Kara Is Cameron coming to see me at all? It had almost been an hour since I talked to him on the phone and he'd said he'd meet me at Tala's house. Then where is he? As soon as I got home, it was with new eyes that I looked at the place. I could see Cameron's hands painting the walls of every room in the house. My heart hitched. It was when he did things like this that made the anger and pain disappear. When I thought that he didn't care enough, he'd surprise me and give me more of himself by doing things like this. I paced in the living room, back and forth, back and forth, wrapping my arms around myself, chewing on my nail. And then I heard the sound of his truck outside. I ran back to the window, my heart slamming against my chest as I watched the truck door open and Cameron climbed out. I could tell he was exhausted. I watched as he lowered his head, squeezed the back of his neck before lifting his gaze. It was too dark to see his face, but somehow, I knew he was looking at me. His stance straightened, more alert now. When he started up the porch steps, I hurried to the door, flung it open. I ached at the sight of him. He stood outside my front door, tall and huge and brooding. The soft light revealed his angelic face to my gaze. His eyes were piercing and so blue as they focused on me. "Kara." My lips parted, and I heard my breath as it slowly came out. I waited, but he didn't move. He didn't reach out. And then I realized he was waiting for me. "Cameron." His brows raised a fraction. Not as a tease, nor a challenge, but a gentle plea. A silent question begging to be answered by a simple word or a tender touch. I gave him neither, because I wanted to give him more. A permission. A crack on the door to my heart that he could push all the way open so he could get back in, but only if he chose to take it. "You can hold me," I said softly. "If you want." He didn't say a word because in a flash he closed the distance between us and grabbed me in his arms. I buried my face against his chest, wrapping my arms around him, feeling my heart settle at the sound of his heartbeat. His grip was so tight it was hard to breath, but so was mine. I heard myself sob once, quietly, but that was all I would allow. Pressing my lips together, I willed myself to calm down. We had so many things to talk about, to fix, and crying would only postpone everything. But he took the time. He kissed the top of my head, stroking my hair as he gave comfort. "Kara," he whispered softly. "Kara." My name on his lips, the sound of it in his voice was fixing the cracks in my heart. His hands grabbed my hips, lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, resting my cheek on his shoulder as I held on to his broad shoulders. "I'm taking you to bed," he said, walking us there. "You need sleep." As soon as he said sleep, my body became heavy with exhaustion. The day had been very stressful for both of us. "Okay." "I'm sorry I kept you waiting." I shook my head as he carefully laid me on the bed, realized he couldn't see me because it was dark. "I told you I'll wait for you." He stood beside my bed, crouching as he continued to stroke my skin with his fingers. My cheek, my neck, my arm. I could feel he didn't want to stop. I heard him take a deep breath, then he asked in a rough voice, "Do you want me here? I could sleep on the couch." "No. Stay." "I want to," he said. "We'll talk tomorrow." I heard the promise in his voice. And just those words gave my heart comfort and my body consent to sleep. Cameron would be here tomorrow. Everything was going to be okay. It was dark when I woke up. I blinked at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was only 4 a.m. My mind would usually be fuzzy from sleep, my thoughts incoherent, but not this time. Cameron. Panic threatened to choke me as I found his side of the bed empty. He was gone. Did he even sleep here? I didn't see him lie down beside me. I fell asleep just as we were talking. I jumped out of bed, growing dizzy for a second before forcing myself steady. Hurriedly marching to the kitchen, I sagged against the wall as I saw his broad shoulders. Cameron was standing in front of the sink, looking outside at the backyard. He turned when he heard me. "I thought you'd left." He shook his head. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" "Please." He pulled back when he saw the coffeemaker he gifted to me covered in a towel. "I was mad at you," I explained, worrying my lip. "I know." "What time did you wake up?" "I couldn't sleep." "At all?" "A lot of things on my mind." He somehow found where everything was, then I remembered that he was here for a couple of days painting. "Careful," he said as he handed me a cup of steaming coffee. I nodded, took a sip, another, until I finished it, but there was no relief. The coffee sat in my stomach uncomfortably. Maybe I needed another one. Even before I could get up, he was already filling my cup. I thanked him and finished that too. And still, nothing felt right. "I'll be right back," I said, and went to the washroom. I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, felt some semblance of composure. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I told myself to stop feeling nervous. I couldn't get a read on Cameron's mood. His shields were up, but that could mean anything. It was hard to tell with him. "Cam," I said as I circled back to the kitchen. He looked up. "We need to talk." He nodded. I tipped my head in the direction of the living room. I sat on one of the couches and gestured for him to do the same. I was hoping that it would be more relaxed here, but I could feel the tension in the air. Why? We should be making up, but why does it feel like...we're not going to? "How did you hurt your foot?" I startled at his question. How did he know? "You're limping," he said. Of course, he'd seen me limping. I tried to hide it, but he always seemed to know if something was wrong with me. "I stepped on broken glass." "Broken gla—" His eyes widened for a second before they darkened with understanding. "Your lamp?" I nodded. "When's the last time you changed the dressing?"