Page 20 of Haunted By the Storm
"You wanna talk about it?" I ask as we return to the living room.
She stills, her back to me. "About what?"
"Why storms scare you so much."
She turns, her expression guarded. "I think you can guess."
I lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. "I want to hear it from you."
"Why?" she challenges, a spark of fire in her eyes. "So you can… what? Fix me? Save me from my trauma? I've been dealing with this for eight years, Storm. I don't need a white knight."
"Never claimed to be one," I say calmly. "And I don't think you need fixing. But knowing what triggers you might help me keep you safe."
She stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, the fight going out of her. "There was a storm the night Eric assaulted me," she says, her voice flat, clinical, like she's talking about someone else. "Thunder covered my screams. Lightning showedme his face. The rain pounded against the house and my tears were silent. Now, every storm brings me back to that night."
My jaw clenches, rage building in my chest at the thought of her, sixteen and terrified, with no one to protect her. "I'm sorry," I say, the words inadequate but sincere.
She shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant even as her hands tremble slightly. "It is what it is. The cops didn't believe me. They said it was just a case of regret after the fact. My parents did, but they didn't know how to help me. By the time I found out I was pregnant, Eric had moved away. I thought that was the end of it."
"Until now," I finish for her.
"Until now," she agrees, sinking onto the couch. "Why do you think he's back? After all this time?"
I join her, keeping a respectful distance. "Could be a lot of reasons. Maybe he saw you somewhere and remembered. Maybe he's just bored and looking to cause trouble. Maybe he needs something from you."
"Like what?"
"Money? A place to stay? Who knows? Men like that, they're always looking for an angle."
She pulls her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller. It bothers me to see her trying to take up less space, as if she wants to disappear.
"How did you handle it?" I ask. "Finding out you were pregnant at sixteen?"
A sad smile crosses her face. "Not well. At first, I was scared, angry, confused. I thought about not keeping her." She glances toward Emily's bedroom. "But then I had the ultrasound, heard her heartbeat, and something changed. I knew I couldn't punish her for how she came into the world."
Admiration fills me. Most girls in her position wouldn't have been that strong, that compassionate. "That took guts."
"It took support," she corrects. "My family stood by me. Blaze was only fourteen, but he promised to beat up anyone who said a word against me or the baby. My parents helped with childcare so I could finish high school. I've been lucky that way."
"Still," I insist, "not everyone would have made the choice you did."
She studies me, her hazel eyes searching my face. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
It's my turn to look away. "My mom got pregnant young," I say, the words feeling rusty in my mouth. I never talk about my mom. She died a few years ago. "Different circumstances but similar outcome."
"What happened?"
"She had me and my brothers," I say flatly. "She loved us fiercely despite only being young when she had us both. She died a few years ago."
Camryn makes a small sound of distress. "I'm so sorry."
I shake off the sympathy. "Long time ago."
"Still hurts though, doesn't it?" she asks, and the understanding in her voice threatens to crack something open inside me that I've kept sealed tight for years.
"Yeah," I admit roughly. "Still hurts."
We sit in silence for a moment, the rain providing a gentle soundtrack. The storm has moved on, leaving just a soft patter against the windows.
