Reclaim - Aly Martinez Page 0,43
why I needed to tell somebody. He’d rant and rave about how he was going to kill whoever had done it to me.
Yet the universe loved to prove me wrong.
Maybe one day, I’d learn to stop underestimating Camden Cole.
He stood in front of me, bent at the knees to bring us eye to eye. With soft and gentle hands, he wrapped them around my forearms. “Are you okay?”
Short of playing Slapjack and me giving him the occasional titty twister, Camden and I didn’t touch often. We were kids; that kind of intimacy was still a foreign concept. But with one simple gesture, a connection from such a thoughtful and caring human being, who when faced with some of the most embarrassing and disgusting things life had to offer, all he wanted to know was if I was okay. And for a girl like me, it didn’t just open the flood gates. It tore them off the hinges.
“No,” I cried, crashing into his chest.
He released my arms but only so he could wrap me in a hug. It hurt like hell, but I shuffled close, our bodies becoming flush head to toe. A chill rocked down my spine—not because of the temperature in the room, but because Camden was so warm and safe that any part of me that wasn’t connected to him felt as though it were at risk of freezing.
“Oh, God, Cam, it was so bad,” I confessed through sobs. “I didn’t want him to touch me like that… He, he, he… He just pushed up my skirt… And he taped it. And, now, I don’t know what to do. He says he’s going to tell everyone. Oh, God. I didn’t even want to be there. I just wanted to go back to the creek and be with you.”
“I know. It’s okay. I’m here now.”
Pinned against his chest, I could hear his heart pounding at a marathon pace, but he kept his cool, murmuring gentle words I couldn’t make out. They soothed my soul if for no other reason than they were coming from his mouth.
Standing there in the middle of the room in damp clothes, he held me until every last tear had drained from my body. When I had nothing left to give, I sagged in his arms, broken and spent.
And still, he didn’t leave.
“Have you told anyone else about this?” he asked.
“No.”
He sighed. “Is there anything I could do to convince you to turn this kid in? We could call the cops or my mom. She could be down here in a matter of hours.”
For a brief second, the drawer in my head slipped open, snapshots of bone-chilling memories assaulting me from all angles.
Josh’s smile.
My screams.
The weight of him as I pleaded for mercy.
I slammed the drawer shut so fast it made me jerk. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
He rumbled a muted groan but hugged me tighter. “Can you do me a favor, then?”
I nodded against his chest.
“I’m not much of a nurse, but I’m clumsy enough to have gotten my fair share of splinters. How about you grab me some tweezers and let me get those things out of your back before they get infected?”
Great. I was sure that was exactly how he wanted to spend his day.
“You don’t have to—”
“Nora. Please. Just let me take care of you. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I’ll respect that, but there is no possible way my legs are going to be able to carry me away from you today. So, please. Let me do this.”
In that moment, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t have given Camden.
When I finally stepped out of his arms, the loss was huge, but he smiled, making the warmth linger.
I started to walk away, but he suddenly stopped me.
“Hey, Nora.”
“Yeah?” I whispered.
“It’s gonna be okay. It probably doesn’t feel like it right now, and I’m not even going to pretend to know how you feel. But I promise I’ll make it okay.”
He couldn’t possibly promise that, but I was so desperate for any sort of relief that I allowed myself to believe him anyway.
After slipping on a dry pair of Ramsey’s basketball shorts, Camden sat on my bed and picked every single splinter from my back with the patience of a saint. When day shifted to night, I expected him to race home for dinner the way he always had when we were at the creek. Instead, he reclined on the bed beside me, kicked up his