“Stay away from him,” she says, her voice impassive but still threatening.

I dry my hands, and face her. “Excuse me?’

Rachel scowls and I imagine her thick layer of make-up cracking from the movement of her muscles. “You heard me. I said, stay away from him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just stop with the messages, and the calls, okay? Cameron doesn’t want you, and I’d think that by calling me during this tough time would have made it clear.”

I shake my head, swallowing the words and the sickening emotions that are threatening to take over. Keep it together, Hayls.

“I have nothing to say to you, Rachel. If you know he doesn’t want me, then why are you here telling me to stay away?”

“Because if you don’t, I will make sure he sees that little video you have.”

I freeze, my eyes widening. “What?”

“You seriously have no idea who I am, do you?” she laughs and it’s a sadistic sound. “Oh wow,” she continues. “Kimber is going to love this.”

My head whips up at the mention of that name, a name that I haven’t heard in two years but still makes the blood in my veins turn cold.

“Kimber Allen?” I ask.

Rachel smirks. “She’s my cousin.”

Her threat doesn’t seem so harmless anymore and the thought of Cameron finding out about my history is terrifying and enough to make me physically sick.

“Are we clear?” Rachel snaps me out of my mental trip down memory lane and I feel my head bobbing up and down in a nod. I don’t want to give in to this bitch, but if I don’t, the repercussions of ignoring her threat can be far more damaging. Again, I wonder what Cameron sees in her. I mean, she must have class if she’s willing to threaten me at a memorial service of all places.

“Good.” Rachel sneers at me a beat longer before walking out of the bathroom. I feel my eyes start to burn, but biting the inside of my mouth manages to squelch it long enough for me to escape. In my haste to get away, to go home and see Ari, I forget about my coat and sneak out the church. I hug myself, feeling foolish for braving these ridiculous winter temperatures in nothing but a thin, long sleeve black pencil dress, but it’s no comparison to the inner turmoil I would have experienced had I stayed. I can’t stand the thought of Cameron and Rachel together, and even braving the snow that has started falling is more appealing. Of course I should have considered just how cold it is before I left my coat behind. My grandmother's house isn’t far, but even I’m not deluded enough to see the idiocy of this plan. I barely make it halfway up the road when I hear my name being called behind me. It has to be him. I almost roll my eyes at the cliché I now find myself living in.

“Hayley!” His voice comes to me, like flittering light in a dark storm, and I clutch it to me, because I know it’s fleeting. God, I miss him so much. Pinching my eyes closed for a brief moment, I turn around slowly, and no matter how hard I try to remain unaffected by his presence, seeing Cameron is still a punch to the stomach. I already feel winded as his eyes clash with mine. He walks closer, my coat resting on his arm.

“Where are you going?” Cameron asks. I take a moment to observe his features. His eyes are tired, and red, and his cheeks seem a little hollowed. His suit fits him perfectly, his dress pants showing off his thighs, and his gray shirt clings to his chest. Even in the cold his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms and his tattoo peeks out just below his elbow. Less than a week ago I was wrapped around that body, tracing the lines of his tattoos, committing every dip and curve of his muscles to memory. Not that I could ever forget. He’s spent hours loving me with that body in the most beautiful, excruciating way, and now there’s just…nothing.

My reply comes out flat and void of any sentiment. “Home.”

He looks down, fidgeting with my coat. When his head lifts again, every molecule and nerve ending in my body yearns to reach out to him, touch his stubbled cheek, and wipe away the tears that will spill. But instead I grip my waist tighter. He must interpret it as a shiver from the cold, and reaches his arm out, my coat in his hands. “Thanks,” I mumble, slipping my arms through the sleeves. We say nothing for a while longer and the tension collides with the crackling of energy that pulsates between us like a living organism. My heart thumps loudly in my ears and races in my chest.

When neither of us can take the awkward silence anymore, Cameron is the first to speak. “Thank you for coming.”

A twinge of anger prickles my blood. He’s being so casual, like what we had was nothing. Fine. Whatever.

“I didn’t come for you, Cameron.” I unintentionally spit the words out. “I came for your mother, and your sister.”

He looks at me, his expression stoic, but it’s his eyes that give him away. He’s trying as hard as I am not to feel this, not to care. He sighs, saying, “Hayls, we need - ”

“Cameron,” I warn. “Please, don’t. I have nothing left to say to you.” I’m lying. I have so much to say, but after my encounter with Rachel in the bathroom, I decide to play it safe and keep everything I need Cameron to hear to myself.

“You’d better get inside. You wouldn’t want to keep Rachel, or your family waiting,” I add quickly.

With that, I spin on my heel before he can respond and break me even further. He doesn’t call after me, but I can feel his eyes on my back as I walk up the street, away from the church. I pull out my phone and text Hannah, letting her know that I’ve left and to call me later if she needs anything. By the time I get home, my hands, face and feet are numb but it doesn’t matter much. Because the one part of my body that I need to be numb, even if just for a little while, still pumps furiously behind my rib cage. I didn’t realize that it was possible for a heart to keep beating while in pieces. Until now.

* * *

My grandmother was right, when she told me that it gets easier with time. Every day was an opportunity to move forward, and while it still hurt, I found myself smiling more and more each day. I decided not to tell Hannah about my confrontation with Rachel at the memorial service almost two weeks ago, or about my brief interaction with Cameron before I left. I was a little more than just determined to get past it and talking it about again wouldn’t be conducive to those efforts.

We spend Christmas at Gama’s, and to my surprise, my father joins us. He shows up with a car full of presents for Ari, and part of me softens because I get the feeling he’s trying to make up for lost time. It will take more than that to right his wrongs, but I’m grateful for his effort.

I invite Taylor and Macy to join us, since they would be alone otherwise, and once Hannah shows up, it finally starts to feel like a family holiday. I’ve still spoken to Candice everyday, and she still skirts around talking about Cameron, but I can hear in her voice that she’s concerned. Still, I manage to stop myself from asking about him, despite the fact that he’s never far from my thoughts. I don’t know if he’s moved on, but I hope he can find enough inner peace to forgive himself for his father's death and move forward with his life, the same way I’m trying to do with mine.

Chapter 19

~ January 2013 ~

~ Hayley ~

The funny thing about life and time is that no matter how much hurt or loss you experience, they both continue moving forward, and you can choose to fall behind or pick yourself up. I can’t deny my feelings for Cameron, or their depth, but I feel like walking away from him all those weeks ago at his father’s memorial service was my declaration of defeat. I hated giving in, letting both him and Rachel win, but when presented with the choice between humiliation and self-preservation, the need to protect myself wins out every time. I can’t risk making selfish decisions when my past could very well resurface, and unfortunately, Ari would be dragged into the messy crossfire just because she was born. I still love Cameron, but in my mind, I’ve rationalized that it wouldn’t have worked out anyway, and that Cameron would have moved on once he got bored with me.

I walk through the front door of my grandmother’s house and toss my bag onto the floor with a thud. I’m exhausted after a long day of classes, but find that throwing myself into schoolwork has given me a much-needed escape from missing Cameron, both physically and emotionally. I thought it would be better by now, but who am I kidding? Some people spend a lifetime trying to get over their first loves and right now, I feel like one of them.

My grandmother is standing in front of the stove, with her sunny yellow apron around her waist, and singing along to some old country song. Ari is propped up in her high chair, watching my grandmother while she makes food, and sings along. I laugh quietly when she starts making up her own song, instead of going along to the tune playing on the radio in the kitchen. My little rebel child. She has a mind of her own, even at this tender age, and I hope she will use it to make smarter choices some day.

“Mommy!” she squeals, wriggling in her high chair until I pick her up.

“Hi monkey pants.” I kiss her on the forehead and bend to kiss my grandmother on the cheek.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” my grandmother asks. She looks away from the pot of spaghetti in front of her and up at me. We both know what she’s really asking, and rather than lie to woman who has a built in bullshit detector, I tell the truth.