Secret Lucidity

“Something I advised against,” he says, and I take it from his hand. “It’s a letter.”

  “Obviously, but I—”

  “Like I said,” he interrupts. “You leaving is the best thing for him. He doesn’t need temptation living five minutes away.”

  I stare down at the envelope, running my hand over the fibers of the paper that his hands touched, and my heart grows heavy.

  “How is he?”

  Liam shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants and sighs. “He’s destroyed, which is probably putting it mildly. The media was relentless, but aside from that, he wanted me to tell you that he misses you and that everything else you need to know is in the letter.”

  I give him a nod, because if I try to speak around the knot in my throat, I’d only burst out into tears.

  “I’d wait to read it though. At least until you get to where you’re going.”

  I nod again, holding the closest thing I have to my forbidden love in my hands.

  Before he leaves, his lips lift in a subtle smile. “I’ve never seen a love as intense as what that man has for you.”

  “Will you tell him something for me?”

  “Of course.”

  A million words flood my head at once, but I go with what I never got a chance to say. “Can you tell him I said ‘Thank you for not being afraid to love me’?” With no control, tears are already streaming down my cheeks. “And tell him that I love him. That I really love him.”

  Liam nods and gives me a second to regain my composure before saying, “Good luck with wherever you’re headed next.”

  I just gave him the last remnant of myself to take back to David, and it’s nearly debilitating. So, when I slip in behind the steering wheel, I drop my head and expel harrowing sobs into my hands. I cry as I teeter on the knife’s edge of two extremes—loving the universe for giving me someone as special as David, and hating the universe for ripping him away from me so violently and without any warning.

  I don’t know how long I sit here and cry, but it’s long enough that the crests of my cheeks burn from the saltiness of lost love. When I can’t take it anymore, I slip his envelope into the book, turn the key, and set off to the east coast.

  I roll down the windows and breathe in a lungful of fresh air. And with the wind in my hair, I know that, no matter what they say, no matter how wrong we were for doing what we did, together all those wrongs created the most exquisite right.

  So, this is it.

  This is how our love story ends.

  Cam,

  I have so much to say but not a clue where to start, so I guess I’ll start with this: I’ve never been scared of freedom. I only became terrified of it once it meant living without you.

  God, Cam, I have no idea how the hell I’m supposed to get over you.

  I knew I had no right to you, but I was selfish and took you as if it were my eternal right. You amazed me from the very beginning, but I never imagined how hard I would wind up falling in love with you. You touched my soul. You touched it and left your prints all over it. Never have I let anyone get that close to me, but it’s not like you gave me a choice. It was never a question whether I wanted to open myself up as much as I did with you, it just happened. Somehow, you burrowed your way into my heart, and I haven’t been the same since.

  I will never forgive myself for what loving me has done to you. I’m a constant wreck, wondering how badly you must be hurting and if you’re scared. I worry about you, because if I’m not the one taking care of you, then who is?

  All I can do is hope that you’re coping and finding a way to heal from all of this. I just wish I could be there for you.

  But there’s something else I need to say. I need you to make me some promises.

  I know you’re hurting right now, and I’ll forever be sorry that our love got turned against us and now only causes pain.

  I don’t want what has happened to destroy you any more than it already has.

  I love you. There is no denying that. I love you so much that I don’t want to be the reason you hold yourself back from living. I need you to be happy and to move on from this.

  With that said, go to UNC. Don’t do it for us, do it for you. Open yourself up to making friends. Go to parties and let loose, but be safe. Take this time to make mistakes and have fun. Keep swimming, because you’re amazing at it. But most importantly, I don’t ever want you to be afraid of falling in love again, because you do it beautifully.

  One more thing, years from now, when you’re happy and settled, if I should ever cross your mind, I want you to remember all the times you made me smile. Because I will always remember you as the vibrant girl, hanging out of the sunroof of my car with that crazy beautiful smile on her face. They’ve stolen enough from us, don’t let them take away what we both know was real. Always remember what we were before they turned our love into something ugly.

  You are the best thing that ever happened to me, so don’t ever doubt that my love for you was one of the realist things I’ve ever felt in my life. I will never forget you.

  I miss you more than you will ever know.

  I love you. I always will.

  David

  May

  (4 years later)

  (David)

  I ONCE WROTE CAM A letter. It was total bullshit though. I couldn’t tell her what I really wanted because that girl has the most tender heart of anyone I’ve ever known. She’s sensitive and delicate even though she does her best to hide it.

  It took time for her to trust me enough to let me in, but when she did, she showed me just how soft she actually was, which is why I couldn’t tell her in that letter that I meant it when I said I would never abandon her, and that I would come for her the second I could. You see, if I were to have told her that, she would have dug herself a hole to live in while she waited for me. I couldn’t let her do that. She needed to live and experience life.

  It tore my fucking heart out to write that letter, to tell her to go out and fall in love again, because her heart is mine to take care of and nobody else’s. She gave it so wholly and freely to me, and the thought of someone else having what I wanted to be only mine killed me. I was that girl’s everything, and she was mine. She still is. After all this time, I still love her.

  And now here I stand outside a coffee shop at UNC.

  I hopped on a plane right after the judge signed the judgment of dismissal, ending my four years of court supervision and finally closing the case. I have no clue what I’m going to say to her, but I have to see her. If for nothing other than to make sure she’s okay. There’s no plan in place aside from showing up at her apartment, which I was able to find the address to. I would have called her, but her old cell number now belongs to someone else.

  But no plan is needed when loud laughter from a group of girls coming out of the coffee shop catches my attention.

  I have to do a double take when I see her with a huge smile on her face, a face that has matured, but one that is undeniably hers. My heart nearly gives out at the sight of her after so many years of only having the memory of her. But to see her now, so full of life, laughing and smiling, she looks so unbelievably happy.

  She’s just as beautiful as she was four years ago as she stands on the sidewalk looking more grown up than the seventeen-year-old that has remained in my head. She wears her hair shorter now, her body has more curves, and her skin glows with more color that it ever did before. I could stand here for forever and look at what I have been dying to see for way too long. Never has anyone been able to make me feel the way she does, and I’m in disbelief that after everything that has happened, here she is, right in front of me.

  When I overhear her say goodbye to her friends, and she stays behind as the others cross the street, I take a nervous step toward her at the same time she turns her head in my direction. The moment our eyes catch, she freezes, and her face startles in complete shock.

  I struggle to speak as everything I haven’t felt in four years comes rushi
ng back with a vengeance. The moment I feel my blood warm, I lift my lips in a subtle smile. She doesn’t move as she stands paralyzed in one spot. I walk toward her, and the moment I’m close enough to feel her heat, I want to grab her in my arms, but I fear I’ll scare her.

  Still so tiny as she stands in front of me, her hand shakes when she reaches out. The moment she touches my chest, my skin radiates with a surge that travels straight to my heart, making it hard to breathe.

  “Is this real?” Her words are breathless and full of disbelief, and hearing what I’ve been missing for so long, cleaves straight through the façade I’ve had to force myself to live under the moment I lost her.

  “God I’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

  Her arms fly around me in a death grip, and I band mine around her fiercely, holding the girl I’ve never stopped loving.

  She’s so warm, just like I remember. When she nestles her head against my chest, she begins to cry. I hug her tighter, completely unsure if I’m strong enough to hold us both together. My own emotions falter, weakening me, and I’m desperate to see her face. It’s all I need right now, to reassure me that this is real.

  I angle her to look at me, and her green eyes shine bright behind her tears. “Tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay.”

  She runs her small hand down my face, and I smile because she’s so perfect in every way possible. I’ve struggled without her for far too long, and now here she is, twenty-two years old against my thirty-six. Fourteen years still separate us, but now in a world that is accepting of the divide.

  “I’ve missed you so much.” My voice strains as we stare into each other’s eyes.

  I refuse to let go of her as her body trembles against mine.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to see you. I had to make sure that you were okay.”

  “But—” Her brows cinch in worry.

  “It’s over,” I assure. “I got on the plane after I left court yesterday.”

  A few more tears slip down her cheeks, and I wipe them away as she releases the most beautiful exhale of relief. “And you came straight here?”

  “How could I not?”

  She buries her face against me once more, and I slip my fingers through her hair and hold her tightly to me. I kiss the top of her head, cautious not to push my boundaries with her, and then the thought that I might not have any right to her creeps in.

  “Why don’t we sit down,” I suggest as I guide her toward a table that hugs the large window outside of the coffee shop.

  As soon as she sits, she grabs ahold of my hands, and I love that she’s still needy for my affections.

  “There isn’t a day that goes by that I haven’t thought about you and worried about you,” I tell her.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. After Liam brought me that letter . . . I thought—”

  “I had put you through enough. I couldn’t stand the thought of you hurting any longer. All I wanted was for you to be happy, and I knew you wouldn’t have been able to do that if you were still hanging on to me,” I tell her. “But there was never a second that I stopped loving you.”

  She drops her head and squeezes my hands before looking back at me with a tearfully happy smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I can’t believe it either.” I take a pause to collect myself. “You look amazing . . . You’re happy, right?”

  She nods. “It took a while, but yeah, I’m happy. Even happier now that you’re here. What about you?”

  “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve managed to find things that make me happy.” I hesitate to ask what’s burning a hole in me, but I do it anyway, because I need to know. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “No. I tried. I dated a couple guys but . . . it never worked out.”

  I swallow hard against the thought of her with someone else, but I have no right to jealousy when I’m the one who told her to move on. Still, it stings.

  “And what about . . .?” It takes her a moment before she looks at me with a silent understanding of what I’m asking.

  “I’ve been seeing a therapist.” She sinks into herself and shifts slightly, pulling away from me. “It’s been about a year since I’ve hurt myself.”

  Her hands slip out of mine, and I can see she’s getting uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I tell her as I watch her tension surface. She has always worn her emotions on her sleeve, and even though she’s older and more mature, I can still see right through her. She’s overwhelmed. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “That this is a lot. I don’t even know what to think. I’m in shock, because it’s you. And I’m starting to feel really flooded right now because even though four years have passed, it feels like time hasn’t changed how I feel about you when I thought I had gotten over you.” She grows more emotional with each word spoken, but I don’t stop her because I’ve never seen her so aware of herself before. “I look at you, and it triggers that seventeen-year-old girl in me, but I’m not that girl anymore, so to feel all this right now . . . it scares me. I just never expected this, and now, here you are. And I don’t know what this means because I can’t get ahold of my thoughts.”

  “I get it. This is a lot to have thrown at you out of nowhere. It’s okay if you feel confused and overwhelmed. If you need time—”

  “I do, but I’m scared I won’t see you again.”

  “Me too. I’m terrified to lose you again. But the last thing I want is for you to be scared.” I take her hands back in mine and look her straight in the eyes. “Listen to me. I will never walk away from you. Not unless you tell me to. So, if you need time, take it. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She nods with hesitation.

  “Can I see your phone?”

  She pulls it out of her pocket and hands it to me. I open up her notes and type in my cell number and the name of the hotel I’m staying at along with the room number.

  “I’ll be at the Siena Hotel,” I tell her when I hand her phone back. “I won’t leave until I see you, okay? So take as much time as you need.”

  I make sure my words come across sure and certain, but the moment she stands and walks away, I grow worried that she won’t come back. Those worries follow me all the way back to my hotel room where I can’t sit still. I pace the room incessantly as fears and insecurities that plagued me in the past come back to haunt.

  These four years without her have been hell, and having to sit in sex offender classes week after fucking week with a bunch of fucked-up child molesters and rapists messed me up badly. The shit I’ve heard is enough to supply me with a lifetime’s worth of nightmares. Not to mention the warped mindset I’ve had to battle with being forced to sit among them as if I were one of them.

  There was a point I really started to struggle with the idea that I did in fact take advantage of Cam. That maybe I do have a very sick spot in my head, and that I used her to satisfy it. Life got very dark during that time, and there was nothing I could do. I debated seeing a therapist, but I figured they would want to treat me as a child molester as well the moment I told them about Cam. So, I suffered through the perverse thoughts and nightmares that depicted the two of us in a way I never wanted to see.

  But Cam did go to therapy, so what if she was treated as a victim of mine? What if she thinks of me as a predator and that’s the real reason why she was so nervous at the coffee shop?

  I grow even more anxious when I see the sky darken after the sun sets. I check my phone for the seventh time to make sure the ringer is turned up and I haven’t missed a call or a text. I think about ordering dinner, not because I’m hungry, but more for the distraction of having something to do rather than letting my head mess with me.

  My heart nearly explodes when I hear a frantic pounding on my door. The moment I open it, she falls into my arms and I lift her off the ground, kicking the door shut as I crush her against me.

/>   “Tell me what this means,” she begs in urgency. “Tell me why you came.”

  “Because I love you, Cam. I’ve always loved you.”

  I kiss her in a rush of fervency, and she cries against my lips. I make no excuse to move slow as I part her mouth to taste what I’ve missed so much, because I still love her. Even with time lost and all we’ve suffered through, she’s still the one I love. And in an instant, all the anguish fades when she kisses me back.

  Her arms cling around me as I carry her over to the bed, and we are nothing more than broken hearts desperate for healing. Words fall from lips that refuse to stop kissing, confessing our fears, sorries, I missed yous, I love yous, and I never want to be without yous as we lick the other’s wounds.

  And when I have her naked on the bed, she stares up at me as if I’m her everything but she has it all wrong. Because it’s her. It’s always been her who has made us what we are when we’re together.

  Her legs fall open so willingly for me, like I’m her missing piece she needs to be whole. God knows she’s my missing piece too. I lower my body to hers and take my time as I slowly sink myself inside of her. The moment I have her warmth wrapped tightly around me, fire sparks up my spine, and I know this is where I’m meant to be. That this isn’t something sick and fucked up the way they wanted us to believe.

  The intensity between us is infinite, and as if no time has passed, our bodies move together flawlessly. I prop up on my elbows and look at her looking at me as I hold myself still inside her. Her cheeks are flushed pink as tears continue to fall down the sides of her face, and when she runs her hands up my unshaven jaw and back behind my neck, she whispers heavily, “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make me love you like it’s a necessity?”

  She moans so fucking sweetly when I push myself deep inside her, craving her unlike anything I’ve ever craved before. Needy to make up for lost time, we hold each other close with hearts that pound against the other’s chest as we make love the only way we know how: desperately.