hiding

If there had been one good thing about the boat, it was that it stopped him from being able to screw up during those long years he’d been trapped there. Catia had been hundreds of miles away, safe from the shit that he was damned to keep bringing into her life. She’d mourned him and was moving on with the life she’d built for herself. Then he’d come back into it and had fucked up everything.

Most clients realised he was human (and perhaps still would’ve come to him for therapy if they’d been witness to Lottie’s outburst in the waiting room. Some placed him up on a pedestal before he even spoke to them for the first time. Therapists were meant to be saints, the sort of good examples that would lead them out of their fucked up lives into some sort of Eden. All of their problems solved with a few sage words from someone absolutely faultless. It was a delusion and nothing more. He was the furthest fucking thing from a saint.

Contrition had spilled out of his mouth in a rush at the hotel, like the words would rapidly get washed away in a tidal wave of blame from Lucky. Cam knew he couldn’t throw all of the blame on Lucky, no matter how much he wanted to. He wasn’t the sort of son of a bitch who’d say he’d fallen into a situation. Catia was fully aware of her sister’s abilities and his. She’d figure out pretty damn fast that out of the two of them, he’d been the one most likely to be able to pull out and he hadn’t. He’d snapped, throwing himself into the situation, not stumbling back until after and by then it was too late. What scraps of his relationship he’d had left after his death were gone, along with Catia.

He’d wanted to tear Grey’s throat out as he’d stood there in the lobby of the hotel, barred from the elevator by her slick guard dog. She’s out of town. Such an offhand way of saying Catia had fled from the two of them. If he’d pushed Maddox probably would’ve told him that he’d sent her to check on the other hotels for her own good, compounding the blame that was already surrounding him like a cloud of smoke, ready to choke him.

Cam scooched his chair closer to the desk, pulling up his calendar on the screen. He hadn’t needed to mark the days since Catia had gone, like a flashing red light in the rear view mirror of his mind, he knew the exact day he’d possibly fucked his relationship up for good – the third worst day of his life, coming close behind dying and waking up on the ship to learn that he couldn’t run straight back to pull Catia into his arms. Every day that she’d remained silent another line scored into the prison wall his guilt surrounded him with. If he hadn’t thought it would drive her further away he’d have gone right after her, falling to his knees, begging, admitting every single move he’d made to get to the point where all he’d been able to think about was shutting Lucky up.

An hour until his next client, supposedly a lunch break, but his appetite had gone the way of his relationship. He should’ve gone out, grabbed something to eat instead of lurking here, letting that black blanket of his mood settle over him. If he had, he wouldn’t have been here to watch his partner in crime walk through the door of his office without as much as a knock. For fuck sake.

Letting out a groan, Cam propped his elbows on the edge of his desk and ground his fingers into his eyes, anticipating the fresh wave of accusations. Oh look, he might as well start calling himself fucking psychic. He kept his fingers there, as though the cover his hand would offer another layer of protection against Lucky’s porcupine like spikes (the ones that would eviscerate him if she got the chance).

”What makes you think I’d know?” he asked wearily. Rising to Lucky’s level of pissed the last time had been irresistible thanks to the liquor he’d downed, this time he had more self-control, he didn’t have to give in. He wouldn’t give in. The laughter rolled out of him, dry as the damn pyramids. Cam dropped his hand away from his face, staring up at her, a bitter smile twisting his lips. ”You’ll be pleased to know she didn’t. We haven’t made up, we haven’t moved on. Catia left me as much as she did you.” The only person any of them could’ve wrung the truth out of was that rich shithead and he’d stand there silent as the Sphinx as they tried. ”Why don’t you go and crawl up his ass about it? I’m sure he’d take that tone real well.” The mental image of Grey Maddox literally tossing Lucky out onto the street had his smile brightening for a moment. Maddox probably wouldn’t risk straining a muscle, but he’d have people to do it for him.

Tagged: LUCKY CHRISTMAS * Word Count: 860

”It’s my fault, and I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to pay for what I didn’t manage to do.” As though he’d had any choice about the dragon, or being locked up on the boat the same way he’d been. His mom couldn’t have known what would happen either. In the only way she’d known, Margie Easton had run to try and find some safety for her and her unborn son. Sam had been stuck on the boat and by the time he’d walked free two years later, the love of his life was already married to another guy, one who was raising his kid as his own.

Forgiveness for his father had come easily. Looking back at everything that had happened before he’d even been born, he couldn’t put the blame for any of it on his dad. Sam hadn’t asked for the dragon to target him, he hadn’t asked to be locked up on the boat as though he was a criminal instead of some innocent victim. When it had come to explaining it all to Catia that first time he’d seen her again, Cam had tried to forgive himself for it all. For that stuff, he could. There was no way he could’ve known what would happen in the alleyway, or that he’d come back to life. He couldn’t have known what lurked in his family’s past, or how many years he’d spend floating in a prison. All he could do was let the truth spill out and hope that Catia saw some way to give him. This, though, Cam knew, this was something he needed to beg for forgiveness for, and with Catia gone, he couldn’t do it.

Instead, he was paying a different sort of price. A sharp tongued co-conspirator standing on the other side of his desk, throwing accusations at him as though he was the one steering this whole fucking car crash. This was the price he had to pay, even if made him want to tear his ears from his head – or worse, find a way to shut her up again. His bitter smile broke faster than her sour smirk, his eyes going flat as they bored into her. ”Every part of this does,” he muttered low. His conscience had been stinging as though the fire inside of him had finally reached it at the moment he’d … A sharp swallow did nothing to quench the feeling in his chest. This was supposed to have been their second chance, not his second chance to throw it away, although he had in the end.

Her question had his eyes glinting, their blue depths cold as the fucking Arctic as she leaned in. Cam clamped his lips together, trying not to look away from her eyes because anywhere else was more dangerous territory, every inch of her body littered with mental images of his hands, his mouth there. ”I meant again,” he grunted through gritted teeth. ”He’s obviously got the answers and I don’t.” And she didn’t seem shy about crawling up someone’s ass about this, it didn’t have to be his. ”You can see into his head, can’t you? Get your hands on him, dig into his head and you’ll know where to find her.” His voice softened faintly at the end. He could burn Grey Maddox to ashes, but it wouldn’t give him any idea where Catia was, or how to fix what he’d screwed up so badly with her.

As though she’d softened the same way – as though Lucky ever could – she asked again about Catia. Cam scoffed, then yanked his arm back, pushing to his feet as she reached for him. If it was all about what the truth was, she would’ve let him back into his head, but the last time she’d had her hands on him had been when he’d … snapped … and he didn’t want to feel his touch on his skin again. It crawled now, pushing him to storm around the desk. Getting within touching distance of her was a risk, but he stood in front of her, glaring down at her. ”Are you deaf?” he asked, throwing her words back at her as he got into her space, trying to get her to back away, to get the Hell out of his office.

”I told you she didn’t. I tried after we spoke. I left messages. She didn’t answer any of them. If I would’ve tried getting back into the hotel that son of a bitch would’ve had me thrown out. It’s not like I’ve got any explanations for what’s happened over the last few years if the cops come looking at me for stalking my ex-fiancée. What about your sister? Lottie’s here, did Cat speak to her?” Lottie would’ve been easier to get answers from, she didn’t have Lucky’s mean streak, and everything that ran through her head seemed to come straight out of her mouth. If she’d been here, he wouldn’t have hesitated before he wrapped his hand around Lucky’s upper arm to tug her towards the door.

Tagged: LUCKY CHRISTMAS * Word Count: 846