"I will kill you." The unmistakable sound of a shot gun being cocked rang through the small room.
"You don't have it in you."
I shot up in bed, breathing hard. I glanced around, still dazed from sleep and my eyes landed on Reed. Resting peacefully, he had a small smile on his perfect face, right next to me. Something about seeing that, a thing I usually loved, pissed me off. I got up and left the room.
I stood in the kitchen for a while, alternating between pacing and sitting on the floor. I felt insane; I felt wrong and stupid and hurt. I leaned against the island, brought my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. I felt small and stupid, sitting there in my boxers, with tears begging to be free. I dropped my head to my knees and let them come; I didn't want to hide them anymore and I didn't want to push them back every time they came up.
"Camble?" My eyes shot up to the ceiling, knowing Reed was still in our room, calling for me. It made me cry harder. He needed me, needed me to be strong and constant, and here I was on the kitchen floor crying because I was scared.
"Just getting some water," I called back, hoping that would keep him in bed. I stood slowly and went to the cabinet to get a glass. I stood at the sink, letting the cold tap run before I put my face close to the faucet and splashed my face with the cool water. "Get it together Camble; he isn't coming back; ten years in jail means ten years in jail."
"What?" I turned, almost dropping the glass, and found Reed standing at the kitchen door. He looked so cute, too; rubbing his eyes and leaning up against the door frame. His hair was getting longer and the ends where curling, framing his pale face. His eyes were hooded with sleep still, but they were sparkling like always.
"What?" I asked back, hoping he was still just waking up and didn't hear what I'd said.
"Who's in jail?" he asked and walked toward me. I backed up against the sink, not knowing what to expect. But, in true Reed fashion, he laid his body against mine and snuggled up with one of his hands holding onto my shoulder and the other limp at his side. I needed that.
"Um, Rick," I said.
"What?" he asked again, leaning his head all the way back to look up into my eyes. "Why?" I didn't know how to answer that. "Because he hit you? He went to jail for it?"
"Because he almost killed me," I said, hoping one day I'd be able to tell him the whole story.
"I'm sorry, Camble," Reed said, and hugged me closer.
"Don't be sorry; it wasn't your fault," I said, and wrapped my arms him.
"Yeah, but I'm still sorry you went through something like that; it isn't fair." Reed pulled away from me and raised the shirt he was wearing to wipe my face; I hadn't realized it was still wet. Then he grabbed the glass from my hand and filled it with water before turning the tap off. "Come on," he said, pulling my hand to follow him. I smiled and went up the stairs with him. I honestly don't know how I got someone like Reed, but I knew I'd do whatever I could to keep him.
*******
I had just gotten off work and I was supposed to meet Camble at the end of Grape and Main Street so we could walk home together. After that weekend with Wes, Camble had pretty much not left my side, and I loved it.
That was the weekend I found out how jealous Camble could be. I always kind of suspected he was, from the way he talked about wanting me to be his. I know it was a possessive thing to say, but I did want to be his and he mine.
Wes talked us into going a few towns over where they had a whole strip of bars and clubs. We had started at one end, and worked our way down. The last one on the strip was a gay bar. Camble had been reluctant to go in, saying someone was going to try and take me from him. I told him to stop being silly.
We got in and were walking around, looking for a place to dance, when a really hairy topless man grabbed my ass. I gasped, surprised, and turned around to find him smiling at me.
"Want to go home with me, little twink?" Little? Twink? I'm not a twink! Right?
"He's spoken for," Camble growled, moving me behind him.
"I was just having fun; we could always take him back to my place and make a twink sandwich." The guy's hand moved out to brush my face, making me jerk back, and I knocked into Wes, who in turn moved me behind him also. Once the baby, always the baby, I guess.
"Don't touch him," I'd never heard Camble's voice so harsh. To tell you the truth, it was making me really hot.
"Honey, you need to teach me your tricks, you've got this one wrapped around your little finger," the hairy man informed me. 'It's the other way around' I thought. He walked away but not before saying: "Your twink looks like a whore, anyway," to Camble.
Basically, it ended with Camble breaking the guy's nose, while Wes and I got the car. The three of us drove back home laughing our asses off. Camble had pulled me from the backseat to sit on his lap in the front seat, my back against the door.
"You don't look like a whore baby; maybe a little twinkish, but not a whore," he said, nuzzling my neck. I really need to look that word up in the gay dictionary.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, and laid my head against the window, barely controlling the urge to rape him in front of my brother.
"Reed, look what I got for you." Camble came jogging toward me, holding up a bright blue cell phone, and breaking me out of my trance. I hadn't even realized I'd made it to our meeting spot.
"Is that new?" I asked, handing the books I was carrying to his waiting hand and took the phone from him. I had picked up a new copy of Wuthering Heights, so that he would also get the joke about the house. It was an abridged copy, because sometimes it's hard to understand. And I got this really huge book about hot rod cars he had been looking at the last time he came to visit me for lunch.
Yes, my man came and brought me lunch. The first time he did it, I had to go into the back room so he wouldn't see my blush, it made me so happy. I never even told him about what Brad had said that day, or about Brad period, and how I felt like a failure because of it. He just did it, which made it twelve times better.
"Yeah; it matches your couch," he said, laughing at the face I made. "You always complain how it never goes with anything so I got you this to fix it." He was too sweet. "Plus, I like the fact that I can call you whenever I want now," and kind of selfish, but I wouldn't hold that against him.
"Thank you, Camble."
I leaned into him waiting for my kiss; when none came after a second I looked up to find him staring at something behind me. I turn to look, but there wasn't anything there except a few kids on bikes and an old couple taking a walk. When I looked back at him, a question on my face, he gave me a kiss.
"Let's go home, okay?" I love that he called it home; like it was really his place too. John had called and told me about Rhonda and Camble fighting over her wanting him to move in with me. So I showed up one day when he was at work, and packed up a bunch of his clothes; making the decision for the both of them. Rhonda had laughed, and Camble was somewhat angry that she had won, but soon forgot about it once I pointed out that we would be sharing a bed every night if he lived with me.
