Page 164 of Fault Lines
She opened the door, and I followed her back down the hall, each step echoing in the empty corridor. At the desk, the clerk took my debit card, ran it through a battered reader, and printed out a receipt that looked like it had been cut from a roll of toilet paper. “Holding is downstairs, last door on the left,” the clerk said, without bothering to look up.
The stairwell was painted an even uglier shade of gray than the interview room. At the bottom, another officer buzzed me through a heavy metal door and pointed down a short hall. I found Cam sitting on a bench, hands folded in his lap, one shoe tapping out a nervous rhythm on the tile.
He looked up when he saw me. His face was blank for a second, then flooded with something softer—a relief so overwhelming I almost turned away.
“You paid?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re free to go.”
He stood, stretched, and walked toward me. He looked tired, the stubble on his chin gone feral, but there were no fresh bruises, no bandages. He stopped an arm’s length away, like he was waiting for permission.
I didn’t give it to him, not directly, but I turned and started for the exit. He followed, our footsteps in sync, the sound bouncing between the cement walls like a heartbeat.
Outside, the air was still cold, but the sun made it tolerable. Cam squinted, blinking at the sudden light, and then turned to face me.
“Thanks,” he said, voice rough.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I looked at the street, the cars, the strangers passing by, and tried to imagine what it would be like to have a life where you didn’t end up here every few months, mopping up the mess of your own worst decisions.
Cam said, “You okay?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you?”
He smiled, the edges cracked but real. “I think I will be.”
We walked the rest of the way home in silence, shoulders almost touching but never quite meeting.
∞∞∞
When we got home, the inside looked smaller than I remembered—like all the air had been siphoned out while we were gone, leaving just enough for the essentials. Cam droppedhis keys in the bowl by the door and hovered near the entryway, as if stepping farther in would trigger some silent alarm.
I shut the door, set my bag on the counter, and watched him with the detached interest of someone studying a stranger in a museum—familiar, but already history.
For a while, neither of us moved. Then, with a momentum I didn’t know I had, I closed the distance and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He didn’t tense up the way I expected. Instead, he let his head rest against mine, both of us breathing in sync, heartbeats out of phase.
“Thank you,” I said. “For—everything.”
He shifted, barely, and his breath was warm on my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Livi. It’s not like I had a choice.”
I pulled back, hands on his biceps, and looked him dead in the eye. “You had a hundred choices. You didn’t have to go to Nate’s. You didn’t have to put yourself at risk.”
He shrugged, but the motion was brittle. “He threatened you. That’s all I needed to know.”
I wanted to be grateful, but the anger, long dormant, surfaced anyway. “You could have ended up in jail, Cam. Or worse.”
He let out a sound—half laugh, half groan. “Yeah, but I didn’t.” He turned away, rubbing his jaw where a day’s stubble had turned to sandpaper. “Honestly, it was worth it. I’d do it again.”
I shook my head, pacing to the other side of the room. “You’re impossible.”
He followed, but kept a safe distance. “Am I? Or am I just the only one who gives a damn about you?”
That hurt. More than it should have. “Other people care, Cam. Rachel cares. Jackson cares.”
He scoffed. “Rachel does care, but she cares more about being right. Jackson cares about keeping the peace. I’m the only one that would make the world stop turning for you.”
I felt the words gather at the base of my throat—acidic, mean, and more true than false. “You’re so sure you’re the hero in this story, but you’re not. You’re just as selfish as anyone.”
He absorbed it, let it pass through him, then said, “Maybe. But at least I’m honest about it.”
