Page 22 of In You

I Did What I Came To Do

Caleb

Alexander and I walk out onto the porch. Now that I'm in the fresh air, I tilt my head down and take a deep, steadying breath. It's been a very long day watching Tamryn's being questioned, and witnessing the exhaustion clouding her features as the hours went on.

"I'm sorry about that," he says with an apologetic look. "Normally I'd break this up over a couple days. But seeing as we don't have much time, and you won't bring her to me…" he trails off.

I nod, clearing my throat of the uncomfortable lump in it and then reach for my cigarettes.

"Fuck, I'm gunna get lung cancer," I mutter, lighting the tip. Not that I'm really worried about it, but it's a nagging thought at times when I know I've been smoking too much.

It's the stress.

I groan on my first inhale, tilting my head back and cracking my neck.

Just thinking about the unfairness of life.

Pinning him with a look, I hold the case out to him wordlessly.

Surprisingly he takes one, turning his back to the yard and then lighting it.

His jaw works as he inhales, and we smoke in silence for a few minutes, just contemplating the entire fucking day.

"I don't mean to pry, and I'd like you to know that I'm only asking in a strictly professional sense, but…" he trails off, blowing a plume of smoke to the side. "Are you sleeping with her?"

I blink, not expecting that question. "Not right now, no."

Alexander nods, shifting so he can flick his ash over the railing. He pins me with that cold-as-ice blue eyed stare and then squints a little. "Do you plan on it?"

I frown. "Well, yeah," I say gruffly, bringing a hand to rake through my hair. "I mean, I'd hoped to be able to." I give him a stare of my own. "Why're you asking?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw as the wheels spin, and I can almost hear the thoughts as they whizz past before he plucks one out he thinks won't be offensive. "Camilla's very… fragile."

I snort humorlessly, giving him a rueful shake of my head. "No shit, Sherlock. I didn't need your fancy fucking degree to tell me what common sense did."

"You know what I mean, Caleb," he says, his voice turning hard.

My throat works on a swallow and I inhale deeply, flicking the butt of my cigarette towards the can I stash to the side for it and then place my palms flat on the railing just contemplating.

"What would you do if you were me?"

"It doesn't matter." He tilts his head, his eyes tight on me. "I did what I came to do, Caleb."

"Tell me anyway."

He turns his head to look at me sharply, flicking the ash off the side of the porch. "She needs a hospital, Caleb. Point blank."

"No. Tell me something else that will make more sense than her savior dropping her off and leaving. You can’t ask me to abandon her like that."

His brow raises. "Savior?"

I nod. "That's what Camilla calls me."

"Hm." His eyes narrow a little more and then he exhales deeply.

"Well, being with a woman who's been abused is certainly not easy.

Truth be told, friend," turning his gaze to the horizon he squints, "you never know just how deep the mind fractures under duress.

She may never come completely back to herself.

I don't know if I could do it. Just being plain honest here. "

A muscle jumps in my cheek and I brace my boot on the lower rung of the porch. "So you're saying it's not possible."

"Nope, not saying it's not possible. But this isn't just abuse we're talking about here, Caleb.

Tamryn has dissociative identity disorder.

Navigating a relationship with someone in the depths of that sort of mental crisis after the type of torture she went through will not be easy.

This will be a very long road. My suggestion-"

I snort, cutting him off. Tapping my hand against my bicep I will the fucking horror of my own past back in the background where it belongs.

"Since when's my life ever been fucking easy? I couldn’t fucking care less about how hard it is," I say quietly, watching Ringo rolling in the grass.

I look over to him, arching a brow, refusing to let myself entertain thoughts of giving her up.

To a psych ward? Fuck that. "I don't assume to know much about you, or your life, but count yourself fucking blessed that you don't have to worry about someone giving up on you.

" Stepping forward, I clap him on the shoulder once and then pull a twenty thousand dollar check from my pocket and hand it to him. "Thanks, man. I appreciate you."

He holds up a hand. "Oh, it's not necessary. Colin took care of it."

I curl my lip, shoving it into his breast pocket and not even bothering to ask him about pursuing intimacy with her.

That's a non-negotiable, as is us moving forward in a relationship.

"Aw, yeah? Well, use it to help the next person in need, doc.

Have a safe trip home. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got a woman to see to. "

I leave him smoking on the porch, and shut the door to my house, locking it.

Walking into the living room I see her blinking sleepily, but she hasn't had her pain medicine, or dinner. Remembering the way she held her hand out to me, I walk slowly to where she's sitting, then sink to my knees before her. "Can I lay my head in your lap?"

We stare at each other for a second, then she nods. Slow as molasses, I go to my knees and rest my forehead on her thigh.

She gives me her intimacy, and it slices my heart open.

In her lap I smell her scent, and it takes everything in me to not drag my pajama bottoms off her and start something I know we have no business getting started right now.

I cut off a groan when I feel her fingers sink into my hair.

But she doesn't rub, she just keeps them pressed to my head just like when she was touching my fingers earlier, and every muscle locks down as I force myself to stay perfectly still.

"Are you ready for dinner?" I mumble against her thigh.

She giggles quietly, and I freeze.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you." Glancing up, her fingers fall away, but her eyes are amused as she looks at me. "Goodness, you look about as tired as I feel," she whispers, dragging her fingers across one eye, making the skin slightly red.

"Don't worry about me, darling." I get up, holding my hand out to her. "Up you get. Do you like meatloaf?"

"Ooh, so that is what I was smelling," she says, ignoring my hand and shimming from under the blanket. "I do. A lot."

I've never seen anyone eat meatloaf as fast as she did. She even had seconds, and she kept it all down.

The next day we get her medicine, and have her clothes delivered, and I begin to try and implement a daily routine. Paying attention to triggers. And boy, there's a lot of them…

She switches between Tamryn and Camilla so much over the next few days that it takes me a while to get over the whiplash.

I find myself calling her "sweetheart" more and more, because it's easier than offending her when I call her by the wrong name when she's in a switch that I don't know about. It dawned on me that the sight of water in a glass is the strongest trigger. And for some strange reason it's just water.

I've poured her tea, soda, and juice; but the moment a glass of water goes in front of her, I know an immediate switch is coming. I don't have it in me to ask why. Who knows if she would actually know, and the answer, or the inevitable breakdown following it, might break my undead heart even more.

What’s even more saddening is it’s not even the switch, it’s how she drinks it down afterwards. Clutching it with both hands, streams of water escaping her lips and dripping down her chin as she gulps like she’s never had water before in her entire life.

Six days after her appointment with Alexander, I wake up with a raging headache after another nightmare that left her screaming for her mom again.

I was up for hours after that nursing my own demons while I tried to sit with her through it.

She didn't let me hold her this time. Shivering in the bed, staring wide eyed at the wall, refusing to let herself go back to sleep.

I don't know what the fuck she saw in that dream, but she was unwilling to talk about it and I wasn't willing to press.

I just sat there in that fucking chair and prayed she'd fall into the mercy of unconsciousness.

I've never been a religious man, as God never showed up for me, but I find myself turning to something higher than myself to help me through this.

I pop three pills for my headache and then take a deep breath, steeling myself to face a day of whiplash before checking the time, seeing it's eight o'clock in the morning.

A hell of a lot later than what I'm used to sleeping, but I got some sleep to catch up on anyways, so I don't beat myself up about it too much.

I swing my legs out of bed, noticing Ringo's absence and then I sniff, smelling bacon.

So, I'm going to be greeted by Tamryn this morning.

First thing I do is do my business in the bathroom then take the trapdoor through my bedroom floor and turn the fucking waterline off to the house. I'm not dealing with it this morning.

Walking into the kitchen, I head straight to the coffee pot, trying to be inconspicuous as I eye the stove.

She's got a pan of fried eggs, hash browns, bacon is spitting on the stove, and the little oven light shows me biscuits baking. My skin pricks uncomfortably because I don't like her doing these things one handed.

"Good morning. You sleep well?" I ask curiously.

Lifting my cup, I take my first sip, looking curiously at the sink. She's got some smaller items she used already washed and straining in the rack, but there's a few bigger items left over that still needs to be washed and I'll take care of that so she doesn't have to.

Tamryn plants her hands on her hips with a little huff and then taps her toe, biting her lip.

"Yeah, I think I could have used some more sleep though.

" Turning her head to me she flick her eyes across my face in a little assessment.

"What about you?" Almost in the same breath she rolls her eyes and then scoffs to herself, making me arch my brow.

"Like I even should care," she mutters under her breath, obviously in a mood today.

Probably due to the fact she actually got no sleep. But she doesn't seem to remember that.

I get we both are under the understanding I'm holding her here against her will but damn, I could use Camilla's understanding nature and her sweet disposition. Tamryn's a bit of a meanie I see.

"I slept great," I lie. "Thanks."

"I made biscuits," she says, putting the pan of bacon on another eye before turning to the sink and moving the faucet over, frowning when she goes to turn it on, but nothing comes out.

"Hey, that's weird," she says, turning it off then back on.

I smile to myself behind a sip of coffee, acting like I don't see.

"This just worked not even twenty minutes ago.

" She blinks, turning it off then back on again. Then off and back on again.

I choke back a chuckle, stepping forward to touch her elbow gently. She sucks in a sharp breath and then snatches her elbow away, looking down at it like I've burned her. Taking a deep breath for patience, I clear my throat, turning to the cabinet to grab some plates.

"Did you feed Ringo and Tink yet?" I ask, beginning to make our plates, pleased at how comfortable this feels.

"I did, and I took my medicine."

She takes the plate I hand her and then sits at the little table where we commence to eat in comfortable silence, drinking a glass of orange juice.

I can't help but stare at her in her maroon cotton lounge wear.

A pants and tank set. She's got a matching, thin cardigan over it that goes almost to the floor.

It's like a robe, but for daywear. I miss her in my clothes, and I have half a mind to go into her room and start stealing item after item until she has no choice but to go back to wearing my things.

"I'd like to go shopping today," she says.

"What for?" I ask, sitting back in my chair.

She blinks, getting a sad look on her face. "Well…" she trails off, looking towards the back door.

I sip my coffee patiently, sneaking Ringo a bite of bacon. "I thought we got you everything you needed the other day, sweetheart?" Her eyes come back to mine, and I freeze with my cup halfway up to my lips at the tears clinging to her lashes. "Tamryn?" I say, frowning. "What's the matter?"

She gulps and then looks down at her plate.

A single tear falls down her cheek. "I looked at the calendar today and it's my mom's birthday.

I just want to go put some flowers on her grave," she gives me a watery smile.

"Flowers are sort of our tradition." Rubbing the back of her hand across her eyes, she makes a small, hurt sound.

"I'm sorry. You probably think it's stupid, but I just miss her so much. She was my everything."

My world tilts on its axis with every syllable that comes out of her mouth.

My fingers clench around the handle of my cup, and my leg begins to jiggle as a memory slams into my head suddenly of my own mom, many years ago.

I suck in a sharp breath, and give my head an even sharper shake to rid myself of it.

I don't fucking need this shit.

"Sure." I clear my throat and then stand up abruptly, throwing my napkin down onto my plate. "Will you excuse me for a second?" I ask in a hard voice. "I'm going to check the water. Then we can go after we clean up."

She nods, getting a little worry line between her brow before taking a sip of her juice, but I'm down the basement steps and putting my hands to my knees and clenching my teeth as hard as I can to stop the anger from spilling out.

I gasp, feeling hot and nauseated. My heart pounds, and I sink to my ass on the floor and clench my head, feeling myself go into a spiral I can't help.