Page 81 of Hot Commodity (Banks/Kincaid Family 1)

"Where's Dad?"

"Right here, kiddo," came his father's voice.

Slowly, Cameron rolled his head to the left.

"Hey, there," Chuck said, bending down to get into Cameron's field of vision. "Decided to join the living again, huh?"

Cameron didn't bother to smile. He didn't feel so alive at the moment. Drained and empty and a little numb, his licked his lips. His head felt as if someone was taking a jack-hammer to his skull and trying to drill down to his toes. Even lying down, he felt nauseous and dizzy.

"Wha...what happened?"

"Alcohol poisoning," his father answered, placing his palm over Cameron's hair. The warmth of his fingers seeped through Cameron's locks and soothed his aching head. "You went over the limit this time, son."

To his right, his mother covered her mouth and let out a small sob.

Cam winced. "Sorry."

"Yeah, well, you should probably save your apologies for those two." His dad hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the curtain that separated him from the main part of the ICU room. "They're taking it worse than anyone. They both seem to think this is their fault."

Cameron managed to lift his face enough to see Boston and Olivia in the doorway. They'd wrapped themselves around each other in a very private embrace. Livy buried her face so far into Boston's shirt, Cam feared it would take a surgical procedure to remove her. And Boston—his best friend in the entire world—curled around Cam's wife with his arms wrapped so tight he fisted the back of her shirt in his hands.

Jealousy hit hard. Well, thanks a lot, he wanted to snarl, though his energy level was so pathetic, he could only manage a small grunt. But it sure as hell hadn't taken them long to turn to each other. He wasn't even buried yet.

Then Olivia lifted her face and looked up at Boston. She was as pale as a ghost, save for the red rings around her eyes, where tears gathered and dripped. She said something, and Boston answered with a shake of the head. Then he wiped at his own eyes with the back of his hand.

Well, damn. Bos was bawling too?

"Why're they crying?" he slurred, twisting his face toward his mom.

"Because they love you, and you scared us all half to death," she rasped, her voice growing hoarse.

Cameron closed his eyes, and listened to Boston murmur comforting words to Olivia.

Chuck gripped Cam's shoulder. "Boston's the one that found you," he explained. "He called the ambulance and held you while you threw up blood. The boy probably saved your life, keeping you from suffocating on your own vomit. Took ten years off his life. He was about to break down into a panic attack by the time we arrived."

Cameron glanced at his best friend. Boston appeared to be seeking comfort about as much as he was trying to give it.

"And that pretty little wife of yours." Chuck shook his head. "She's convinced this is all her fault, and no one's going to convince her otherwise. Keeps saying stuff like she should've done more, should've tried harder. You wouldn't have drunk tonight if she hadn't left. Poor thing is taking on the weight of the world. Kind of like you did when Sienna died."

Cameron's head swiveled around. He ignored the spiking pain from the sudden movement and gaped at his dad.

"Oh, I remember everything you said back then," his father murmured. "Most of it was, 'I should've done more. I should've tried harder. If only I'd…'" Chuck's words drifted off as he watched a tear trail down Cameron's cheek.

"So, I've turned into Sienna," Cam choked out. "Is that what you're saying? I'm the manic depressive now."

"You couldn't save her, Cameron," Allison said, squeezing his fingers. "Nothing Sienna did to herself was your fault. Only she could've saved herself."

"And none of us can save you," Chuck added. "No matter how much we want to. No matter how much it kills us to watch you go through this."

Cameron squeezed his eyes closed, but tears leaked through anyway. When he looked up, he met his mother's worried features. "I've made a mess of things, haven't I?"

Allison ran her thumb over his knuckles. "It's nothing that can't be fixed," she assured, sounding suddenly like the woman he remembered from when he was a child and had made mistakes.

He swallowed. This was all wrong. They were treating him like, well, like he'd treated Sienna in her final days.

No.

He wasn't turning into a Sienna. He couldn't. He'd never do to his family what she'd done to him. He'd never put them through hell by making them worry.

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