Page 81 of The Leaving Kind
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Cam didn’t have to think about it. “The responsibility.”
A wrinkle appeared between Nick’s eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because I’m a fuck-up, little bro. Everything I’ve ever tried has crashed and burned. This is gonna be no different.”
“What else have you tried?”
Always with the questions.
“It’s better if no one else is relying on me. That way, if I don’t show up, I’m the only one who gets hurt.”
“Why wouldn’t you show up?”
Cam jerked his head up. “Did you not see what just happened? I freaked out over a business name.”
Nick appeared to digest this. “I think you freaked out over starting something new.”
“Same deal.”
“Will you tell me about when you came home?”
What was he talking about? “Huh? When?”
“Two years ago.”
The desire to leave itched along Cam’s legs, but his body felt too heavy to lift off the couch. Despite years having passed since his last full-on panic attack, he remembered the exhaustion that followed. He flopped his head back and sighed. Tried not to ruminate on all the ways in which he had failed and why he’d finally decided to come home. “I ran out of money.”
The couch creaked quietly as Nick moved. Cam closed his eyes and breathed.
Nick moved again, then started talking. “This therapist I’m seeing? One of the things we do is go over the events I’d prefer not to think about. I can verbalize the memory, or write it down. I ... It’s hard. But it helps. Do you remember when you told me talking helps? You were right. So, talk to me.”
Nick had come so far. Cam had never doubted he’d grow up to be a good and kind man. Sensitive, but in a good way. He was glad Nick had turned out okay.
Cam took a deep breath. “I invested every cent I had into a business venture with a friend. With a woman who I thought was my friend. It was for a franchise. I’d been working dead end jobs ever since I got back. I didn’t mind so much. Go in, lift, carry, pack, whatever for twelve hours, go home. But I had some savings, money I was putting away for Emma, you know?”
Nick offered a nod.
“I saw the opportunity to make my money do more. A way to get somewhere. Be someone. Own a business.” The swirl in his gut turned sour. Cam swallowed. “She took it all and ran.”
Face showing little emotion, Nick said, “This was the woman you wanted to marry.”
Cam winced.
“I’m sorry,” Nick said and he looked as though he meant it. As though he hadn’t plucked the phrase from a list of acceptable reactions.
Concentrating on that rather than the fact he didn’t need such words from his brother, Cam shrugged. “If I was a fully functioning adult, I’d have seen it coming.”
“Probably not.”
“What makes you say that?” Also, points to Nick for not arguing the adult part. Or the functional part.
Nick studied him for another long moment, as though consulting his list of acceptable responses or maybe just searching for the appropriate words. Cam waited with the patience he’d learned growing up with his uniquely thoughtful little brother.
“You are the most caring person I know,” Nick finally began. “You always want to help people, no matter who they are or who they are to you. It makes you susceptible. But wouldn’t you rather get hurt trying to help people than never connect at all?”