Path of Destruction (2 page)

“Oh, baby girl,” her mother said, touching her face in a way that almost made her believe that she was in fact dead. Physical contact was not something the Nickelsons did, and whatever was happening right now was almost too much to take. The concerned look on her mother’s face was mixed with joy as she smiled down at her. “You’re going to be okay.”

“She’s awake!” her father screamed out.

As her eyes adjusted, she swore she saw a tear fall down his cheek. Her head throbbed as she tried to make sense of it all. She tried to speak, but the tightness in her throat wouldn’t let her. Almost like something was blocking it. As she started to move her hand up to her mouth, her mother stopped her.

“Wait, baby,” she said. “The nurse will have to take the tube out.”

Tube? What the hell is she talking about?

Panic set in as Cami realized where she was—a hospital. She was in a hospital with a tube down her throat. Her eyes widened as she looked at her parents and she shook her head not wanting to believe it. How had she—

The tornado.

The events started to replay in her mind, but she couldn’t understand. She’d pulled the door open. She stepped down in the root cellar. She remembered the way the cold concrete felt against her bare feet. She had been safe. With Kyle.

Her eyes darted around the room, hoping that she’d see him there.

Where is he?

“It’s okay, honey,” her mother said, wiping the tears that had begun to fall down her face. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

She wasn’t sure what to believe. It was all so surreal.

By the time the nurse came in to remove her tube, she was trying to accept the fact that whatever had happened to her must have been serious. She flailed in wild panic like a cornered animal—frantic and disoriented as the feeling of having her esophagus removed outweighed the voices telling her everything was fine and that she was okay.

Her head was pounding in rhythm with her elevated heartbeat. Each thud thoroughly emphasizing that she hadn’t been as safe as she thought.

“Take a drink,” the nurse told her with a friendly smile once she’d yanked out the tube. Cami reached up slowly, trying not to pull at the cord that was firmly implanted with a needle in the top of her hand. “Better?”

If, by better, the nurse meant that the burning sensation in her throat was alleviated by the water, then yes. But not better as in terrified about what had happened to her.

“What—” Cami cleared her scratchy throat. “What happened? Where’s Kyle?”

“You were in an accident,” her father stated as if she hadn’t already assumed that. She stared at him with wide eyes encouraging him to continue. “The storm—”

“I remember that part,” she interrupted. “I went in the root cellar though and then Kyle came.”

“You were alone, baby.”

“No,” she insisted. “He was there.” She could feel her heart racing as her parents looked at her with disbelief. She knew what happened. He’d come there to save her.

“We found you alone. No one else was in the cellar,” her Dad insisted, exchanging a wary glance with her mother.

“Our best guess is that the wind caught the door and it hit you in the head,” her mother explained. “Luckily the car was okay and we were able to track your location on the GPS when we could get a hold of you.”

Should have stayed in the damn car.

The tears that had welled in her eyes started to spill down her cheeks, sending her mother into a tailspin of emotions right along with her.

“We’re just so glad you are okay,” her mom said, taking her hand. “That’s what’s important right now. That you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Cami whispered, more as a question than a confirmation.

She wasn’t okay though. She felt sick to her stomach that it took her almost dying to make her parents realize that she was alive. Her halfhearted “I’m okay” was all she could muster. With her parents fawning over her and telling her that she’d been alone during the storm, she couldn’t rationalize a damn thing.

Whatever else they were about to say was interrupted by a knock on her hospital room door. A familiar face stood in the doorframe. The bright-yellow daisies in his hands and the comforting smile of his lips were the first bright spots she’d seen since she’d woken up from what was sure to continue to be a nightmare.

E
lla Jane felt herself waking up, felt the greedy hands of consciousness clawing at her, dragging her to a place she didn’t want to be.

Alive.

She fought to hold on, to stay under, to remain in the depths of sleep, the in between, where he was still alive. Where she was still whole.

His voice lingered in her mind, the one she knew as well as her own. The one she knew she wouldn’t hear again unless she was fortunate enough to dream of him.

Don’t go. Please, please don’t go. Stay. Please stay with me,
she pleaded silently.

But just as it had every day for the week since his funeral, daylight broke across her bedroom. Glaring sunlight exposing the harsh truths. The scent of sweat and unwashed hair surrounded her. Her pillow was still damp from crying herself to sleep only a few hours ago.

She’d thought her dad leaving had been the hardest thing she’d ever live through. She would’ve let out a harsh laugh, but her mouth was too dry. She couldn’t care less what her dad did now. All those nights of praying for him to come back just pissed her off. Now she could hear his low solemn voice downstairs, even over the steady hammering of roofers repairing the house, and she wanted to scream. She didn’t want him here. What a stupid wasteful thing she’d done, wishing for someone who didn’t want her.

Just like she’d done with Cooper.

She’d had someone who loved her, who truly loved her, and who she could trust and actually count on, and had she gotten on her knees and thanked the universe for him every day? No.

She’d taken him for granted. And now he was gone. And she was…empty.

Her heart pumped blood and her lungs inhaled and expelled air, but other than that, she might as well have ceased to exist.

The thickening ache in her throat remained, reminding her that she had to swallow over it, and that, eventually, people were going to get sick of her silence and demand that she speak.

But she couldn’t. There were no words. Once she opened her mouth and uttered a single syllable, it would be real. She would exist, living, breathing, speaking, in a world that he was no longer a part of.

No.

She wouldn’t.

Despite the pitying looks, the whispers, and the gossip, she would keep her silence. The last words she spoken, she’d spoken to him.

And they’d led him right to his death.

“I
t’s really good to see you,” Cami said after her parents had excused themselves from the room.

Hayden took a seat next to her bedside after he put the bouquet of daisies he’d picked up for her in the hospital gift shop.

“You too. How are you feeling?”

“A little confused,” she confessed. “And I’ve got a throbbing headache.” She gave him a taut smile as she drew her hand up to her bandaged head. “Are you okay?” she asked, pulling her hand from his and pointing at the cast and sling he was wearing.

“Just a slightly fractured arm. Cast comes off in a few weeks.” He shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle. Doctors say I’ll still be able to play lacrosse long as I go to my physical therapy and everything.”

“I’m so sorry about your grandpa,” Cami offered. “My parents sent flowers. But I wish I could have been at the funeral for you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he insisted. “You were a little busy being comatose and all.”

She smiled and for the first time since the storm, he felt like he was saying the right things. Lying to his grandma and his parents taking everything he said with a grain of salt had him second-guessing his usually self-assured ways.

“Guess we were the lucky ones, huh?”

“I guess. If, by lucky, you mean alive,” he said quietly. “Over a dozen people were killed that night. The reports are still coming in.”

The look of shock and sadness on her face told him that no one had told her all the facts about that night.

“God. That’s awful. Anyone else we knew?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head and watching her exhale in relief. Her eyes were heavy and he could tell that she was getting tired. “You look like you need to rest.” He stood up and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m going to go, but I’ll stop by later and check up on you.”

“Okay.” She leaned into his kiss and gave his hand a squeeze. Maybe she needed a little physical contact too. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“Of course.” He offered her a wink and headed for the door.

For just a split second, he wished that he could be hooked up to a constant drip of medication and laid out in a hospital bed. All Cami had to do was reach over, press a button to get a little relief, and drift back to unconsciousness. Back to where she didn’t know that people had died or lives had been ruined. He cursed himself for thinking like that. He had to be strong.

He could hear his grandfather’s voice in his head telling him to “shape up or ship out.”

And in his head would be the only place he’d hear Pop’s voice again, so he couldn’t even make himself tune it out. He heard every single word.

“K
evin, get your daddy. Go get him now. I need him.”

Hayden Prescott did his best not to clench his fists, especially since his left arm was still in a cast and it hurt like hell to move his fingers even by accident.

“It’s me, Grandma. Hayden. Kevin’s my dad.”

Sometimes he corrected her, and sometimes he played along. If she was agitated, it was easier to be where she was than in the present. But today, he was too tired to fake it. He was tired of lying to her, tired of pretending. Tired of fighting with his mom about sending his grandma to a home.

“She’d love it. They have a garden, and all kinds of activities,” his mom would argue.

They could shove their activities right up their asses. A few summers ago he and a few friends had broken into the quarry and dared some freshmen girls to skinny dip. ‘Cause they were cool like that. They’d all gotten busted, but because of his parents’ money, he’d gotten off with community service. Which he’d served at Golden Acres Retirement Community. The activities he’d seen included drooling in a wheelchair in a corner, yelling out in pain while being ignored completely, and having nonsensical debates with electrical outlets.

His grandma would not be going to a place like that if he could help it.

“We can take care of her. I can help. I helped Pops all summer. I can do this,” he pleaded whenever his mom almost had his dad convinced.

So far, his “it’s what Pops would’ve wanted” argument was his ace in the hole. But he wasn’t sure how much longer it would hold up. It’d been a week since they’d buried his grandpa. Sure, there’d been a funeral and a wake in which half the town had fallen on each other’s necks and talked about how much they’d miss the stubborn old man, how much he did for the community, what a wonderful man he was, but his parents seemed to be ready to get on with life as usual.

They were in charge of the land Pops had owned in Hope’s Grove now, and they were constantly meeting with lawyers and discussing uses for it. Most of all, Hayden suspected they planned to sell every single bit of it.

His summer in Hope’s Grove had changed him, and one of the things he’d been able to see clearly for the first time in his life was that his parents were greedy assholes.

Pops had suffered a heart attack while trying to protect his wife in the middle of the worst tornado Oklahoma had seen in years. The constant throb in his arm as his bone fused back together was Hayden’s physical reminder of his recklessness and stupidity. He’d seen the weather report, and just like every other idiot at the field party, he’d ignored it.

Now, his grandfather was dead, his grandmother was more confused than ever, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about except blame himself. He should have been with them instead of screwing up his relationship with Ella Jane. She’d seen him with Cami and then he’d totaled the truck before he could meet her at the ridge and explain. After the storm, everything had been utter chaos. He’d called her a half a dozen times, planning to ask her to come to his grandpa’s funeral if she could, but she never picked up. He’d seen her mom there, but the woman had been mostly surrounded by ladies her age. Not that he could’ve told her mom what he wanted to say anyway.