We fall into silence after that, even though I’m dying to ask him why he’s taking me to his house. Instead, I fold my hands in my lap and look out the window, watching the houses fly past us and note how they become bigger and bigger. Eventually we take a left and turn down a winding road, palatial sized homes taking up huge properties on each side. Cameron slows down and turns onto a paved driveway leading up to a beautiful, Georgian style home. He parks his truck in front of the garage and climbs out. I don’t wait for him to come to my side before I jump out. He looks at me as if he’s about to say something, but then appears to have thought twice about it. He shakes his head and walks up to the front door, allowing me to walk in first. The foyer is a large, open space. There are two staircases that go up to a landing on the next floor and the kitchen and living room extend to my right.

It’s eerily quiet and I don’t think anyone else is here except us. It’s strange. It reminds me of the night, two long years ago, when my life changed before I knew it. I want to say that was the night my life really began, but the events that followed made a new beginning impossible. Shaking the memory, I wait for Cameron to tell me what we’re doing here, why he brought me here. Silently, he slips his hand around mine, engulfing it. The gesture surprises me, but I don’t pull away. Something tells me Cameron needs it. We walk up the stairs and down the long hallway, passing bedrooms as we go. When we reach a closed door at the end, Cameron stops, never letting go of my hand, and looks at me. His expression is enough to knock me slightly off kilter because it’s not something I ever thought I’d see on his beautiful face. I clench my other fist, resisting the innate desire to cup his cheek and feel that bit of day old stubble. He squeezes my hand.

“Once I’ve shown you everything, and explained it all to you, you can leave if you want to. But just know that I wouldn’t change the day I met you for anything.” His face lowers and his lips brush my forehead. A multitude of possibilities run through my mind, all wrecking havoc with my already muddled feelings.

Cameron opens the door slowly, quietly. He blocks my view as he leads me into the room, the quietness infiltrated by the sound of a steady beep, and a swoosh. I don’t have time to wonder what it is because Cameron steps to the side and suddenly I feel a weight on my chest.

An older man is lying in a hospital bed. The beeping sound is coming from the machine that’s monitoring his heartbeat, and the swooshing sound is coming from a ventilator. It’s connected to the breathing tube that’s taped to the man’s mouth and I watch as his stomach moves up and down as the machine pumps air into his lungs, breathing for him.

Cameron still hasn’t let go of my hand. In fact, his grip has tightened. I look up to where he stands next to me, watching me, noticing how his face has paled slightly and that he looks bone tired. I see the struggle in the depths of his quicksilver eyes, how hard it is for him to show me this.

“This…” he pauses, swallowing audibly, looking back at the man in the bed. “Is my father, Michael.”

I gasp. It’s his father?

I try to say something but my vocal chords seem to be broken. What do I say to this anyway? Of all the possibilities that ran through my mind a moment ago, this wasn’t one of them. I want to ask what happened, but I don’t know how, or if I should. I don’t really know what to do.

Fortunately, Cameron makes that decision for me and decides we’ve spent enough time in this room. I can’t disagree, even if it’s only been ten minutes at most. He walks out, me in tow, closing the door, and takes me into a bedroom I can only assume is his. It’s light blue, with navy bedding on a king size four-poster bed. All kinds of swimming trophies and awards line the walls, but in no way does his room look like a boy’s room. It’s clean.

Silently, Cameron walks me over to his bed and when he sits down, I follow suit. He lets go of my hand and rubs his thighs nervously.

“It was two years ago,” he starts, lifting his head to look out the window. “Almost to the day.”

I shift, crossing my legs and tucking my feet under my butt. I don’t prompt Cameron to continue, I just wait for him to find the courage.

“I was at a party at a friends house. He stays on a ranch a few miles outside of town. I didn’t really drink much, just a beer or two since I was only nineteen. My dad came by just after midnight to pick me up and decided to let me drive.”

Cameron’s face remains impassive, but it’s the rest of his body that responds to the memory currently replaying itself in his mind. His muscles are rigid, his back straight, his hands balled into fists. Still, I wait.

“It happened so fast,” he continues. His face drops and he looks down. “I didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late.” His voice is soft and I can hear the pain, and the guilt. It’s almost smothering him, clogging up his throat. This time, I bring my hand up and rub his arm, hoping it will help him to relax.

“You can tell me, Cameron,” I encourage quietly. He doesn’t look at me but I wish he would. Somehow I think he’s worried that he’ll only see judgment if he had to look at me. That’s not true. Not even close.

“Something ran in front of my dad’s truck, and I swerved, trying to avoid it. But the truck’s tire burst and we rolled, several times. I don’t remember much after that, I don’t even remember how long we were there before someone found us and called for help. When I woke up in the hospital, about three days later, they told me I had sustained a concussion, a broken arm and a cracked rib,” he laughs but it’s bitter and derisive. “I asked about my dad and it took a while before anyone told me anything. I found out that he’d sustained a severe head trauma, broken ribs, a perforated lung and a cracked hip. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the possibility that he might never wake up. And he hasn’t.”

Cameron finally turns to face me. “I’m responsible for what happened to him. I tore our family apart.”

I frown. “How could you say that? It was an accident.”

He sighs. “It should’ve been me.”

“No!” I reply. “Don’t you dare say that. It was an accident, Cam, and you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened.”

We remain quiet and I can’t help but wonder what this has to do with us, whatever it is that we may be.

“I needed to explain,” he says, as if reading my mind. “I’ve avoided feeling anything, because I convinced myself that I didn’t deserve to be happy. When I found out you had a daughter, I freaked out because I saw it as a complication, and I really don’t need any more complications in my life.”

“Cameron - ”

“No, wait, just listen,” he interrupts. “We decided to be friends, and I thought it was the right thing to do because I didn’t want to feel anything for you. I was afraid that if I allowed that to happen then somehow I’d end up ruining you, the way I’ve ruined my family. I would never be able to live with myself if I did that.”

I swallow hard and look down. I’m almost positive he’s rejecting my again. He was so worried about me leaving after I found out about his father, but here he is, leaving me.

My voice is quiet when I respond. “I understand.”

I slide my hands away from him and into my lap. If I could, I’d get up and leave, but Cameron is my ride.

I feel him move next to me, but I don’t look up until his finger tips my chin up. “I don’t think you do,” he says in a hushed tone.

My lip trembles and I hate myself for it. Doesn’t he think I’ve had enough? Or that I can’t do this with him anymore? We’ve been playing this stupid game for weeks and I’m at my limit. I would give anything to be able to forget about him altogether and just move on, and it’s not like I haven’t tried, but there’s a magnetism between us that I can’t ignore. It’s so clichéd, and that only makes me feel worse. It’s not that I love him, or that I’m in love with him, it’s just… I don’t know. Something keeps pulling me back to him.

“Please, take me home.”

I stand up and go to leave but Cameron wraps his hand around my arm, halting me in place. “Hayley,” he starts. “I understand if this changes how you feel about me - ”

“But that’s just it,” I interrupt him. “It doesn’t.”

He stands up, holding onto my arm. “Then why do you want to leave?”

“Because,” I choke out. “I can’t stand the idea of you walking away from me again, and let’s face it, we suck at being just friends.”

His fingers brush away a stray tear and I berate myself for allowing my emotions to get the better of me. Stupid period. Stupid boy.

“Hayley, you jumped to the wrong conclusion,” he says.

“Then what did you mean exactly?”

He steps closer, until our chests are touching, and brings his hands to my face. My eyelids flutter at the feel of his fingers gently brushing over my moist skin. “If you had let me finish, I would have told you that you make me want to try.”

“Try what?” I ask, confused.

“More.”

“More?” I repeat, sounding like a broken record.

“Yes, more,” he rests his forehead against mine. “I can’t promise that I’m any good at it, but for you, Hayley, I’m willing to give it all I’ve got.”

“But what about my daughter? We’re a packaged deal.”

Cameron’s breath sweeps across my lips. “Having her doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

With a shaky voice I ask, “Are you sure about this?”

He gives me a lopsided grin, his eyes connecting with mine, and gives me the answer that has me holding my breath.