Page 843 of End Game

I love it.

She looks at Griffin, then Ronan, then Dex before coming back to me.

Then she hooks her fingers under the hem of the oversized shirt and shifts the waistband of her shorts just enough to expose her right hip.

Her tattoo.

Older now. Settled into her skin.

Five nineteens in one room.

Something inside me gives—not breaking so much as loosening, like a knot I didn’t realize I was still carrying finally lets go.

Cami looks down at all of us.

“Twenty feels fake,” she whispers.

Nobody says anything.

Her eyes find mine again.

“Nineteen means you still had to fight for the last inch.”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

She presses her lips together, then points at all four of us.

“Fuck all of you.”

Dex sniffs. “That’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to us.”

Cami launches herself into me.

I catch her, her arms locking around my neck while mine close around her waist. Her face presses against my shoulder, and I can feel her trying not to cry harder because makeup and wedding and photographs and all the shit waiting on the other side of that door.

I don’t tell her not to.

I just hold her.

A second later, another arm wraps around us.

Dex.

Then Griffin.

Ronan waits exactly long enough to know where everyone is before stepping into the mess.

For one ridiculous minute, we’re five adults standing in a bridal suite in some kind of uneven group hug while Cami’s brother watches us like he’s trying very hard not to become emotional.

Her mother cracks open the adjoining door.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Beautiful. Now get out so we can put her dress on.”

Dex wipes beneath one eye.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Clay opens the outer door. “Sure.”