32. Nightmares

thirty-two

Violet

Hayden's call came in the middle of my walk with Reese. I've been sticking around the neighborhood lately, keeping an airhorn tucked in a holster around my waist just in case, so it only took a few minutes to rush back home and throw myself into my car.

Cam had been asleep for twenty minutes by the time I arrived at the Urgent Care. Luckily, her concussion is only grade one, but that was still enough reason for me to stay over for a few hours to keep an eye on her.

A sharp pain jolts through my ribcage, my eyes shooting open.

Shit. Did I fall asleep?

I look around Cam's room as I gain consciousness, only a small beam of moonlight trickling through the gap in the gray blackout curtains over her window. I must have passed out during the movie we had been watching. Flashes of cookie-cutter white men, Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon, flip through my mind.

Another sharp jolt travels through my side, and I wince, sitting up quickly. My blurry eyes focus as they travel downwards. Cam is lying in the bed next to me, her frizzy hair strewn across half her face, her lips swollen, eyebrows furrowed. But "laying" may not be the right word. She's more flailing, rotating vigorously as small indiscernible murmurs leave her mouth.

Then, another jab. Her elbow digs its way into my thigh this time with force, and I hiss.

"Fuck," I mumble, rubbing the tender spot. Cam keeps tossing around, her voice growing louder, yet still not saying actual words. At least none I can make out. Her puffy lips part, her brows press together harder.

"Cam," I whisper, shaking her shoulder softly. Cam doesn't wake up, but her chest starts to heave faster, her head jolting around in unconscious panic. I shake her again. "Hey, Cam."

But she still doesn't wake up. She whimpers actually, sucking in a quiet gasp as her breathing intensifies, her body moving toward panic. It reminds me of that day in the storage closet during her anxiety attack. Inconsolable. Breathless. Scared.

"Cam," I say again, shaking her harder this time. "Cam wake up. It's okay. You're—"

Cam's eyes shoot open, her lips parting wide as she sucks in a loud gasp and sits. She has this bewildered look on her face, like she doesn't know where she is. I brush the hair out of her eyes, and Cam's gaze darts around the room in a frenzy, her chest heaving.

I don't hesitate any longer. I slide myself behind her, wrapping my arms around her chest, pressing firmly but gently, just like I saw Avery do. I can feel her heartbeat through her ribcage, pounding against the inside like it's trying to find a way out. I hold her there for a moment, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

"You're okay," I whisper. "It's not your fault. You're okay. It's not your fault."

Cam's chest heaves against my arms, but I hold them steady. The scent of her sweet mint shampoo wafts into my nose as I lie there. Her hands shake in small fists, and I can only imagine the holes her short nails are digging into her palms. She had help last time. A medication. I'm not sure that it's a good idea for her to take it, not after getting a concussion only a few hours ago. When I asked the nurse at the Urgent Care if Cam was allowed to, she said only if it was an emergency.

I don't know if this classifies as an emergency or not. I just know I don't want her to go through another second of it.

I scan the room for Cam's blue backpack, the one she brings with her almost everywhere. I don't see it.

"Where's your meds?" I ask. But she doesn't reply. I keep one arm pressed against her chest, then use the free one to dig through the bedside table drawer. There are two orange pill bottles inside.

I grab the first one, the heavier one, reading the label.

Cameron Miller

Prozac - Fluoxetine

Take two (2) 10mg capsules daily before bed.

I open the bottle, teal and white pills filled to the top. It doesn't look like this has ever been touched, and it doesn't look like what Avery had given her in the storage closet. I set it down and grab the next one.

Cameron Miller

Xanax - Alprazolam

Take two (2) 2mg tablets as needed for anxiety.

I open it to find only four small white rectangular pills remaining. This is the one. I stare at it for a moment, contemplating.

What classifies as an emergency?

Frozen between my legs, Cam continues gasping for air. I stop thinking about it and pour out two pills in my hand, before reaching for the water bottle sitting on the nightstand. I slide the pills between Cam's lips, just as Avery had done, and she opens her mouth, taking them inside. Then, I lift the bottle up, positioning the straw between her teeth.

After she finishes drinking, I wrap both arms back around her chest and squeeze. Her hands grab my wrists, and I would much prefer she leave deep bruising crescents on my skin than her own.

I breathe in slowly, like I always do when I'm trying to regain control.

"In. Hold. Out," I instruct quietly. Cam's breath shakes as she tries to follow along, her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers sinking further into my skin. "In. Hold. Out."

Her heart thumps against my forearms, small whistles ring in her breaths as she breathes alongside me.

"It isn't your fault," I whisper, following the pattern. Cam's body relaxes slowly as she continues it, her grip around my wrist loosening. "Good. Good job."

Her body slowly eases into mine, the rise and fall of her chest steadily decreasing. I loosen the pressure on her chest, but I don't let go. I lie there, under her, feeling her body against mine, my face still buried into her neck, breathing in.

I press my lips to the back of her head, kissing it.

"You're okay, darling. You're okay."

My eyes flutter open sometime later, the room around me still dark and Cam's body still resting atop mine. I slide my arm off her, reaching carefully for my phone on the nightstand.

3:07 a.m.

I have about an hour and a half until I need to get to work. I still have to shower and change, and Reese still needs to eat and take his medication. But Cam's body moves like a wave on top of me, her steady breaths replacing the rapid ones hours prior. I want to stay here forever, her body relaxing into the safety of my arms. I want to stay and protect her from the things that torture her in her sleep.

I wasn't supposed to stay, I know that. And I probably should have left after she calmed down. But I couldn't stand the thought of it happening again and me not being here to help her. And to be completely honest, no part of me wanted to leave, even before I realized what was happening.

I never want to sleep again if I'm not sleeping next to Cam. Even though she woke me in a mumbling panic, I've never felt so at peace. Nothing compares to this, waking up to her body tangled in mine. Her smooth skin warm against my own, her hair pressed into my face. Everything about it is against that stupid contract, and everything about it makes me want her more. Makes me want her always.

It was an accident, all of it. Meeting her at Monsey's, telling her about my family, falling asleep next to her. None of it was supposed to happen. But I realize now, watching her dark lashes flutter against her cheeks, my fingertips resting on the skin of her stomach, that intention proves to be worthless when more powerful forces are at play.

The moon doesn't intend to shine. The snow doesn't intend to melt. And I had no intention of falling for her. Call it what you will: divine intervention or just a beautiful accident. But whatever happened to make this moment real will forever be appreciated by me.

This is only temporary—I know that to be true. But I would trade a lifetime of memories just for this moment. I slip carefully out from under her, making sure her body seamlessly slides onto the soft plush mattress. The thick white comforter is heavy in my hands as I pull it up and tuck her in.

Dawson hops onto the foot of the bed and curls into a tight ball, his nose pressed against his ribcage. Reese rests his chin on the bed too, but I motion for him to stay put so as to not wake her.

Cam looks at peace, her cheek squished against the pillow and her eyes shut softly. A small spot of drool pools next to her face, her lips parted just slightly. My stomach twists, my throat hardening.

I don't know how something as perfect as this wasn't supposed to happen.

A staggered breath slips through my lips, and I lean down. I brush her hair off her forehead and press my lips to it gently.