By Monday, I was pissed off. Joel hadn't wanted to listen to me. He wasn't worth the shit feelings I was carrying around. Lunch with my girlfriends was out of the question. I couldn't speak about what happened over the weekend. Van was sending me text messages left and right. I didn't read them past the first line that showed up on my phone. Delete was my friend. Stub's message was quick and to the point.
Stub: Just tell me which brother to kill
I didn't reply. I couldn't. She didn't contact me again. I walked to a corner café on Monday and buried my face in a book. Tuesday, I wore an old uncomfortable sports bra and my loose clothes that made me look dumpy. Trett and JJ tried to get me to open up, but I politely told them I was fine.
Fine, that was me. Modest, non-sexy, fine Cami. I could live with it.
I was at my desk on Friday, finishing a piece on the need for donors at the local blood bank when I heard a noise behind me. I turned and Charlie stood at the door to my office.
