Page 95 of Final Offer


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“I’m not trying to make things go away. I’m trying to say sorry.”

“Well, you can take your sorry and shove it up your ass along with all the other shit you spew.” She slams the door before I have a chance to even apologize.

“I’m back!” Cami barrels inside my bedroom like a torpedo. The door smacks against the wall, and a bit of plaster from the ceiling falls down.

That looks promising.

“Remember your inside voice.” I wince.

“Right. Sorry.” She bounces from one foot to another.

“What’s up?”

“I made you something to feel better.” She presses a folded sheet of paper against her chest.

“What is it?”

She beckons me closer with her finger. I consider leaning forward but think better of it, instead choosing to kneel down.

Cami’s face lights up as she unfolds the piece of paper. “Tada!”

I flinch at the stabbing pain in my skull.

“Do you not like it?” Cami’s smile falters, threatening to drop altogether.

“My head just hurts.”

“Oh, sorry.” Her bottom lip trembles.

A quick scan of the paper makes my heart catapult in my chest. It’s the simplest of drawings, with a big, wonky heart taking up a majority of the page. Within the red shape, she drew two blond stick figures. One has large squiggles on their arms while the shorter one has a triangle-shaped body to represent a dress. Below the heart, Cami wrote me a message.

Feel better, Cow-L.

Laughter explodes out of me at I trace over my name. Can’t say I’ve seen someone spell it like that before. “I love it.”

Cami’s entire face lights up like a firework, bright and impossible to ignore. “Really?”

“Best card ever.” My lips pull into a sincere grin.

Someone sucks in a breath. I look up from Cami’s face to find Lana staring at us with wide eyes.

“Hey.” I offer her a small smile.

“What’s going on?” She takes a step inside the room.

“I made Cow-l a card so he feels better.” Cami turns to show her mother the sheet of paper.

“Did you?” The tightness in Lana’s voice matches her rigid posture. “What’s wrong with him?”

Cami’s cheeks turn pink. “He’s gots a hangover.”

Lana glares at me like I’m the one at fault for teaching her daughter the word.

I raise my hands in submission. “She overheard you talking on the phone first about a hang-ovary, so don’t go pointing fingers at me.”

Lana turns to Cami. “That’s sweet of you.” She pats her daughter’s head, ruffling the tangled strands even more.

“Do you feel better?” Cami’s big blue eyes look up at me.

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