Trust in Me(18)

            Uh. No. No, I was not. “I am.”

            He eyed me as he hooked his leg over a knee as he leaned back in his chair. “You’ve barely spoken about the event.”

            “There’s really nothing to say.”

            “There’s a lot to say.” He smiled, pausing, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “I know talking in front of people is hard in the beginning, but you have things in common with them.”

            I stiffened. “I’m not sure I have a lot in common with them.”

            “Are you sure about that?”

            Sighing, I averted my gaze to the white walls. Posters lined them. Ones that spoke of talking, instead of throwing punches.

            “Are you taking this seriously, Cameron?”

            “Yes.” I forced my gaze not to search out the only clock in the room, behind me.

            “Good. I’d hate for you to not take this wonderful opportunity and use it to benefit your life.”

            I kept my expression blank.

            “Do you realize how lucky you are, Cameron?” Dr. Bale asked when I said nothing. “What happened to that boy could have put you in jail for a very long time.”

            “I know,” I said, meaning it. God knows I knew how lucky I was. And for the longest time I believed my ass should’ve been rotting in jail. I would’ve been if it hadn’t been for my father’s pull in the criminal courts and my otherwise spotless record. “I’m a really laid-back guy, Dr. Bale. What happened—”

            “The beating you inflicted on that boy would beg to differ.” His gaze flicked down to my file. “Severe head contusions. Broken jaw, nose, and eye socket, along with several broken ribs.” He looked up, meeting my stare. That doesn’t sound like something a ‘laid-back guy’ would do, now does it?”

            My stomach soured, but I didn’t look away. “I’m not proud of what I did. Looking back, I know there were plenty of other things I could’ve done.”

            “But?”

            But I didn’t have an “anger” or a “rage” problem. And as fucked up as it sounded, I still wasn’t sure I regretted what I had done. The fucker had been beating on my sister, and well, I had lost my shit.

            And truth be told, if I had to do the situation all over again, I wasn’t sure I’d handle it any differently. You hurt my sister, you’re fucking with me. It was as simple as that.





Five

            When it came to my little Shortcake, patience paid off.

            At first, the trip out to Antietam National Battlefield to do our astronomy assignment had started off as painful as my weekly anger-management classes were. She sat in my truck like I lured her in there with the offer of free puppies, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater and sitting as straight as a board. Her nervousness increased as we headed down Bloody Lane, picking a spot that would give us a clear view of the sky and . . . cornfields.

            I learned she was a bit of a history nerd, which was cool, because those brown eyes lit up when she started talking about the battlefield. And I also learned she was in one hell of a hurry to get this done and over with.

            Never in my life did I doubt my ability to attract a girl like I did with Avery. She acted like spending time with me was tantamount to sitting in music appreciation class for two semesters in a row. As cocky as this sounds, I knew I could walk onto that campus and get a date with the nearest available girl. Probably even a girl who wasn’t available, but with Avery, it was like trying to hit on a nun. And not a naughty nun.

            “How long do you think this will take?” she asked.