She might as well be, in Jordan’s opinion. Like an axe murderer, Laurel wanted to cut her daughter down every chance she got, blow by careless blow. Cam tightened her lips, no doubt to control the words coming from her mouth. When she spoke again, she managed to keep her tone even and at a reasonable volume.
“I live alone in a place where the elevator opens up into my living room. I don’t have a front door I can lock. My security is the guard downstairs. That means I take precautions. No one comes up without my being notified first. That’s just common sense and standard procedure for anyone who has a place like mine.”
“Don’t blame me for your poor choices in life. You’re thirty-six years old. I haven’t been responsible for your marital status, where you live, or how you look for a long time.”
Cam’s temper would no longer remain tethered. “Get out. Get out of my home, and don’t come back. I’m done with you.”
Laurel stomped a spiked heel. “How dare you!”
Whoa. Time to break this up. Jordan rolled forward into the fray. “Easy, Cam. You’re not thinking clearly right now—”
“Stay out of this, Jordan. This is between me and her.” Cam’s eyes, blazing with fire, cut to him before returning to the target of her ire. “Bertie always insisted I give you the benefit of the doubt. With him gone, I no longer have to heed that advice. I don’t have to respect you because you’re my mother, especially when you’ve gone out of your way to disrespect me and all I’ve loved my whole life. I’m over it: the drama, the snide comments about my size and looks, and most of all, the insults about Bertie. He was the best thing that ever happened to us after Dad died, but you never appreciated him. The whole time he was alive, I put up with your crap and let you criticize every breath I took because I had his love to fall back on when you made me feel bad about myself. But he’s gone now. And any desire to continue fostering this toxic relationship between us died with him.”
Cam’s voice was whisper-soft, laced with steel. Under normal circumstances, he’d admire the way she kept control of her emotions, particularly because he knew the history she alluded to. Bertie might have died, but the spirit and confidence he’d instilled in Cameron lived on—along with a little too much fight for today.
When Cam’s hands curled into fists, the tension in the room ratcheted up a notch. For a scary moment, he wondered if she’d physically pick up her mother to toss her out of the apartment.
Apparently, Laurel shared his fear, because her complexion paled, and she looked his way. He shrugged and gestured to his chair. What the hell did Laurel think he was going to be able to do should Cam lunge for her?
His vivid imagination pictured blood splashed on the dove gray walls, and despite his better judgment, he pushed himself in between the two combatants. For a tense minute or two, he feared Cam would climb over him to get to her target, but then she sighed, and her mother made a quick about-face.
“Don’t bother to show me out,” she announced as if she was the one holding the reins of power in the room. “I’m leaving. I’ll expect someone to contact me with the details of the memorial service when they’re confirmed.” She jabbed the button to open the elevator doors and slipped inside, her perfectly made-up face a mask of fury.
The doors slid closed, and Jordan breathed a heavy whoosh of relief.
Cam’s posture relaxed, and her hands eased at her sides. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“To be honest, I’m glad I did,” he replied with a smirk. “Bertie would be proud of you.”
“Ya think?”
He reconsidered. Bertie, the peacemaker, would’ve preached for continued patience and understanding. Jordan, on the other hand didn’t know how Cam had put up with the abuse for nearly four decades. “Maybe not. But I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Great.” The words came out in a flat monotone. She collapsed onto the sofa in a heap of mournful fury.
He took her hand and squeezed. “It’s gonna be okay, Cam. I promise you.”
The first tear escaped, a shimmer of silver that landed on the edge of her inner cheek and stayed there, as if afraid to roll any farther. Cam looked at the empty cushion beside her, then at him in his wheelchair, and back again. “Can you... I mean, is there a way... are you able to...?”
He understood what she had difficulty saying, and with a nod, he held up a hand. Once he maneuvered the chair to a better angle, he used his upper body strength to push himself up, swivel around, and land almost exactly where she’d indicated, give or take a couple of inches.
Her jaw dropped, and her eyes rounded. “Wow.”
He settled against the plush sofa back. “Just because I’m in a chair doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”
“No... I mean, sure... that is, I get it. It’s just... it’s amazing to see you in action like that. I mean, you were always a great athlete, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but I guess I never realized...” Her cheeks turned pink, and she stared down at her lap.
He took her hand again, gave another encouraging squeeze to her fingers. “Thanks. It took a lot of hard work and a great rehab specialist. I don’t know if I’d be in this good a shape, if not for Marcus.”
“Marcus? The man that showed up in Brady’s a few weeks ago? He’s your rehab specialist?”
“He was. Now, he’s
