Page 22 of End Game

Too many people need me present.

I take deep breaths, timing and counting both the inhales and exhales.

In for four.

Hold.

Out for six.

Again.

I give my brain the pattern because patterns are something it knows what to do with.

I step beside them and put my hand on Cami’s back. I don’t know what pattern will comfort her, so I don’t try to create one—just slow passes of my palm, enough to tell her I’m here.

Dex looks over Cami’s shoulder and catches my eye.

Then the little menace winks at me.

And somehow I understand exactly what he means.

I’ve got her. We’re okay. You don’t have to fix everything.

My shoulders finally begin to loosen.

Chapter four

Passive Insight

Dex

People make this really fucking stupid assumption that because I don’t take myself seriously, I don’t take anything seriously.

Which—rude.

And wrong.

I joke about shit because sometimes shit is heavy, and if I can make Micah roll his eyes at me, it weighs a little less.

I thought Micah and Ronan knew that about me.

Maybe they do.

Maybe they just don’t realize it means I recognize the same bullshit when Cami does it.

Hearing what happened at Ronan’s parents’ house made something mean crawl up my spine.

Not jealous. Not possessive.

Just this sudden, vicious certainty that I wanted to make sure that asshole never got close enough to make her feel like that again.

Also, like me, I knew she’d pretend like she was fine.

Make a joke about it.

Try not to inconvenience the rest of us.

Because Cami and I have something else in common.