Looking down at Ari, her head is tucked away in my neck. “Ari, sweetheart, this is your grandfather.”

She eyes him cautiously, probably trying to piece it all together in her little mind.

“She’s beautiful,” my father says, wiping his tears. “She looks just like you.”

He doesn’t say anything about Kyle and I’m grateful. I’m sure it’ll come up eventually but I won’t bring it up now. That’s a whole different can of worms I’m just not ready to open yet. And I hope I won’t have to. We spend a little while talking, my father making his intention to be part of my life, and Ari’s, clear. I have no idea how to feel about it, except cautious. Is it strange that I don’t trust him after all this time? Maybe, but it’s not just me that I have to be cautious for.

Later, once my father has left, and Ari is safely tucked in bed, Cameron finally shows up and I practically throw myself at him.

“Hey,” he chuckles. “I didn’t think you’d miss me that much. You saw me a few hours ago.”

He pulls away, frowning as soon as he sees my red, blotchy face and puffy eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I shake my head and hold onto him tighter, not quite capable of saying anything yet. After my father left, I spent a good thirty minutes holed up in my room, crying all over again. It felt like all of the anger and indignation that I’ve kept bottled up for all this time left my body all at once, in the form of an epic tear-and-snot filled episode. Strangely enough, I felt like I needed it.

“Is she okay?” Cameron asks my grandmother, who walks past us on her way out of the kitchen.

“She’s fine, dear. Why don’t you take her up to bed, she just needs some rest and tomorrow she’ll be right as rain.”

I hear my grandmother make her way upstairs and then I’m airborne, cradled in Cameron’s arms and pressed against his chest. He places me on the bed and starts undressing me, giving way to my need to numb what I’m feeling. I crush my mouth to his, catching him off guard and making him fall onto the bed with me. I grab him, desperate to forget the mess inside my head for a little while.

“Whoa,” Cameron says, holding me to his chest instead of pushing me away. “Easy there, tiger.”

“I want you,” I whisper. I try to capture his mouth with mine again but he dodges my efforts and I feel a slight sting of rejection.

“Don’t you want me?” I ask petulantly. I’m whining, and I know it, but I’m desperate.

“Of course I do,” Cameron replies gently. “I always want you. But not like this.”

I look away, and try to push myself away from Cameron. I’m suddenly trying to escape and it seems I can’t do it fast enough. My own behavior embarrasses me. What am I doing? Why am I behaving like a total nut job right now?

Cameron wraps an arm around my waist. “You’re not going anywhere,” he says, crushing me to him. “Not until you talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, Hayley, I hate seeing you this upset and not knowing how to make it better.”

I keep my face averted, afraid that if I look at him I’ll crack and then he’ll think I really have gone mental.

“My father was here.” I don’t recognize my own voice, it sounds foreign. It’s hoarse.

“What? Why was he here? And after two years?”

I relay the story to Cameron, leaving out the part about Kimber and the sex video. I should feel guilty about that but right now I feel nothing but emotional exhaustion. Cameron listens, allowing me to cry until I have no tears left. He doesn’t judge me, or tell me I’m crazy for being so emotional. Instead, he wipes my tears and runs me a hot bath. He allows me to draw from his quiet strength, remaining quiet as he takes care of me. It isn’t until we’re curled up in bed, wrapped around each other, that I realize what he’s actually done, and what he’s still doing.

He’s loving me.

Chapter 17

~ Cameron ~

Hayley’s fingers trail down my arm as she traces the lines of my tattoo. It’s an angel, with her head on my shoulder, and wings that come down to my elbow. Her scanty clothing is ripped, showing off her abdomen, parts of her breasts and her butt exposed. It was my first tat, and is probably still my favorite.

“And this one?” she asks.

My fingers slip through her hair as she gazes at me. My body hums, heating at all the points where our bodies touch. I’m relieved to see the smile on her face, the one she reserves for when we’re alone like this. When I arrived at her grandmother's house last night, Hayley was a mess. But this morning, curled up against my side, asking me about my ink, she looks happy. She’s only been awake for an hour, and decided to familiarize herself with the letters and pictures that permanently mark my skin. I woke up a little before she did, and decided to spend some time with Ari. Just like her mother, the little munchkin has crawled into my heart and burrowed herself a nice, cozy spot. And with the two of them occupying the space in my chest, my heart feels lighter and fuller at the same time. Noah would tell me I’m a pussy if I ever had to say this out loud, so I keep it to myself, tucked away for when the time is right to tell Hayley that I think I might love her.

“Noah and I got these when we turned eighteen. He has a redhead on his left arm.”

“Does it have any significance?”

“No,” I chuckle. “We got it on a dare. Noah said I wouldn’t have the balls to get something so big, so I said if he got it, I would, too.”

Hayley’s hand drags across my chest, making my skin break out in gooseflesh. Her giggle travels from her body onto mine and I fight a shiver. Her face is light, her troubles from the night before gone.

She shifts and pulls herself further up. “What does this one say?” She points to the scroll that spans my rib cage, starting just below my pec and ending above my hip. Her mouth moves as she whispers the words…

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next. Amen.

“I got it a year after the accident,” I say, somewhat absentmindedly, my voice low. “I wanted to believe that there is a reason it was my dad, and not me, and that it was all part of God’s elaborate plan we call ‘Life’.”

Hayley’s lips brush against my skin, her eyes piercing mine. She has disarmed me in every way imaginable, but I don’t know how to tell her yet.

Her hands drift back up, over my chest, counting the three stars on each pec, and then come to a stop on my forearm.

“That one says ‘Love Cannot Save You From Your Own Fate,” I tell her before she gets the chance to ask. Her brows arch.

“I never thought I’d see a tattoo about love anywhere on your body,” she replies quietly.

“I got it at a time in my life when I thought love was nothing more than a farce, something to give us false hope when we feel alone and lost. I didn’t believe it existed.”