Page 10 of My Sweetest Agony
Sure strides bring Cam to the door before I can even get myself untangled from the blanket and to my feet.
I waver slightly when I finally manage it. “You’re leaving?”
His hand pauses on the knob. With his back still to me, he inhales deeply, his shoulders rising then falling as he releases it slowly. “I’m sorry I came, Ivy. I thought I was doing the right thing, but—” He shakes his head, still refusing to look at me. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing I do is ever the right thing.”
With those words, he yanks open the door and steps out into the storm still blustering outside.
Another sharp flash of lightning illuminates his tense features as he turns and takes one last look at me before pulling the door closed behind him in time with the crack of thunder that shakes the house.
My head spins.
What the hell just happened?
I rush after him on wobbly legs, turning the knob and tugging the door open as he reaches the end of the walkway, where a motorcycle sits parked at the curb.
He isn’t going to ride that in this weather…
Only someone with a death wish would.
Yet, he must have ridden it here.
Through the driving rain.
Coming here to tell me he was back was so important to him that he risked that and will again to leave.
He tugs on a helmet and throws his leg over the Harley Davidson without looking my way. Wind whips the rain almost sideways, more lightning cracking the sky as he fires it up and pulls away from the curb onto the soaked street, disappearing into the deluge and leaving me reeling.
Why did he come?
After four years of not speaking with Drew. After never meeting me or showing any inclination of ever wanting to. After staying in London and using it as an excuse to never come home. After missing birthdays. After missing his brother’s funeral. After failing to be here for his mother during such a horrible, traumatic time…he just shows up at my doorstep one month later.
Why?
The storm swallows the sound of the motorcycle’s engine quickly as he flees.
He’s gone.
I stagger back a step, then close the door against the riot outside, turning to rest my shoulders to the smooth wood. My heart thuds wildly beneath my ribs. My hands won’t stop shaking. Even my knees seem weak from the encounter with the other Usher twin.
Something made him return to Philadelphia now.
And something brought him to my doorstep tonight.
But I don’t have the faintest clue what it could be.
I slide down the door until my butt hits the wet floor, but I don’t care that my jeans are now damp.
Whatever reason Cam has for coming home, it’s his.
It doesn’t affect me.
I can’t let it.
Not when I can barely contain the chaotic, soul-crushing emotions that swamp me every waking moment and the memories and nightmares that plague me when I try to sleep.
But not telling Nancy that he’s back when she’s grieving and needs her son, that’s something else entirely.
A debate wages inside my head, between calling her immediately and telling her Cam is here or honoring his request. More of a plea, really. The way he looked when he asked me not to tell her, the pain in his gaze—it’s enough to give me pause in grabbing my phone.
