Great and Precious Things

by Rebecca Yarros

The scar I’d put there when I’d thrown him through Mr. Williamson’s window.

“You still pretending there’s enough crime here to warrant your job?” I retorted, my voice saccharine sweet.

One thing I’d learned about Camden was that he might absolutely abhor my presence, but he’d never stand by and watch me get hurt.

Sully had been her husband’s best friend, and Pat had struggled just as hard as I had. But no one had suffered like Camden. I’d known with one look at the funeral that Cam had been irrevocably shattered by what happened to Sullivan.

In some ways, losing Sullivan had been harder on her than it had me. I’d lost the man I loved, the one I’d planned on spending my life with. She’d lost her dream of holding a grandchild that she could see both herself and Lillian in. It had been like losing her best friend all over again, combined with mourning what she’d considered to be my future.

Those eyes had always screwed me over. People who didn’t know him well called them soulless, and I’d rolled my eyes and let them think what they would. Those eyes were so full that there simply wasn’t room for any lighter colors, already saturated with every emotion he never let himself show.

Yes, Sullivan would have done it for him. That was just who he’d been. But I hadn’t done it only for Sullivan. I’d crept out of my parents’ house and filled my car to the very last box for the truth that Camden would never admit. Sullivan may have done it for Cam, but even in our worst moments, Camden would have done it for me.

Willow, who’d never broken a damned rule in her life unless I’d been the one pushing her, had rescued my childhood from destruction.

“I know you’re a good man, not because of who you were as a teen but because that reckless boy grew into the man who came back when his family called. You knew what you were walking into, given what happened when you were here last, and that speaks

He’s looking for the first reason to lock you up or throw you out.”

Willow was the only woman I’d ever gone to blows over. That night hadn’t been the first time, either.

“Well, you know us black sheep. When you reject the path everyone else takes, you have to carve your own.”

“Willow, you can’t cheat on someone who’s dead.” His gaze fell to the floor.

“It doesn’t matter who I am now. They won’t let me be anyone other than the kid who threw too many punches, broke too many rules, and got Sullivan killed.

“No, I’m saying that you would have been happier somewhere else, at least until you knew your man was strong enough to withstand the weight of Sullivan’s shadow.”

“I’m not trying to off myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I just don’t want to stay any longer than I have to. If the Lord is going to take my mind, then I sure as hell don’t want my body to hang around. The last thing I want is to wake up with no idea who or where I am, stuck in a hospital bed with a tube down my throat. I can’t imagine a life where anyone wants that…”

“There are days and moments when I won’t be able to keep our truce. I can’t remember who I am, let alone who you are. And those days will come when even if I do recognize you, it might not be this version of you I’m seeing.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” “I thought you told me to come,” he replied, still focused forward. “Right. And when was the last time you listened to me?” “Apparently right now.” He smirked.

“This is the best Historical Society meeting I’ve been to in ages,” Thea remarked.

“I figure a giant sign that says ‘open’ should do the trick.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” She snapped the pants, then unzipped her skirt and started working it down. This was definitely not the way I’d ever pictured getting Willow Bradley’s skirt off in a car. Not that I’d ever— Okay, yes, I had. A lot.

I hadn’t gone after her because it was the right thing to do. I’d gone after her because I couldn’t bear the thought of her not existing.

Sullivan had been beautiful and charming. Xander was handsome. Admirable. But Cam… My heart hurt with how utterly devastating he was. Sure, “gorgeous” was a good word, especially when he opened his eyes, but his appeal was more than that. He was magnetic, which certainly repelled some, but never me. No, he drew me in like gravity, an undeniable, irrefutable force that anchored my world. A decade apart had taught me that I’d never break free of him, not really. It didn’t matter where I lived—gravity existed and held my feet to the earth. It didn’t matter who I dated—I’d always be drawn to Cam.

But there was one zone I would never get out of—the dead-brother’s-girl zone. Nope. That category came with barbed wire, electric fences, and guards called guilt who shot on sight.

Oh crap. Sleeping Cam was one thing. Sleepy Cam was quite another. He cracked a huge yawn, stretching his hands up to the doorframe. His shirt drifted up, revealing so many abs. So. So. So many abs. It was like they’d brought friends along to play or something, because that many ridges couldn’t be normal. Nope. He was inhuman.

“Because letting someone do things for you, letting someone care for you, gives them power. Power’s not something I give away.”

I was most angry at Sullivan, because he had the right I would have died for and never even used it. Because when he passed, it was Mom’s name on his lips, when I knew mine would have been yours.”

“Willow Bradley has always been your girl, Camden. Doesn’t imply any romance.” He arched an eyebrow.

“I think he meant exactly that. If he had been the one dying, he would have said your name.” She sagged against the seat, like I’d knocked the wind out of her. “Man, I never in a million years thought Camden Daniels had a romantic bone in his body.”

“You two are a damned Shakespearean tragedy. It’s slightly entertaining yet incredibly painful to watch.”

“I was heartbroken that Sullivan died, but, Cam, the only reason I could breathe was because you survived. I was so ashamed that all I was allowed to feel was the grief when the relief was the bigger emotion.” Her shoulders hunched as she looked away.

“You fight for your country. For Sullivan. For your dad and even for me. Why can’t you let someone fight for you? Why won’t you let me fight for you?”

“No,” she whispered, but it carried. “Sullivan was the replacement for you.”

“It was always you, Cam.” She closed the inches between us, resting her hands on my chest, on the heart she didn’t realize only beat because hers did. “I’ve loved you since forever. I’ve been in love with you since I was old enough to understand what that meant. No one else ever had a shot of getting close. How could they, when you took my heart with you?”

“Because our timing is right for the first time in our lives. I’m not rushing through something I’ve wanted my whole life just for instant gratification. I’m going to savor every single step I get to take with you. I’m going to date the hell out of you, Willow Bradley.”

“Hey, Pika,” he replied with a wink. Hate to break it to Mrs. Barstrom, my freshman biology teacher, but she was wrong. That wink right there was how babies were made.

“It’s okay. You can kiss her,” Rose said from the hallway, and I ducked my head, laughing. “Some chaperone you are,” Cam drawled.

“Your coat, my dear.” I handed Cam’s jacket over as we met in front of the Jeep. “I like the sound of that,” he said quietly, taking it. “My dear?” He nodded, then slipped the jacket on and zipped it up. I noticed the label and laughed.

We stood there looking at each other with upturned lips. I loved designing it for him. Loved working with him. Loved helping him and confiding in him. Loved everything about every moment I got with him.

He traced the bump on my nose with his finger. “We can come back and make an even better memory,” he whispered. “You say no to hot springs, but a dark and creepy mine is on the table?” I teased. “Eventually everywhere is on the table.” His eyes heated.

“You can pretend it’s gold now that you know it’s not.” He tapped her helmet. “I’m not in the habit of lying to girls.”

“Mrs. Bradley.” I nodded to her mom. “She’s happy.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Keep her that way.” Her gaze hardened for a second in motherly warning, and a pang of longing for my mother hit me. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Those same hands hold me. They build bridges and dams and restore old, broken mines. I’m not scared of your hands, Cam. I know what’s in your heart.”

“I’m torn,” he admitted. “Because I love you enough to beg you to get away from him. But I love him enough to beg you not to leave him. Not to give up on him. Because I honestly think you’re the one person who can rebuild him—or break him. He’s way past ever listening to me.”

“He isn’t bad. He isn’t some kind of universal weight to balance out your blessings, Art. He is the blessing. He’s kind, and loyal, and protective, and smart. And he wears unicorn shirts for little girls, and rescues bigger ones from snowbanks, and takes on the only brother he has left so you can have what you want.”

“All great and precious things are lonely.”

“I believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man, particularly if she happens to have love in her heart. I guess a loving woman is indestructible.”

I’d known by the time I was ten that the only world I wanted to live in was hers. To see the world in colors and light the way she did, to witness the way her hands created beauty from nothingness, knowing it was a direct representation of her own soul.

I built temporary bridges to transport military equipment. But I also built permanent ones to transport food and people. I set off bombs in buildings where terrorists met and then built a school to educate the little sister who’d watched her bigger one killed for daring to crack a book. I was forever paying the debt for the lives I’d taken, trying to balance out the weight so my handbasket to hell didn’t sink quite so fast.

Then, with the rook biting into my palm, I walked back to the house, where I knew she’d be waiting, because I’d fallen for a woman who might just be as stubborn as I was.