Page 87 of Be Mine Forever

“Aim and shoot. There’s two bullets in there if you miss the first time.”

Cam looked past Deuce, saw Mac on the ground, bleeding and whimpering, and he wasn’t sure he could do it.

“Head or heart?” Deuce asked. “You’re close enough that you won’t miss.”

Fear and shame and all the hurt had been packed into this gun. Rolled into these bullets. Cam stared at Mac and it all came back. That first time, waking up with Mac like a cannon behind him. Nights on his knees. Mac’s hand knotted in his hair and his sweat dripping onto Cam’s shoulders. He could see it all in Mac’s rat eyes. And then he noticed Mac’s lips moving, barely, just barely, but saying the same thing over and over.

“Make me proud.”

This man had beaten Cam’s mama. Kept her on drugs and on her back. He’d ignored Cam’s begging, crying, praying every time. Head or heart? Those lips curled into the devil’s smile. Mac didn’t have a heart.

So Cam shot him in the head.

“You killed him.”

Jo sat with Cam on the bedroom floor, their backs to the bed, knees up.

“Yup.” Cam flopped his head back onto the mattress, eyes on the ceiling. “Like an animal in the street, and I felt nothing but relief. At eleven years old, I shot a man and felt nothing but relief. What does that say about me?”

“He was a monster.” Jo slid around on her knees to face him. “You weren’t the only one he hurt. Nothing would have stopped him from hurting other boys.”

“I always tell myself that, but something still feels wrong about it. At first I worried that someone would find out, but in my neighborhood the cops weren’t exactly falling all over themselves to figure out who murdered some pimp. Deuce is the only one who knows.”

“So that’s your connection to Deuce.”

“After that he kind of looked after me. I’d come home and there would be a bag of groceries at the door. Or money in the mail slot, or whatever. He helped me until my mom got arrested and social services stepped in.”

“And that’s when you came to me.” Jo grabbed his hands hanging limply from the wrists draped over his knees.

Cam disentangled his hand from hers, then got up and walked to the wall where he had replicated her backyard. He propped himself against the painted tree, eclipsing the heart embossed with their initials.

“I held a gun to your head.”

“Cam, it’s okay.”

“Do not say it’s fucking okay, Jo.” Cam dug his fingers into the sides of his hair. Guilt mushroomed over him like an atomic cloud. “That is the same gun I used to kill him, and there is still one bullet.”

She hadn’t even processed that. You wake up with a gun held to your head, you almost wet your pants. Cam confirming the threat had been that real only made it worse, and she hadn’t thought it could get worse.

“You wouldn’t have shot me.”

“Not awake, but the line isn’t there anymore. It feels so real. He’s fought his way from hell and back into my life, and I won’t have him anywhere near you.”

“Do you hear yourself? How ridiculous this all sounds? The man is dead, baby. He can’t hurt you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Cam banged his head against the wall. “I knew I shouldn’t have…”

His eyes picked up the trail his words left hanging. The regret there took a sledgehammer to her heart.

“You shouldn’t have what?” Jo made herself ask, even though she already knew.

“I shouldn’t have started this with you, Jo.” Cam traced his fingers over the tree behind him, shaking his head. “I was weak and gave in, and now…Damn.”

“Wow. I wait seventeen years to be with you and you have the nerve to regret me?”

“I was never going to be the right man for you, but now…”

“Now what?”

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