Page 24 of Cam
“Red, go get anything else you need,” Cam told me. “Your dad and I are going to have a little chat.”
“I’m all set.” I raised the bag as proof, thankful for his presence. I wasn’t sure what they were going to chat about, but I really didn’t care.
“You killed my wife!” Dad shouted.
I froze because that was totally unexpected.
Cam’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The car accident,” Dad said, then pointed at him accusingly. “It’s your fault.”
Cam looked to me. “Your mother was killed in a car accident?” He remembered what I’d told him.
I nodded. “On the highway one night. Black ice. A tanker slid and it was a huge snarl. She died instantly.”
Cam’s eyes widened, then he ran a hand over the back of his neck.
“You were there,” Dad said, continuing to point. “She died because of you.”
I frowned. “Dad, what are you talking about? Cam was just a kid!” I flung up my hands.
“I was there,” Cam admitted.
I blinked. He was–
“What?” I screeched. I never knew this.
“See?” Dad said, waving his arms around, a potato or piece of egg or something flew off the top of the Hot Pocket.
“I remember the accident,” Cam said, looking my way. His voice was always softer when he spoke to me. “Like your dad said, it was icy.”
“You… you were really there?” I asked, even though he’d already said it.
He nodded. “Pops and I were coming back from an away football game in Barnes. He’d come to watch so I rode with him instead of the bus with the rest of the team. We were out later because Pops and I went out to dinner on the way home. I was sixteen. A tanker hit black ice in front of us, then the cars behind it, like ours, hit it, too. We slid and Dad overcorrected into a ditch. I broke my collarbone and was out for the rest of the season. Dad’s airbag went off, too, and was fine.”
“You walked away and had to miss a high school football season. Boohoo.” Dad paused and wiped his mouth with the hand holding the Hot Pocket. “My wife slid into the back of the tanker and died.”
Dad’s arms dropped to dangle at his sides, his dinner forgotten in his hand. His shoulders were slumped, defeated. Grieving.
“It was an awful thing to happen,” Cam admitted. “I heard someone had died, but I didn’t know who. Like you said, I was a kid with a broken collarbone disappointed in missing a football season.”
“Dad, Cam didn’t kill Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. “He didn’t drive that tanker but was in the accident as well.” I’d lost Mom, too. Remembered when the sheriff came to the door to tell us. I’d been waiting for her to tuck me in and I’d been in my pink pajamas. I’ve hated pink ever since. “He could have died, too.” I couldn’t imagine a life without Cam in it and I was so thankful he’d lived.
Dad shook his head. Looked at Cam with such hatred. “No. He should have died instead. Get out of my house!”
“Dad!” I shouted, stunned.
He spun and turned the venom that had been festering in him my way. “Go to your room and stay the hell away from the Wilders. Or don’t come back.”
I glanced between my dad and Cam.
This was my decision point. Right here. Right now. Family or Cam? He offered me love. A safe home. A safe harbor. A job. Alife.The answer was easy. I wanted a familywithCam.
I walked around Dad and Cam held his hand out for me. I took it and he pulled me into his side. “I’m not coming back,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.
The rest of my stuff wasn’t important. None of it mattered. It was time to move on. I’d wanted out of this house for so long and now was my chance. Dad didn’t really want me. He was just wrongly angry at the Wilders. But his anger was more important to him than me.
I wanted Dad well. Happy. Kind.
