Dedicated to @voxdeity ❤️
Listen to The Last Time by Taylor Swift, Gary Lightbody
Minefields by Faouzia, John Legend
Thank you for your song recs :) Let me know if you have more that fits Kara and Cameron.
Kara
Cameron left the door open.
It was dark inside his place, and for a moment I let myself believe the darkness would shield me from him. So, I closed the door. And I was alone with him.
Not alone like when we were on the trail, where anyone driving or walking by could see us. Not alone like when he was standing on my porch, where a wall separated me from him. This time, there were no barriers between us except for what I had built around my heart.
And what he had built around his.
In the dark, I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me. Somehow, I knew when he was staring at my mouth, my neck, my breasts, down to my feet then back up. I felt all warm inside, my senses heightened. I couldn't see his face, but I could make out his form—huge and tall and ruthlessly masculine.
Before there would have been no doubt in my mind that he wanted me. Not just for the night, but forever. But he'd planted the seed of doubt in my heart, and it had taken root. In the time that he hadn't pulled it out, it grew.
So why the hell do I still feel drawn to him?
"Don't come any closer," he whispered. "I'm filthy."
"I don't care. Let me—"
"No."
I shook the memory away.
I watched as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms against his chest as though he'd stay there all night and wait.
Wait for what?
There were too many things I wanted to ask, too many feelings I had repressed since he left. Why couldn't I talk about them now that he was in front of me?
But I didn't come here to talk. I came here to get my things, because... I was running out of ideas how to forget him. Maybe once I got my things back, I'd be done with him for good. I felt strongly about it. It would be a kind of closure for me.
Besides I was resentful that he had any of my things. He'd left Esther Falls like his ass was on fire that I had no warning, no time to get them. There would be no scarf in his drawer by the time I leave.
And yet... I couldn't make myself move.
Maybe he's not the one waiting. You are.
For what? Anger coursed through me—but this time it was toward myself. I gritted my teeth.
"So, you and the redhead, huh?"
He didn't answer. He didn't even move. Not a sign that he had heard me. Had he fallen asleep? Annoyed, I slapped the lights on.
Cameron wasn't angry. He was furious. The blue of his eyes glittered.
Unlike mine, his fury was quiet and cold. He'd bank it if he could. But I knew the right buttons to push so that he'd unleash it. I wasn't afraid. I'd never been. Because I could match it.
I knew I was safe with him, physically at least. I could say a lot of bad things about him, but the truth was he'd always taken care of me. Well, until that night.
He looked dangerous standing there. His jaw was clenched, the muscles on his arms were tight and tense, his stance combative. And he was watching me. His eyes always looked deeper and darker, bluer than ever when his control was slipping.
Excitement coursed through me. And against my will, I wanted to come closer.
I didn't.
"She's no one," he said.
I curled my lip. "Did you hammer a nail in her wall?"
"Are you asking if I fucked anyone else after you?"
Yes.
"I don't care if you—" please say no "—fucked the whole campus. I don't care."
He looked down, hiding his eyes from me. His hair, as dark as a crow's feather, was still unbound and slid down silkily on his face. He raised his arms, ran his fingers through his hair, pushed it back with both hands and kept them behind his head. He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and looked up at me.
"You want to get your things, now's your chance."
"Where are you going?"
Without answering, he turned and walked away in the direction of the den. I assumed he'd take a shower in the guest bathroom. He'd always leave the master bathroom free for me to use.
He'd walked away again. This was one of the things he usually did when we were both angry, and I was provoking him to lose his mind. I'd rather fight it out then move on and forget about it. He'd rather keep it in, try to control the situation by controlling himself, and forget about it.
I was tempted to go after him but stopped myself. I knew why I was here and what I needed to do, and it wasn't talking.
Gathering my courage, I faced the living room. And felt like crying. Everything was the same.
I walked around the room, touching old and familiar things. The lamp we picked up at a yard sale, the blanket I got for him because he preferred sleeping on the couch at night when I wasn't around, the coffee mug he got for me that was as big as a soup bowl.
The string of photos of us we'd hung on the wall—one of them was taken by Dylan on Christmas Eve. I was practicing cooking when Cameron showed up with presents. I remembered it like it was yesterday. I stared at the photo, chaos in my chest. I grabbed it and placed it in my pocket. I would burn it later.
In the master bathroom, my toothbrush was still with his in the holder. My facewash, face cream, hairbrush, and hair dryer on his bathroom counter. All arranged neatly. I swallowed the knot that had formed in my throat and gathered all of them in my arms.
In his walk-in closet, all my clothes were still there as well. How could he live like this after the way he broke us apart? It was like he hadn't moved on at all.
Was he just lazy that he couldn't be bothered to discard all my things? But Cameron had never been lazy.
It doesn't matter. Get your shit and leave. You're not his therapist. You don't need to understand. Think about that closure you're looking for.
Wound up, I looked up and found my favourite pair of shoes. I had stored them on the highest shelf to protect them and only wore them on special occasions. Of course, since he had them for a while, that hadn't been possible.
Feeling bitter, I raised onto my tiptoes and reached for them, but they were too high. I usually called him to get them for me. Being a giant, he didn't need a ladder.
There was no way I'd call him for help. Grunting at the effort, I pulled whatever I could reach and bit back a scream when something fell. A black box and it contents spilled on the floor.
"Damn, damn, damn."
Already feeling overwhelmed, I crouched and blindly picked up the items and put them back in the box. I remembered snooping at his stuff when I first came to his place a long time ago. I'd seen this box before and had wondered why he had all these things.
My hand stilled as I reached for a photo. There were four people in it and behind them was a magical and fancy Christmas tree. But what caught my attention was the young woman. She appeared ethereal dressed in a black velvet dress, her hair a sleek black mane. She looked strangely familiar...
I jumped when I heard a door close. The Bigfoot must be done his shower. I put the photo back in the box and stored it at the bottom shelf.
I felt vulnerable when I came back to the living room. I placed all my stuff on the coffee table. And froze. On it was the note I left for him the last time I was here. It was a receipt, but the ink on it had faded so I couldn't tell which store it was from. I turned it around. I had scrawled on the back of it. It was creased, as though he'd held it several times before. It read,
Hey Bigfoot,
We're out of bread and coffee. If you buy some, I'll reward you with something you really, really like. Something on me that would make you moan out my name. See you tonight. xoxo
Kara
P.S. It's white and lacy ;)
It was a note that was written with the thought that I'd see him again, that we'd be together for a long time, that I could depend on him and he could depend on me. That when I sleep tonight, I'd see him when I wake up in the morning. It was an intimate note that said you are mine and I am yours.
"Kara."
I looked up. He found me sitting on the floor, gripping the note in my hand. He was carrying a plate with two pieces of toast on it and a glass of orange juice. He placed it all on the table. I knew it was for me.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked gruffly.
I don't know why I felt like I was being destroyed.
I was a fucking mess, surrounded by him. Overtaken by him. All my things here held a memory of him. How could I possibly get my things back and not think of him and break my heart all over again?
Closure? What a big fat joke. Is it true time heals all wounds? Then when is the deadline?
I rose, marched over to the front door.
"Where are you going?" he asked. His tone was alarmed.
I gripped the doorknob. "I hate how easy this is for you."
"Tell me what you think is easy for me."
"Why are you acting like nothing happened?"
He was silent for a moment.
"If I'm acting like nothing happened," he began, his voice sounding forcibly casual, "you'd be on top of me now, riding me. Or your legs would be on my shoulders and my face between your legs."
I spun around, but instead of glaring at him like I planned to, damning tears started to pour on my cheeks. Instead of the acidic words I wanted to heave at him, a whimper came out. Horrified, I covered my mouth.
"Don't." I saw the look of pain in his eyes before he crossed the distance to me. His arms were there to gather me, pulling me against him tightly. "Baby, don't cry."
But I couldn't stop.
"Kara. Please. Don't. You're ripping me apart."
I gripped his shirt, my face on his chest. His heartbeat was fast and loud against my ear.
"Why did you leave me?"
His arms around me tightened. I felt his body tremble as he rested his cheek on top of my head.
"Was it because you got tired of me?"
I had to know. I'd made my decision. I'd rather be vulnerable now and know the reason and get hurt than be in the dark. My mind and my heart were exhausted being in the dark.
"Never." His answer was empathic and strong, turning away doubt.
Call me a fool, but I believed him.
"Was it because of my family? My... uncle?"
"No. That was not your fault. It was mine. Fuck me." He buried his face in my hair. "It was my fault you got hurt. It was mine. I'm so fucking sorry, Kara."
The hate and derision in his tone startled me. And I knew, because I knew him like no other and because he'd let me see his real and raw self before, that it was all directed toward himself.
"What are you talking about? Cam, what are you keeping from me?"
He didn't answer. He just held me, and I could feel his longing, his quiet desperate need to be close to me. Maybe this was wrong, maybe, but I had hated him for so long, loved him for much longer, and being in his arms felt so right. Something lost and found again. He felt like... home.
"Why do you still have all my things? You've been back for several weeks now. Why haven't you gotten rid of them?"
When he didn't answer, I pulled away so I could look at his face. He looked at me for a long moment, and I could tell he was fighting with himself. And I knew the moment he'd surrendered. His eyes softened, and a small sad smile curved his lips.
"Because," he murmured, stroking my cheek, "I wasn't planning on getting over you."
Undone, I gripped his shirt and pulled him down to me. When our lips touched, I heard him groan.
He sunk his fingers into my hair, tilting my head in an angle so he could do what he wanted with my mouth. His tongue was hungry, sucking, licking into me. His palms stroked down to cup my neck, squeezing lightly as he continued to attack my senses.
"Kara," he growled my name against my mouth. "Kara."
He pushed me against the wall, locking my wrists in his hands and pulling them up so that I was trapped. He was on me a second later, rubbing his chest against mine, his hips and what was hard and hot between his legs. I moaned at the contact, filled with exciting sensations that fired up my body.
"I missed you so damn much," he rasped. "You're so beautiful."
He placed his lips beside my ear. "I want to fuck you. I think about fucking you all the time. Do you miss my cock?"
I whimpered. "Yes."
"Do you want it?"
"Yes." I closed my eyes. "I want it. I want you. But, Cam, talk to me."
"Kara. I—"
Suddenly he stilled.
"Cam?"
I could feel his heartbeat against mine, fast and strong. His breaths were ragged. His skin was burning hot, and I wanted him to release me so I could touch him.
"You asked me if I fucked the redhead earlier."
I froze.
"Did you fuck Trip?"
I sucked in a breath at his sudden attack. "What the hell?"
"It would break me, but I want to know anyway."
I pushed against him. I heard his laugh—quick, quiet and sardonic, before pulling away from me. It felt like a slap. Eyes on me, he walked slowly backwards until he was leaning against the opposite wall.
Baffled, I watched him watch me. There was a small, crooked smile on his mouth. He was as brutally beautiful as that night he'd broken me. But his eyes, they were flat and dark. It was as though he'd checked out and a different version of him was in front of me now. The one who didn't care.
I wrapped my arms around me, rubbing away the cold from my limbs. "Why do you want me to hate you so much?"
There was heartbreak in his gaze.
"Because it makes you feel better to hate me," he said quietly. "I'll keep coming back if that's what you want so you can keep tearing me apart."
His words stunned me. I closed my eyes, trying to find my bearings. "What the hell are you trying to say? That you're doing this to make me feel better? How fucking twisted are you?"
This time the small, crooked smile on his lips widened slightly. But still, it wasn't his. Not the smile he used to give me.
"A lot than you or I could have imagined. You'd be disgusted if you knew." I saw his throat working, saw him clench his jaw. "Stay away from me, because I fucking can't. The more you come closer, the more hurt you'll get. Can't you listen to me this one time?"
But I was done listening. Not being able to get through to him hurt me so much I was physically in pain. My chest felt like it would explode.
"I hate this. I hate that even after you've hurt me, broken me, I'm still looking for reasons why you acted the way you did that night. Why you're acting like this right now. I know you'd rather be hurt than hurt me. I know that much. So why did you change that night? What happened? Nothing makes sense. Am I just blinded by how much I lo—" I cut myself off, afraid to mention the word that he'd ruined for both of us.
"Am I just blinded by how much you mean to me that I still want to know why? You were so cruel."
That got to him. Pain twisted his beautiful features.
"Make me understand so I can forgive you."
"I know," he said, barely more than a whisper. "But that's not what I want."
I could burn the whole city with my pain.
He looked down, swiped a hand on his mouth.
"I'd rather die than be around you like this, knowing that every time I see you, I fall back to how I felt for you before. And you no longer feel the same because I'm no one to you now. I never had to get over anyone before, and if it's like this, if it's this kind of hell, I regret everything."
His lips parted slightly at my words, eyes intense on my face, and for a moment I thought I saw a wounded look in them, but he'd masked it so quickly I wasn't sure if it was there at all.
"Tell me a lie," I said. "Then I'll forget about you for good. No, tell me two. One for you and the other for me."
"I'm still yours."
"And the second?"
"I wish you were still mine."
"Not good enough. Try harder."
"I'm all out. Tell me yours."
I want you to turn back time. Back to where I could love you without hurting myself.
"You don't deserve them."
"You gonna forget me now, Kara?"
I shifted, and the sleeve of my top fell down, exposing my shoulder. His eyes followed it, stared for a moment before he lifted them to my face.
"Before I drive you home," he started, but there was something wrong. His voice was light, but his eyes carried the whole weight of the world. "Why don't you show me what's underneath?"
I closed my eyes, allowed myself a second before opening them. I rushed to him, clenched my fist.
"I bet you're wearing white. Wanna—"
And swung. He didn't finish his sentence.
A/N: Please make me smile by clicking the star at the bottom of your screen. Drop me emojis that describe your emotions while reading this chapter!
Have you ever had your heart broken? What did you do to recover? I've always been protective of myself—sometimes too much. But even then, I had my heart broken. I believe that experiencing hard moments in life makes you stronger. You might not think so at the moment, but later you'll realize that you went through that experience for a purpose. Don't give up. Just keep going. You got this. Steel, baby. You're made of steel.
Hello loves, how are you? I didn't get a chance to work on this chapter until Sunday. I wasn't sure which POV I was going to write at first. I started with a Kara POV, then switched to a Cameron POV, but halfway through, Kara kept calling me. Haha Besides I love seeing Cameron through her eyes. Whether she hates or loves him, writing in her POV makes me feel connected with her. This story has been in my heart for a very long time, and I can't wait to see what comes next for these two. I hope you're enjoying the chapters!
If you've read Chasing Red, do you remember what happens next with Kara, Red and Beth? It's been a while since I wrote that chapter and yet it's still one of my favourites. I'm skipping that chapter in WIL though, since you already know what happens there. I have this scene in my head for the next chapter that I think you might like. I'm excited to write it! See you in the next one. Love, Isabelle