Page 46 of Midnight Mooring

Such overwhelming grief from one human being who had lost the one person he clearly loved most.

It cut through my bullshit. The bullshit I thought I’d worked on with Dr. Gardener. My defensiveness. My need to retreat and guard myself whenever I felt like someone might hurt me. Reject me.

I’d done that tonight when Cameron gave me her truth. I’d gotten angry because it was easier than hearing—feeling—her say she’d loved me once but no more.

Yet that man’s wails of agony filled my mind as I walked home, exhausted.

Because I knew if anything ever happened to Cameron, I’d experience that kind of grief. Her loss would be fucking unbearable.

Henry had no choice but to lose his love. Amanda was taken against his will.

However, I had a choice.

I could let Cameron walk away believing the worst in me.

Or I could finally put aside my own bullshit and tell her my truth … and maybe … just maybe she’d understand and give me another chance.

21. Cameron

Istartled awake, seeing nothing but dark, yet my heart pounded like it knew something I didn’t.

That’s when I realized I’d heard a noise. A crash.

But was it just a dream or …?

I bolted up, trying to hear over the frustrating rush of blood in my ears.

Fear, unfortunately, made my pulse race harder.

Then I heard it.

The creak of my staircase.

My home was old and therefore the staircase groaned with every single step.

There was a long pause before the next creak. Another long pause.

Someone was in my house. Someone who didn’t want to be heard.

As terror paralyzed my limbs, my brain went into overdrive, thinking of all the reasons why someone might be in my house.

The crash had to have been them breaking in.

Oh my god, oh my god.

Cammie, move! I screamed at myself.

For a second, though, I couldn’t. I couldn’t move.

Another creak sounded.

Cameron, move!

Pushing through my petrification was one of the hardest things I’d ever forced my body to do, but once I shoved a leg out of the bed, the rest of me followed. Then I remembered that my bedroom floor was just as squeaky as the stairs.

Okay, stop panicking and think. Think!

My best chance here was to escape. I might be tall, but I didn’t work out and the only defensive training I’d ever had was from Forde when I was sixteen. I could barely remember it now. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, the streetlights outside peeked through the edges of my curtains, offering some light. I searched the room for a weapon and then shook my head frantically as another creak sounded out in the stairwell.