was given to me by mistake. I'd drank less than half of it, but I got really sick. I recognized the effects from something that happened almost two years ago. I'd had a bad reaction to something, but I'd been drinking a lot back then, and?—"

"It's not your fault, Cameron. No matter what you were doing, or drinking, or wearing— no one has the right to do something like this to you. It is not your fault ," she repeats, and I lose the battle not to cry. It all comes out at once, in an aching sob. Before I know it, I'm being scooped into Dom's arms so he can hold me closer to his chest. The doctor and nurse protest, but he's careful of the IV tubes, and gentle enough that he barely jostles me. Dr. Johansen reaches a hand to stop Nurse Irene from calling security. They give me a moment to break down in his arms, waiting until the worst of the sobbing stops to keep talking.

"Whatever you've been given on any of these occasions—most likely Rohypnol, if I had to guess—you had a bad reaction, which could be due to an underlying allergy, which would explain why you've gotten so sick in the past even when you haven't ingested much. It could also explain the severe reaction you had to being exposed again." She gives me a patient and understanding look. "If you're willing, talking to the police could help you narrow down who did this to you." Dom's body stiffens, causing his arms to tighten around me slightly. "It seems Mr. Connor has a strong opinion about who might be responsible. Finding out for sure could go a long way towards healing some of what you're carrying, Cameron."

A large part of me wants to let this go, so I never have to deal with Emile or any of these feelings ever again, but burying it all will only get me so far. I covered up my fears and trauma from the incident two years ago by closing myself off and controlling every single part of my life that I had any say in. It's ultimately why Emile was able to get under my skin and wreak havoc on my self-confidence the way he did. I know all of this, logically. But stopping it, and making healthy changes and progress towards healing rather than covering it up and trying to forget, is going to take actual work. It's going to open up old wounds and maybe create new ones.

I burrow into Dom, melting into his comforting, protective embrace.

"I'm in your corner," he whispers into the back of my hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

The knowledge that I have him to support me, no matter what I decide, helps me take that first step. I nod, agreeing to speak with the police. Dom asks if it can wait until the morning, when I've had more chance to rest, and Dr. Johansen agrees.

"Of course. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation. Some more fluids will go a long way to helping you recover faster, as well as a decent meal once your stomach is settled enough." She pauses, making me look up, wondering if she's done and I can go back to sleep. "I'd also like to give you a referral to a psychologist that specializes in trauma and eating disorders." I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up her hands. "It's not about weight, or whether you've purposely starved yourself. It's about regaining the loss of control you feel that caused strict eating habits in the first place."

"I've always been careful about my diet. It's just part of being a professional dancer."

Dr. Johansen nods but encourages me to try a few sessions to see how I feel. "You never know how it could help," she says in a way that makes me feel she has some experience on the matter. So I agree, for now. I can always change my mind later. I'm too tired to think about anything else right now.

"Get some rest, and I'll check in with you before the morning shift change," the doctor says. She gives Nurse Irene a few orders to write up for overnight treatment and bids us goodnight.

Once the nurse has replenished my IV fluids bag and added a familiar bright yellow bag to the mix, she reminds us that only one person can stay in the room overnight but tells us she'll give us a few minutes to decide.

My mom makes the decision, even though I can tell it's hard for her.

"Dom, why don't you stay tonight? I'm sure Dwayne is out of his mind with worry. I should—" She looks down at me, unsure of how to proceed. "Is it okay for me to tell him anything, or what can I tell him?"

"It's okay," I tell her. "You can tell him anything you need to. He's family, and I don't want him to worry."

"Baby, I don't think anyone's done worrying just yet, but we'll get there." She kisses me on the forehead, whispering that she loves me. "We'll see you in the morning, and we'll bring breakfast." She pauses again, staring at Dom with wide, uncertain eyes. Then she pats him awkwardly on the arm and backs away, picking up her purse from the floor under the chair she was sitting in. "Call me if anything changes, or if you need me."

Finally, it's just the two of us. I have so much that I want to say, that I need to say, but it's too much to process right now. My head is heavy, the weight of everything pulling me down.

Dom situates us on the suddenly too-small hospital bed. There's significantly less space than there was when I woke up alone, but it's far more comfortable with half my body curled over his. My hand with the IV is resting carefully on his stomach, our legs entwined, and my head on his chest.

"Sleep, baby. We'll figure it all out in the morning."

When mom and Dwayne return in the morning, there's so much to talk about that no one seems to know where to start. Dwayne won't so much as look at Dom. It's clear that he's only here for my mother, and that's understandable. Not only am I worried that I've ruined whatever relationship we finally started to build, but the lack of playful banter and affection between the brothers is palpable. I don't know how to fix this, but talking about things and getting them out in the open seems to have been a good start for everything else.

We're using my hospital bed as a makeshift table, with me sitting up cross-legged on one end of the bed and the rest of them situated around the end with chairs. Dom is sitting on my right, and mom and Dwayne are on my left. Everyone has a breakfast sandwich wrapped in wax paper. Even though I'm committed to loosening some of the control I have over my diet, I'm thankful to see that my sandwich is actually a wrap with egg whites, spinach, and avocado on one of my favorite high-protein, low carb tortillas.

"I didn't want to make your stomach upset by going straight for the cheese and bacon," Dwayne mutters without making eye contact. Of course, he made the breakfast himself. Because he's amazing and wonderful, just like his goddamned brother.

"I don't want you to hate me!" I blurt.

Dwayne finally looks at me. Really looks at me. His eyes soften and he darts a glance at my mother. His eyes shift towards his brother, but he stops himself from actually looking at him. It breaks my heart.

"I don't hate you," he finally says. The disappointment is there in his tone, though. And it might not be something I can fix.

"I think we're all going to need some time to process some of these… revelations," my mom says diplomatically. Dwayne scoffs, and she elbows him. He still doesn't look at Dom but suggests we all eat before the police come to take my statement.

After breakfast, my mom and Dwayne step outside while I get dressed. Dom insists on staying and helping in case I get dizzy or need help. I don't, but it's nice having him close.

Dom joins my parents in the hallway while I'm talking to the police officer. I give him a flash drive that Dwayne brought. Apparently, he found some other interesting things in the footage that I'm not even aware of yet, but I give it to the police officer anyway, not knowing what's on there. Dwayne gives the officer the contact information for the manager at the bar so he can follow up and make sure there's an appropriate paper trail. I give him Emile's information and tell him everything that happened yesterday before the performance. He wrote down Mark and Theo’s names as well, and I also gave him Marissa and Heath's information. The one thing keeping me strong, besides having Dom in my corner supporting me, is the thought that maybe coming forward will help the others who have been hurt by Emile. I'm acutely aware that it puts me at risk of retaliation if nothing comes of it, but at this point I can't see moving forward in my dance career if I'm always going to be tied to Emile Alistar.

What else could he ruin for me?