Carolina Moon

Chapter 11

Cam

----

It was a suspiciously long beat before Lucy opened the door. She had a blanket wrapped around her, and she'd worked up a sniffle, but Cam noticed the jewelry she still wore around her neck from work. The name tag still on her shirt. "What do you want?" she said. "I'm sick."

Cam shoved his way inside. She wasn't sick—he'd be able to feel it if she was. He was the one who was sick. Sick of waiting for her to open the goddamn door. "I've been calling you for hours, Lucy. I was worried. Stop this shit and talk to me."

Lucy's face scrunched in confusion. She turned to the counter where the contents of her bag seemed to have been dumped out in a pile. Her phone sat there, screen black. She picked it up, but it was unresponsive to her touch. "I guess the battery died."

Cam knew when his sister was lying. She seemed particularly honest about the phone, but why had she taken so long to answer? Cam took a look around, noting the boiling pot on the stove. The pasta box and the sauce left out on the counter.

"Since when do you cook? Let alone at two in the morning?"

Lucy pursed her lips and stared at the pot. Then she crossed her arms and asked, "What do you do when you get hungry at two AM, Cameron?"

This time, he knew she was lying.

"Is he here?" Cam asked, feeling a prick of irritation. "Did you already cave? Get back with that asshole? That's the only explanation I can think of as to why you—"

"You're not my dad, Cam."

It was true—he wasn't her father. He was far from it. But something about the way she said it put a pinch between Cam's ribs.

He wasn't her father, but he'd taken responsibility for her ever since they were kids. Why was he her caregiver only when it was convenient for her and never when she wanted to make idiot decisions without him around?

It was like he'd spent his entire life helping someone just for them to turn around and calmly say they never wanted it.

She must've recognized the look on her face, because Lucy began to chew on her inner-cheek, which usually meant she was feeling guilty. Her posture relaxed. "I just worked late, that's it," she said. "I haven't had a chance to eat because I came home and passed out. And spaghetti sounded good, alright?

Cam spotted the empty pasta box on the counter. "It's rigatoni."

"Rigatoni sounded good," Lucy recanted.

Something fell in her room.

Cam was certain he heard it. Not quite a crash, not quite a thud, but a soft wap. Lucy either hadn't heard it or was trying very hard to pretend she hadn't.

Shadows moved under her door.

"I'm gonna kill him," Cam hissed beneath his breath. He stalked toward the hall, ignoring the way Lucy pulled at his shirt like a dog on a leash.

"Cam—stop. Cam, you're doing that weird over-protective thing again. I'm not a child anymore, can you just—"

Cam shoved the door open, fully expecting to find David on the other side. Instead, nothing. He stood there uneasily in her doorway. Nothing. There was nothing in the room, except dirty clothing on the floor and an alarming amount of empty energy drinks on the nightstand.

"I told you," Lucy said. "There's nobody."

The scent of burning tickled his nostrils, and Lucy must've smelled it too, because she turned and hurried into the kitchen, yelling after him, "Get out of my room and stop being a freak!"