Bad Things

30. Save Me (Part II)

He could rise above.

He would rise above.

He had to, because they were counting on him.

Drawing in another steadying breath, Shawn lifted his head and peered out at Nana's diner, realizing instantly that he'd been going about this the hard way this whole time. It didn't need to be this tough, and he didn't need to be this alone.

A sense of determination washed over him. This life wasn't just about him anymore. It was about all three of them, and as much as he knew Camila was on his side, he needed to prove to her that he could survive for her. For all of them. He told her he'd fight and, damn it, he was going to fight, not just her father, not just the legal issues looming ahead of him, but himself too.

Without him telling it to, Shawn's hand reached out and pushed open the car door. His feet, also working of their own accord, stepped outside onto the gravel lot. His heart pounded in even thuds, and nervousness laced the blood pumping through his veins.

He should not be there, he thought to himself. And then, shut the hell up and just do it.

Somewhere inside of him, some thing inside of him, wanted to be there, needed to be there.

Shawn thought back to the last time he'd come, to the way Nana had looked at him, to the way she'd touched him, the things she'd told him. And he knew exactly why he was there.

Moving faster toward the entrance, Shawn let himself ponder the revelation. This morning, as his father had told him without remorse how he was no longer interested in Shawn's life, Shawn had thought he was alone, that he had no one. But that wasn't true.

There was someone here who wanted him in her life, someone who had told him as much and was just waiting for him to say yes.

As Shawn's hand curled around the handle to the door, he decided that he wanted more than anything to say yes. He was so tired of being alone, of feeling so utterly and completely solitary. And he knew that the only person he had to blame was himself. He hadn't wanted to let anyone in, to let anyone have the opportunity to leave him again. So when they asked, he pushed them away. Again and again, over and over. But he also knew that the only person that could stop the cycle from repeating itself for the rest of his life was him.

All it would take was this one step.

This one decision.

This one person.

This one.

Pulling against the handle, the door whooshed open, bringing with it the cacophony of happy voices and the clanking of silverware against dishes. The scent of apples and cinnamon and grease permeated every single inch, and Shawn didn't think he'd ever smelled anything better, anything—besides Camila—that made him feel so ... at home.

Stepping inside, he let the door close behind him, the little bell over top tinkling above the roar inside, and searched for the familiar gray head. Shawn stopped near the center of the entryway as he scanned the room. A sharp pain radiated up his elbow as a busboy came hurtling around a nearby table, his tub piled high with dirty dishes, and ran right into Shawn.