"Is this one of the hard ones to talk about?" He nodded. "Okay. It's okay." I shifted and laid a soft kiss on his chin. He gave me a small smile. "See? I'm reasonable. I just need to know...you're going to be open with me in the future. If not now, then some other time. It makes me feel...secured. It feels like a promise." He nodded. "I felt uneasy in all the days when you were angry with me, knowing that I was the reason why you were crying. Forgive me?" "Yes," I breathed. "Yes." I was about to launch myself at him, but then he said something that froze my blood. "My dad...hurt himself. Pills and alcohol." It took a lot to school my features. I didn't want him to see the shock on my face. "Did he do it on purpose?" "I don't know." "How do you feel about it?" "I don't know." I bit my lip. I wanted to reach out to hold him, but he looked like he wouldn't welcome it right now. So I stayed where I was. "He phoned me again and asked to have dinner with him." "What did you say?" "Maybe. Maybe I would." I waited if he was going to tell me more, but he stayed quiet. "Thank you for telling me." "I don't know why you want these ugly parts of my life, but if that's what you need. Okay." I smiled at him. And it felt real and happy. "I missed you smiling like that. All for me," he said. "There's more. But I don't want to talk about those things right now." "Okay." "Later," he said. "I promise." "I understand." "Kara." I looked up. "I'd like to hold you again. Will you let me?" I nodded and went to him. I straddled his lap, embraced him. And felt the tension in the air dissolve, felt his body relax the closer he pulled me against him. He stroked my back, my arms, my legs. The texture of his palms was rough but soothing. Above all else, this proved to me that it didn't matter where we were. Living room, kitchen, bedroom, the moon. To Cameron, holding me against him, as close to him as he could, made him feel calmer. And, I discovered as I rested my chin on his shoulder, so did I. "You smell like my shampoo. Did you take a shower here?" "Yeah," he answered. "I hope you don't mind. I needed to wash off the dirt." There was a hint of disgust in his voice. Why did I feel as though he was talking about something else? "Of course, I don't mind. You were here," I said. "You painted the bedrooms." "I wanted to do something for you." "You're so sweet. Why are you so sweet?" "I'm not sweet," he growled. "And a softie." "You keep calling me that, I'm just going to have to prove you wrong." "Yeah?" I bit my lip. "How?" His hand slid on my neck, stroking so softly. The heat from his fingers made me shiver, made me close my eyes to savor it more. God, I missed him. I missed Cameron. "You know," he said, whispering in my ear, "the last time you asked me that?" "No. When?" "You were on all fours." My eyes and my jaw fell open. I slapped him playfully. He let out a small laugh. "I'd like to paint your master bedroom." I had to blink to get back to the topic. "Not right now?" "Do you want me to do it now?" "Of course not. I want you just right"—I nuzzled his neck—"here." "Don't let anyone else paint it." I smirked. "Like who?" He pulled me away to look at my face. "Kara." There was a warning in his tone. I rolled my eyes. "Get over it. Damon's Dylan, remember?" He didn't respond to that, then, "You know I have a piercing too." I giggled. I couldn't help it. "Is that right? Where?" "Why don't you find it for yourself?" If I had tea in front of me, I'd be sipping it by now. "Okay. This is going to take awhile." He leaned back against the couch, folding his hands at the back of his head. "Then you should get started."