23. Bonds & Burgers

twenty-three

Cam

Hayden hands me the grease-soaked paper bag and tosses himself backward onto my couch.

"They forgot the fry sauce," I frown, as I pull out two foil-wrapped burgers and a ridiculously large cardboard container of french fries.

"I can try to wave down the driver," Hayden offers. "But I think he left already."

I shake my head, melting into the green velvet sofa.

"It's fine," I mumble, pointing the remote at the television. "Everything is fine."

A loud sigh escapes Hayden's mouth, and he chews his lower lip.

"You know, trauma bonds aren't permanent," he says softly. "Unless you want them to be." My stomach twists as I sit there, staring blankly at the burger in my hand. "You didn't call him, right?"

I shake my head.

"No. I was able to get a same-day appointment with Dr. Burton, and he talked me out of it."

Hayden nods, growing quiet. He unwraps his squashed burger, then looks at me earnestly, those pretty blue eyes melting me.

"So, why end it then?"

He asks it almost like he's scared to, which is funny because, even though he'd never say it out loud, he's the one who told me this thing with Violet was a bad idea. And he was right.

"Because clearly, it wasn't doing what it was supposed to," I answer.

Hayden's head tilts, his brow quirking. "Which was…"

"Help me move on from Cody?" I sigh, slumping further into the couch. "Trauma bonds are stupid," I mutter.

Hayden pats my shoulder gently.

"How'd she take it?" he asks.

I toss a cold, un-sauced fry into my mouth, staring at the purple loading screen in front of me. Hayden hangs his head.

"You didn't tell her?"

I scrunch my nose as I pull the wrapper off my burger and see a slimy red tomato right in the center between the melted cheese and the shredded iceberg lettuce. My eyes dart over to Hayden, and the moment they land on him, I know I have to talk.

"No," I admit, swapping my burger for the one in his hand. I inspect it closely. "Not exactly. I mean, I didn't say ‘I'm never having sex with you again.' But it was impli—this one has tomatoes too!"

I let out a disgusted huff, dropping the burger onto the coffee table in front of me. Hayden picks it up.

"Implied how?" he asks, pulling back the top bun. He peels off the tomatoes, dropping it onto his own wrapper, then carefully scrapes off any seeds and juices as well. He puts it back together and hands it to me.

"I mean," I take it slowly and inspect it once more before taking a heaping bite. "I kinda just said I would see her at work."

Hayden's blonde eyebrow quirks, his cheeks puffed out with chewed hamburger.

"Huh?"

I swallow, the burger sliding down my throat with just the tiniest hint of tomato taste on it.

It's fine. It's fine.

"I just said we weren't meeting up, that I was busy. And then I told her I'd see her at work. Like, only at work."

Hayden nods, and on a cot in the corner, Dawson and Major throw each other around like it's a WWE match.

"And you said that? That you'd only see her at work?"

I pause, reaching for another disappointing french fry. "Well… not exactly."

"Cam! How is she supposed to know you broke things off if—"

"It was implied!" I huff, furrowing my brows at him. Hayden sighs.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. And you're… okay?"

A stifled laugh pops out of me. I'm doing just fine. Sure, I liked what we had going. Violet helped me explore things I didn't even know existed. I didn't have to chat up a bunch of strangers, and it was on a schedule, part of my routine, which helped me anticipate the new things too. They didn't just hit me out of nowhere. But clearly, it was failing to help me move on. And it was supposed to be brief. I prepared for it to be. So of course, I'm fine.

"I'm the one who broke it off," I say, pulling a big white comforter over us. "Aren't I?"

Hayden nods.

"Yeah, sure. But..." He shakes his head. "You're going to have to see her tomorrow. And the week after that, and the week after that. Is that going to be…"

"It's no-strings, Hay," I say. "That's the point. It isn't going to be anything because it was just for sex."

Hayden swallows another bite of his burger. "But isn't work… strings?"

I groan, dramatically lifting my back off the sofa just so I can toss it backwards again for the effect.

"Not this again, please."

"Sorry." He shrugs. "I just fail to see how it's no-strings-attached when there's like…" He starts counting on his fingers silently, his soft indigo eyes scanning the ceiling like he's searching for a memory. "Three strings, at least."

I scoff. "How'd you jump from one to three?"

He scoots closer to me on the couch, rubbing his palms against the denim on his thighs, before holding them out in front of him.

"Okay so you've got the job, obviously." He holds one finger up. "And then there's me. She's Major's trainer, so even if you hadn't worked at Furry Friends, I would have brought her up eventually."

I look at him, unconvinced. "That isn't a very compelling argument."

He ignores me and throws up another finger.

"And lastly, she's hot." He leans back against the couch, waving a hand. "Respectfully."

"How exactly is being hot a string?" I ask, cocking a brow.

"It's not," he says dismissively. "Unless she has a good personality too, which she does. That's why—" He lifts his hand, performing "A.D.D." in sign language. "But it's a little late for that."

I shoot him a glare, but he just returns it with a sickly-sweet smile. Then his gaze grows serious, his expression soft.

"Really though," he says, his head tilting slightly to look at me. "You're really okay? With everything that happened and letting it all go?"

I know Hayden is just trying to take care of me. He's like Adrian in that way, always trying to help other people. But I don't know how many times it's going to take to convince him I really am fine. Maybe part of it is because I haven't fully confronted it, but I think Violet got the gist. I'm more disappointed in myself than anything else. I was convinced, for a fleeting moment, that I really was moving on.

"I'm fine," I say again, putting extra emphasis on the "fine." Hayden chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'm proud of you, Cam," he says, his hand sliding over to squeeze mine. I smile. "Just six months ago, you wouldn't let me toss a piece of lint, and now look at you with your no-strings attached and your—" He picks up the greasy paper bag. "Sauceless french fries."

I scowl, snatching the bag from his hand.

To be fair, that piece of lint came from Dawson's first plushie. It's dead now, of course. The eyes went first. But I kept one of the little tufts of fur that fell off on the way to the garbage can.

"I thought you were here to make me feel better."

Hayden stands up, walking over to the refrigerator. He pulls out a container of mayonnaise, then reaches in again, grabbing a bottle of ketchup.

"Why would I need to make you feel better if you're fine?" He shoots me a taunting smile over his shoulder, and I flip him off.

"What are you doing?"

Hayden walks closer to me with a bowl in his hand, whisking a spoon around inside it to mix something up. His gaze flicks up to me, and he holds the bowl out in my direction.

"Making you fry sauce."

We don't talk about it after that. Not much at least. He shoots me worried glances every now and then, and I pretend I don't see them and stare at the Dahmer documentary playing on the television instead. When Hayden leaves, I practically drown in those big, lanky arms of his.

"I appreciate you," I say, squeezing him tightly.

Hayden brushes the back of my head with his hand.

"I appreciate you too, Cam." He beckons Major to his side and hooks his harness around his body. "Call me if you need me?"

I nod, and Hayden steps out the front door into the cold winter night.

My head snaps up, my body bent in an unnatural position from passing out on my apartment-sized couch.

"What she didn't know," says a voice on the television, deep and pronounced. "…is that something more sinister was waiting for her inside."

I sit up, wiping a smudge of drool off the side of my cheek in the process as I scramble to find the remote. If falling asleep to serial-killer documentaries could get you on a watch list, I'd be on the FBI's Most Wanted. The screen goes black when I press the off button, the voice coming to an abrupt end. But I jump back, my heart thrumming against my ribcage, when it's replaced by a loud knock ringing through the living room.

Dawson erupts into an uncontrollable fit of barking, which seems to be a theme for him lately. I groan, peeling myself off of the couch.

Hayden must have forgotten something.

"Shh," I shush Dawson, scooting him to the side as I open the door.

But there isn't a tall, charming, blonde-haired man towering over me. Instead, I jump backwards, clutching my chest as I stare directly at a blood-soaked Violet.

"I didn't know where to go."