“Where were you?” I question, pulling back slightly to look up at his tired face. I notice a fresh cut along his hairline and what looks to be slight bruising around one of his eyes, plus his lip looks like it's been split open again. Besides that, half of his button-down shirt is tucked in while the other hangs loosely, and his hair looks ruffled.
“I went to see Reese like I told you. But he ended up talking me into doing a race as well. Then I just sort of hung out with them afterward.”
“You went and raced,” I say slowly, a sick feeling forming in the pit of my stomach at all the possibilities of what went down there. “And then stayed there all night?” Looking at the bruise around his eye again, I ask, “Were you in a fight?”
His look darkens as his tongue pokes out to lick the cut on his lip. “Some loser who saw you there both times was calling you a 'fine piece of ass' and was asking when you'd be back so that he could take a turn. No one talks about you like that, Jaz, and I'd fight a thousand people if I had to, to make that clear.”
I abuse my bottom lip, looking off to the side, not knowing what to say or how to feel. Flattered, I guess? But I'm also upset, worried, and, if I'm being honest, a little jealous, too. He was out all night, only returning now smelling like a bar, and forgot all about our breakfast plans. And while I'm not usually a jealous person, I can't help but wonder if Brandy was there with him that whole time.
Before I can form a response, the same door in the hallway opens up again, revealing the scowly face of the man holding his dog, but this time he's also holding a leash.
Cam, realizing we're still talking out in the hallway, grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of his apartment.
“Mornin' Trevor,” he says as we pass his neighbor, but all he gets in return is a disgruntled noise followed by mumbling.
Once inside his apartment, Cam leads me to the couch and pulls me to sit with him, wrapping his arms around me and forcing me close.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers, his lips brushing my forehead. Then after a few beats, he adds, “It was my parents' party last night. My sister had sent me a text right before I picked you up.”
Suddenly, something he said last night dawns on me, and all the annoyance that was clinging to me morphs into guilt and sadness. “I think we could both do with a distraction.”I wasn't that distraction for him, so he found it elsewhere.
I cling tighter to him, closing my eyes. “I'm so sorry, Cam. I should have–”
“Hey, shh,” he murmurs, cutting me off. “You needed sleep. Everything is okay now. I have you.”
We stay wrapped up in each other, me drinking in the warmth of his arms for several minutes before he breathes in deeply and releases. “Do you still want to go for breakfast?”
“It's too late now. Plus, you kind of smell like a brewery.”
“Shit, sorry.” He pulls away from me, getting to his feet. “Let me just quickly shower, and I'll make you some eggs at least.”
He walks over to his bedroom area, plugs in his phone that must have died, then pulls some clothes out of his dresser. His phone buzzes a moment later, and he stops what he was doing to read it. I'm watching his every move, so I notice his body tense up immediately while he stares at it.
“Everything okay?”
It feels like a full minute passes with him staring at his phone, the muscle in his jaw working back and forth while he processes whatever it was he read.
Finally, he turns his head to me, a sort of blank look in his eyes. “I need to leave for a few days.”
CHAPTER 34
CAMPBELL
I stare down at the casket in front of me, a mixture of turbulent feelings traveling throughout my system. The most prominent being regret and guilt that have my heart in a chokehold. I never replied to Jason's last text, simply leaving it on 'read'. And I can't help but wonder if his message was maybe a cry for help.
Would anything I said have helped?
Would he have still overdosed?
I'll never know.
It's possible he had been wracked with the same guilt that I had been drowning in until Jasmine came along, and he just wanted to know he wasn't alone in it. Regardless, he died knowing that I ignored him, and it's messing with my head.
Glancing up, I look at the faces surrounding Jason's grave site. His parents look much older than I remember, his two sisters clinging to each other as they cry into tissues. The rest of the people here are unfamiliar to me, besides Neil and Mase. But I guess that's to be expected since this is my first trip back here in five years. I don't know any of the people that were in his life before it ended.
I watch with emotions clogging my throat as someone places a photo on top of the casket before it's lowered, and my heart cracks wide open when I catch a glimpse of it. It's the very picture that I see daily, staring back at me on my fridge. The same photo we all got a copy of from better times, right before everything turned to shit.
My mouth turns dry as I realize just how shitty a friend I became.
