Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1) Read Free Page B

to us.”
    “Santiago,” I start but don’t bother finishing. There are a thousand excuses I can give him, a million reasons, but right now they all seem insufficient. I clear my throat before I say, “Yan’s coming then?” My eyes dance around the room and I try to come up with a plan to escape.
    “Not yet. I left her a voice mail to call me, but she hasn’t called me back. I told Carmen, though. I imagine they’re both on their way.” His strong fingers grip around my wrist and squeeze hard enough to get my attention. “Stop trying to get away, Cam. You’re not going anywhere.”
    Hoping it’ll lighten the intensity in the room, I mutter, “Ballbuster,” under my breath.
    Loud and unrestrained, his laughter radiates off the walls and crashes into me, the sadness in my soul growing with the sound.
    “That would imply you had balls to bust, boy.” He laughs harder until his laughter turns into the small wheezes I’ve missed since I left. “Pretty sure you lost those when you walked out on your family and the girl who’s loved you since you two were just kids. She hasn’t stopped, ya know.”
    In spite of myself, I find myself grinning at Santiago’s admission. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father figure. There was a time when I didn’t just wish he were my dad, but I also secretly referred to him as that.
    I take him in, fully assessing him for seven years’ worth of changes. The wrinkles on his face have deepened, and the gray hairs have become more pronounced, but he’s still Santiago. Physically fit, mentally aware, and with a smile spread across his face, as if he was always only seconds away from cracking his favorite joke.
    It’s not until I see black residue beneath his normally clean fingernails that I finally ask him what he’s doing here.
    “I was one of the guys called to the building you were in when it caught fire.”
    “And you went in?” I want to yell at him, but my voice is still too hoarse to carry any strength. “By the time I woke up, it was an inferno. You can’t go into fires like that, Santiago. You have a family. Think about Yan and Carmen. What would they do if something happened to you?” My chest heaves while the words bleed out of my mouth in a frenzy of guilt and fear.
    My heart slams against my ribs, and I press the button to release more morphine into my system, but nothing happens. Desperate, I press it again. When nothing drips down, Santiago takes the button away from me and gives me two Tylenols from the front pocket of his jeans.
    They won’t help.
    But I take them anyway.
    “It’s my job, Cam,” he says, repeating the same words he once told me when I was a teenager, warning him not to go into burning houses.
    I didn’t understand it back then, but after what I’ve experienced these past few years, I get it.
    Santiago was born to make a difference. It doesn’t matter that he comes from a wealthy family or that he doesn’t have to work. It’s in his blood, the core of who he is—a good man with strong morals and a desire to help.
    “I get that; I do.” With careful motion, my body leans forward and tries to sit up, but when I see the bed’s remote, I use it to prop me up. “But there was a lot of smoke. It would’ve been too dangerous. You swore, you never went into buildings that were too dangerous.”
    Santiago rubs his hands over his face—a gesture I picked up from him and use often—and sits on my bed, resting his hand on my left foot.
    “I don’t.” He squeezes my foot and looks at me before he shakes his head. “The fire was huge. It was out of our control. None of us were gonna go in until it’d died down, but, hell, Cam, I heard my baby girl scream.” His lips turn into a scowl, and he rubs his hands over his face once again. “I heard Yan screaming, and I didn’t have a choice.”
    My eyes widen at his declaration, and fear burns into my lungs until I can’t breathe.
    “Yan?” I whisper.
    “She’s