Page 105 of Be Mine Forever

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Page 105 of Be Mine Forever

“You say that like it’s self-evident, yet you held a loaded gun to your girlfriend’s head because you thought she was Mac, so obviously, somewhere in your subconscious, you think he can still hurt you.”

“But he—”

“He cannot, Cam.” Dr. Stein’s eyes never left Cam’s face. “You can let him go.”

“Let him go? I’m not holding on to him. He’s the one who won’t leave me alone.”

“I think your subconscious manifests him out of your lingering fear that you are still not safe. That you still need protection. And as an extension of that fear, you think Jo needs protection, too. You never confronted Mac in your dream until he threatened Jo. Did you notice that?”

Shit. He hadn’t. Dr. Stein should charge double.

“No.” He dropped the concession into the quiet Dr. Stein allowed him.

“Cam, I ask you again. What do you want?”

Cam let the question echo in his head for a moment, sniffing and wiping his nose to regain some semblance of composure.

“I want…I want to sleep through the night.”

“I can give you a prescription to help you with that. Go deeper.”

“I want Jo. I want to spend my life with her.” He had cracked a door open and he couldn’t stop everything that stormed out past his lips like an escaped prisoner. “And I want to have kids with her. To sleep with her in my arms all night without being afraid I’ll hurt her. Or that he’ll hurt her.”

“Jo is what you want, but you ran from her for a long time. And you ran again when you felt threatened. Why?”

“I wasn’t good enough for her. I’m still not.”

“Cam, that’s a lie. You have allowed lies to shape how you see yourself.”

“No, I’m a murderer. I’m heartless and cold. She deserves better than that.”

“I doubt she thinks she’s too good for you.” Dr. Stein allowed her eyes to be kind. “I think it’s all a convolution that will take a lot more time than we have today to sort out. How vulnerable you felt because of your mother’s indifference. The shame over what Mac did. How traumatized you were by taking a life at that age, even of someone you believed to be evil. I think that’s why you let him hang around. Free yourself from these misconceptions, and I think soon, you may free yourself from those dreams.”

“And then I can be with Jo?”

“You can be with Jo now.” Dr. Stein gave him the kindest smile he’d ever seen on her face. “Most people would give anything to have someone who stands by them no matter what.”

“I know. I just…I want to sort this all out and get right for her.”

“And she wants to walkwithyou through the process. What’s wrong with that?”

“I just want her safe.”

“The only time you’ve put her in danger was with that gun.” Dr. Stein took her glasses off, holding them between two fingers, pinning Cam to his seat with her steady eyes. “So get rid of it.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cam slipped through the kitchen door, pocketing his key and looking around the kitchen in case Q had left any food out. No such luck. He hadn’t eaten a thing, so he grabbed an apple to kill the growl. The back stairs loomed in front of him, daring him to go upstairs and find Jo. There was still a lot to sort out, but they could sort it out together. He’d realized that in his session with Dr. Stein. He’d spent so much time protecting Jo from him he hadn’t let herbewith him. Not really. But he would tonight. If she was speaking to him yet.

Etty. Of all things to push Jo over the edge, it was some chick he had never even considered screwing. He could only hope Peter hadn’t moved in on Jo, exploited the gate Cam left open. Stupid Crete. Stupid villa. StupidCam.

Dr. Stein would say that was still self-hatred. He’d never realized how hard he was on himself. He’d never made the connection between the gun under his bed and the irrational fear in his heart that he still needed protection. He’d never acknowledged just how much Mama’s indifference had hurt him. He still had a lot to learn about himself, and for the first time, maybe ever in his life, he wanted to discover it, even the dark corridors where his demons lay in the shadows.

He walked into Jo’s suite, prepared to have a new one ripped, but found it empty. He walked deeper into the suite, into her bedroom. The black leather dress that nearly had him bursting through his pants lay across the bed, and her stilettos sat on the floor, one up and one down. So she was here somewhere. He checked the bathroom and saw evidence of her rush to get ready for the funeral. Pots of makeup strewn across the sink, body butter abandoned by the bathtub, a dish of hairpins spilled on the marble floor.

He checked her sitting room, picking up the tiny sweater she’d been knitting for the twins…for weeks. Jo didn’t make a great woman of leisure, and hobbies were not her specialty. She knit. She ran. She watchedVikings.

Of course. She probably had a stack of missed episodes languishing on her DVR. Cam rushed downstairs and into the home theater, but it was dark and desolate. Nothing highlighted Ms. Kris’s absence more than this house, so often still and quiet now. When she was alive, this place sparkled, always crammed to capacity with people rallying around her causes.




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