Supernormal

Ch 3

                  

Meg tried to bribe him into therapy with pancakes.

Cam had woken to a warm, sweet, baking scent and followed it down to the kitchen, a whitewashed rectangular room at the back of the house where wide, bare windows pulled in beach.  His aunt was at the stove, in bare feet and mismatched pajamas, flipping pancakes.  "'Morning, sugar.  How you feeling?"

"Fine."  Actually he was so stiff he could've sworn he heard his joints creaking—the Lopezes were taking out a wall, and he and Meg had spent a good part of yesterday swinging a sledgehammer—but any amount of stiffness and sore muscles were preferable to Savannah and starting every morning with his stomach knotted up hard as a peach pit.  It'd take the whole day to knead it out, only to wake the next morning and start all over.

Meg smirked.  "Anytime you want to change your mind, let me know."

"I like the work," Cam said calmly, and that had Meg shaking her head.  He hadn't decided what to do about the money.  There was a great deal of it sitting in the bank—enough that, as trustees, his parents had decided to divide it into three parts.  He could access some of it now that he was eighteen, and the next part when he was twenty-one, and the rest when he reached thirty-five.  He hadn't touched any of it.  He didn't want anything from his parents—which Meg told him was flat-out stupid.  The money, she'd argued, was as much from his grandparents, and great-grandparents before them, and family rumor had it none of them were sterling examples of human kindness either.  The least they could do was make sure he was comfortable, after he had to put up with being part of their family.

If only he could see, he wouldn't have to decide—but that would probably create paradoxes, which was no doubt why he had this blind spot in the first place.  So until he decided either way, Meg dragged him along to her jobs and snuck cash into his wallet when he wasn't looking.

This morning, though, Meg plunked down across from him, knocking back a swig of coffee before bracing her shoulders. "I want to ask a favor of you."

Cam cut into the pancakes with his fork.  They were light and fluffy and tender.  Good cook, that was another thing he'd forgotten.  "Anything."

"Not so fast, Slim.  I want you to consider booking an appointment with Diana."

"Diana?" Cam asked, even as his nerves hummed at the word appointment.

"Dr. Diana McNamara.  Nice lady.  She's a psychologist."  Cam put his fork down and straightened in his seat as Meg bulled ahead.  "Not that kind—don't you give me that look, Camron Scott, you know I would never do that to you.  Your parents—"  She took hold of Cam's wrist and looked right at him; her brown eyes were serious and just a little angry.  "—they kicked you out of the house—"

"They didn't kick me out."

"Don't try to paint it up pretty, I know what they did.  And it was mean and ugly of them to do it, and they would've done it even if I wasn't here to take you in.  Your daddy's always been a dick, but Mary was better than that once, and I'm ashamed of her."

"I chose to leave," Cam said.  It was surprisingly easy to say it.  Maybe because that's how he needed it to be.  "I wasn't going to go back after college anyway."

"Sure, sugar, I know that.  But I also know what it's like to pack up everything and start all over someplace new.  I know how hard that is, and I'm worried that you're not going to be able to deal with that on your own.  And, fact of the matter is, whatever you chose, they made the first move.  You can't just leave something like that be.  It'll rot.  You need someone to talk to."