Page 19 of My Sweetest Agony
My hand shakes as I turn the knob and push the door open. I hold my breath and step inside, my bare feet sinking into the carpet. Cam moves behind me, his heavy footsteps fading once he’s left the wood floor in the hall.
I scan the room, afraid to breathe because Drew’s scent lives in here.
Everything is permeated with it. Each piece of furniture. The sweatshirt slung over the back of his desk chair. Even the soft carpet under my feet will hold on to it the way I desperately cling to each memory.
Tears sting my eyes, threatening to fall, and my lungs burn, begging for oxygen even as I fight the need for it. But it finally wins out, forcing me to suck in a long breath.
And just as I had anticipated, Drew’s scent hits me so strongly that I stagger a step. But Cam moves closer, the shift of the air forcing in the smell of leather and citrus and the summer wind instead, helping bring me back from the verge of collapse.
“Th-this is Drew’s office.” Was. I swallow through the tightness in my throat. “The boxes are all in the closet.” Motioning toward the closed door in the corner, I rapidly blink away the few tears that had coalesced. “I think there are like thirty of them, so I hope you can find what you’re looking for.”
When I turn to face him, he stands behind me, feet braced apart slightly, arms hanging at his sides, his eyes locked on me in a way that makes goosebumps pebble across my skin.
He sees me.
Sees that I’m about to fall apart.
His worried gaze sweeps over my face, his jaw tightening the longer he examines me. But this isn’t some purely distant, objective assessment from a stranger checking to see if I’m okay. Like earlier when he arrived, this feels more like being stripped bare, like he can see straight through this wall of strength I try to put up so I won’t break down every second of every fucking day.
It’s too real.
Too intense.
Too much.
I wrap my arms around myself and rub at them, averting my gaze from his penetrating one, but all that does is make my eyes land on the wall behind Drew’s desk. Where he has so many framed photos of us, along with random awards he received in college and medical school, and with his medical license—front and center.
He worked so hard for that.
Sacrificed so much so he could give back.
So he could save people.
But that didn’t help save him.
Tears well, and I reach up and swipe them away before I turn back to Cam. I motion toward the couch and coffee table. “You can stay as long as you’d like. I’ll be…around, if you need anything.”
Hiding.
His dark, stubbled jaw works, like he’s chewing on something he wants to say but can’t decide if he wants to swallow it or spit it out. Finally, his Adam’s apple bobs sluggishly, and he nods. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He smoothly walks over to the closet and tugs open the door, exposing boxes stacked three across and five high that go all the way back as deep as the small space allows. “You weren’t kidding about the boxes.”
A grin pulls at my lips, despite the way my heart aches. “You know how sentimental your brother was. He never threw anything away.”
Cam’s eyes drift over to me. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
His voice wavers slightly, enough that the hint of anger and animosity I’ve felt toward him and whatever reasons kept him away before slowly starts to melt away.
He grabs one of the top boxes, then turns and sets it on the coffee table before he strips off his jacket and tosses it on the corner of the couch. Lowering himself onto one of the cushions, he runs a hand through his hair. For a second, he just sits there, staring at the box, until he finally seems to realize I’m still standing here, watching him—like a total creeper.
One of his brows rises. “Did you want to join me?”
I immediately raise my hands, staggering back a step. “Oh, no.” Shaking my head, I retreat toward the door. “I…uh…don’t think I can do that.”
Not right now.
Maybe not ever.
