Path of Destruction (Broken Heartland, #2)(45)

Maybe Hayden had the right idea.

“I’m not even sure if I’m going to go,” she admitted much to her mother’s dismay.

“Excuse me?” Theresa was flabbergasted. “You most certainly are.”

“But—”

“No. I gave in and let you drop out of the pageant circuit this year. To give you some time to come to terms with what you went through. But I’m drawing the line, Cameron. Your father and I have tried to be supportive, we really have, but it’s time for you to stop acting like a victim and start being a survivor.”

Her mother’s words struck a nerve. She was a victim. Of the tornado and of heartbreak. It wasn’t like she could explain that to her mother though. She could already hear her saying something like, “He wasn’t the guy for you anyway” or “You’re going to end up with Hayden anyway. You need to let your summer fling go,” which would only push her even closer to the edge of insanity. She was walking a tight rope as is without her mother’s two overbearing cents.

“Whatever,” she offered up. “I’ll go to the stupid dance.” Nothing like a night of wishing she had someone to dance with to drive home the fact that she wasn’t a survivor at all.



As the social committee unloaded the trailers that had all of the prom decorations inside—in all their vomit-colored glory—Cami couldn’t stop herself from staring at Brantley. The way his thigh muscles strained against his jeans as he squatted down to pick up a box before hoisting it up into his very defined arms sent a flutter through her stomach. She drew her lip between her teeth, enjoying the fact that she was still able to at least feel something. She’d take the hormone-fueled lust over emptiness any day.

“Keep staring at me like that and we ain’t ever going to get this hotel ballroom decorated,” Brantley said as he made his way by her, stopping briefly to flash her a wicked grin. “I’m about two seconds away from going to get us a room.”

“Stop,” she whispered. She smacked his arm, before turning to see if anyone was in earshot. The last thing she needed was anyone catching on to her little game with Brantley.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. No one’s around.” His grin faded as he continued walking past her with the box in tow.

She regretted telling him to stop. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel bad. He was one of the only people in that entire school who was nice to her all the time. Not to mention, she’d seen that same look on Kyle’s face the night of their trip to the yogurt shop.

“I didn’t mean—” she said as she caught up next to him. “Would you wait?”

“No. It’s fine. I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” She waited for him to put the box on one of the tables and grabbed his arm, turning him to look at her. “I’m not ashamed of you or what’s going on between us if that’s what you think.”

“No? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it seems like you don’t really want to be seen talking to me. Outside of the utility closet that is.”

His snide remark had her seeing red. Of course he would think that she was vapid and shallow, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to announce to the Hope’s Grove population that she was his make-out buddy.

“How dare you,” she snapped. “You don’t know what I want or think. You never ask.” The week’s worth of tears she’d been storing up since her last good cry were looming. “I don’t see you running off to tell your little blond buddy that we’re hooking up either,” she added, trying to strike a nerve. If he wanted to throw around pissy comments, she would accommodate. It had been a while since she’d played the bitch card. Surely, she still knew how.

“Because you’ve told Prescott, right?” he asked, lacing his words with sarcasm. The look on his face that he’d one-upped her caused a tear to break loose and roll down her cheek.

Nope. No bitch card left. She watched his eyes fall from victorious to concerned in a matter of seconds.

“I... It’s not...” She tried to form a sentence, but the threat of crying stifled her attempt.

“Easy, girl. Let’s not cause a scene.” He tugged her out of the ballroom and over to a quiet hallway before pulling her into his arms. “I’m sorry I just acted like that. It’s just been a shitty week.”

Cami rested her head against his chest, letting his slow and steady breathing calm her.

“The only reason I’m not announcing to the world that we like to hook up in closets is because it’s none of their damn business,” she admitted. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m ashamed of me. Why in the world would you want anyone to know about what you’re doing with the pathetic has-been.”

“Would you stop?” He tipped her chin up with one hand as he brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You are far from pathetic, Cameron Nickelson.”

“The last thing you want is to be dragged into my f*cked-up world.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “And there’s really nothing to announce, is there?” she asked. “It’s not like we’re a couple or anything, right?”

“Right,” he agreed a little faster than Cami had anticipated. “What exactly are we?”