It shouldn't have hurt so much.
It shouldn't have hurt because I hadn't seen him since I was in seventh grade. It shouldn't have hurt because they told us he was gone. It shouldn't have hurt because I'd already done this, damn it. I'd already grieved for Dad, already said goodbye to him and buried my face in his sweaters to try and remember what it felt like to hug him.
As Joe lit the candles beside the altar, and Mom choked out the final words of her prayer, I had to look away. The dark green of Morgan acres had faded into the black of night. Gramps wrapped his arms around my sobbing grandmother, and she reached to touch my hand. I let her for a moment, then wrapped my arms around my waist. There were too many people here, crying for a man we knew was gone years ago. I couldn't look at them, at Bex and Liz and Macey hovering a few feet behind me, all dressed more modestly than I'd ever seen them before.
Joe reached for the box we'd unearthed in Europe, and tried to hand it to my mother. She was shaking too hard to take it. He knelt and placed it in the earth, covering it with a handful of dirt. His shoulders shook, and he wouldn't look me in the eye. He struggled to his feet, but Mom couldn't move, curled over herself, choking on her tears. Aunt Abby, serious for once, guided my mom toward her seat. One of my father's colleagues began to play his trumpet as Joe walked slowly back toward my grandparents' house.
A whirling, rushing panic coursed through me so fast that I almost collapsed. He was really gone now. He wasn't coming back. He was dead and burned and in the ground and he wouldn't miraculously show up at my wedding to give me away. It was over. Finally over forever and I would never -
I saw him as I turned. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and I couldn't see his face or hair or anything but those goddamned hands.
But it didn't matter because I would recognize those hands anywhere.
"Cammie - hey," Liz draped her tiny arms around my neck. Her face was wet.
"It's okay to cry, Cam," Bex tried to smile, but her lips trembled.
"The mascara's waterproof," Macey murmured.
I wasn't crying. I stood numbly, glassed over. He was here. He had come, and I hated him for it. I stepped out of my heels, soaking in the cool grass between my toes.
"I'll meet you inside," my words sounded hollow, even to me.
Liz stepped back uncertainly, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Go."
They turned, glancing at me over their shoulders as they trudged toward the house.
The crowd was smaller now, and no one noticed as I slipped away and sprinted across the yard. I followed Dad's old path down to the stream. My feet slapped the soil and jammed into rocks and roots, but I didn't feel it, only felt my pulse roaring. My hair whipped, snarling in branches, but I didn't care. The path was too short, and I found myself on the edge of the bank, staring down at the brook. I sobbed, a single angry cough. I stumbled into the water, up to my ankles, my calves, my knees. When it was up to my waist, I stilled, letting the water chill me to the bone.
He was here.
Dad was gone.
How could I even think of him with my father newly dead and newly buried ... Again?
How could he make me think of him?
The last time I saw him - God, I thought I'd never think of it again without punching a wall. nted to see that jerk who kissed me then left me alone in the secret passage as I roared through a suicidal breakdown.
The exacto knife.
The hospital.
The boy who never showed up.
Dad. Today was about Dad.
The stupid black dress stuck to me now, soaked and heavy and probably ruined.
I plunged under water, running my fingers through my hair. I stayed there. I lingered underwater until my chest burned, and then some. When I started to see spots, I sputtered to the surface. My breathing was fast and heavy, but even so I could hear the snapping of branches and the sound of someone running.
Joe, maybe. Bex. Mom.
I waited until the footsteps were close, then dropped underwater. It was cold and safe down there.
I heard someone swearing. He -the voice was low- yelled my name. The water distorted it all. It sounded like Dad. My lungs were empty. The voice stopped yelling abruptly, an empty silence. Then something like a sob or a cough. My head swam, warm and thick.
Strong arms wrapped around me, yanking me out of the water. My head lolled against a wet dress shirt. Instinctively, I pressed my face into the chest, hearing the pounding heart.
"Why're you nervous?" I asked Zach. My tongue was lazy and fuzzy, but my instincts...those damn instincts.
He nearly dropped me, "Oh, God, Cam..."
He lowered me to a dry, mossy rock. My head was clearing out. I tried moving my legs, and found I could stand. I crossed my arms and stepped away from him. He stayed seated, his face buried in his hands, chest heaving.
"I thought you were dead."
I pulled my arms closer, "So?"
He raised his head, locked his dark eyes on me, "So I was scared."
"So, last time I was dead, whatever, but this time you play the prince in shining armor? Get the hell over yourself, Goode."
He looked down, messing up his, for once, neatly combed hair. I saw the guilt wash over him, and felt sick. So it was true - he'd known, but he didn't care.
He groaned, examining his hands, "Gallagher girl..."
"Don't. You don't get to "Gallagher girl" me anymore."
"Cam. Cammie."
I rubbed my forehead, letting the anger out after way too long, "I was almost dead, Zach. I tried to kill myself, don't you get that? I was in the hospital, and I waited and waited and waited and you didn't come. I needed you! But you didn't come."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come." He stood up, shoulders slumped, face shadowed. I watched him as he waded to the edge.
"You shouldn't have," my voice was harsh, "But you don't just get to walk away like that. You owe me an answer. Why didn't you come?"
He turned back, his face finally open, "Because it was my fault - I knew you wouldn't want me there. My family... My mom ruined your life - I know you can't pretend that I'm not her son, and you're not his daughter. I'm sorry that I came today - it wasn't fair to you. You don't want a Goode at Matthew Morgan's funeral. I - I truly am sorry for your loss."
"How could you?" I exhaled, legs shaky again. I sank onto the rock he'd been sitting on.
"I know. I'll go." He stepped out of the water, turned away.
He was just about to disappear into the trees when I found my voice.
"How could you leave me after all that?"
He stopped.
I continued, "I was alone. My dad was dead, and I was sick and hollow and I needed... I don't know. But, God, Zach. You can't just leave me."
I shuddered with a sob, trying to choke it down.
He was beside me, reaching for me, because he always did when I cried.
"Don't stay now if you're only going to leave." I breathed before he wrapped his arms around me.
He stopped, and I felt a sick dread in my gut.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Do you just need someone right now, Cam? Or do you want me?"
I glared at him through my tears, "Idiot."
His eyes began to dance, "Spy."
He sat down beside me on the rock. His arms automatically circled my torso and legs, pulling me into his lap without a second thought. He ran his fingers down my forehead and nose, tracing my profile. He exhaled slowly, tension draining from his face. His hand caught under my chin, tilting my face toward his. A sigh slipped out of me.
"Wait. Is this just a friend thing? You can totally date other guys - I know I deserve that. Just warning you, though, I get a little protective... Don't get attached to their pretty faces."
I groaned, "Don't test me right now, Goode."
He smirked, teeth glinting in the moonlight, pulling me closer but not quite kissing me.
I sank my teeth into his lip, tugging him down. He chuckled deep in his throat, capturing my lips with his and cradling me in his arms.
He held me as I sobbed into his wet shirt, holding me impossibly closer as I shook with tears. I cried for my dad, and Zach cried with me. Zach cried for me. I clenched fistfuls of his shirt as my tears slowed, and a breathed a shaky breath.
"Do you forgive me?" He whispered, voice hoarse.
"Yes."
"Then can I say something?"
"Yes."
"...Gallagher girl."