Reclaim - Aly Martinez Page 0,39

her neck. “That sure as hell is different. If he did that to you, then—”

“Then what? What are you going to do about it, Cam?”

I clamped my mouth shut. Now, that I didn’t have the answer to. But I couldn’t turn a blind eye and ignore it like every other person in her life. “I don’t know. But if you would just talk to me, I could at least try. I’ll listen. You might not realize it, but there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. And if that means sitting here on your porch and having a man-to-man with your dad myself, then so be it.” Right smack in the middle of her front porch, I sat down. I turned and leaned against the brick, kicking my leg out in front of me, all the while hoping my parents wouldn’t be casket shopping by the end of the night.

“Okay, he’s due back any minute. Suit yourself.”

I swallowed hard. “Thanks. I will.”

“Fair warning, he and his girlfriend broke up, so he’s probably drunk and looking for a fight.”

Shit. “Fine by me.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time he spent the night in jail for dislocating a man’s arm during a bar fight?”

No. She had not. Fuck. “I’ll take my chances.”

She let out a groan. “Cam, stop being ridiculous and go home.”

“I’m not leaving. He can’t treat you like this and expect to get away with it. Your dad and I are going to have a conversation about those bruises. Honestly, we should have had it last year. So it’s long overdue.”

“Oh, good Lord,” she huffed. “Fine, have it your way. Thanks for the Coke.”

I reached into my back pocket and retrieved a slightly smooshed and melted Snickers. “I got you a candy bar too.”

She plucked it from my fingers. “Thanks. See you at the funeral home.”

“Bring a book. I'm not gonna be there for about eighty years.”

She slammed the door behind her.

The odds were not in my favor if her dad did come home, but if I left, I would be just like everyone else in her life.

Last summer, Nora might have wanted a proper goodbye and promises that I’d always come back—and all the closure and security that came with them. I’d failed her in spectacular fashion all because I couldn’t keep my temper in check.

But that day, sitting on her porch, I was the only person even quasi-brave enough to stand up to her dad. She needed that more than anything else I could ever give her.

“Why are you still sitting there?” I whispered at the window. From my vantage point, hidden behind the piece of plywood Ramsey had used to secure the window, I couldn’t see all of Camden, just his sneakers crossed at the ankle.

It had been an hour since he’d sat down declaring his intentions to have a “man-to-man” with Dad. Which, let’s be honest, was laughable. My father didn’t understand the concept of having a real conversation unless it involved shouting at the bartender for another drink.

Despite what I’d told Camden—luckily for all of us—my dad wouldn’t be home anytime soon. Based on the shouting the night before, he had, in fact, broken up with his girlfriend, but it just meant he was on the prowl again. Last time this happened, he didn’t come home for six days.

I’d considered telling Camden this information at the thirty-minute mark, but deep down, I was waiting on pins and needles to see how long he’d last before giving up and going home.

God knew I could use the support. The last few days had been a nightmare of emotions I couldn’t wake up from.

I tried to pretend.

I tried to forget.

I dissected what Josh had done to me, stripping it down to the most basic feelings and shoving them into all their disgusting drawers.

But nothing worked.

Physically, I ached head to toe. New bruises appeared every day, and the splinters I couldn’t reach in my back had become red and swollen. All that I could take.

I was no stranger to pain. My body would eventually heal. In a few days, when the bruises faded, I could ask Thea for help, making up some excuse for how the splinters had gotten there. Then, not too long after that, a day would come when there wouldn’t be a single trace of what Josh had done to me at all.

Nobody would ever know but me.

There was no magical remedy for the festering wound he’d left inside my soul though. The pieces he’d