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“I don’t believe in God or any of that bullshit,” I tell her honestly. “Nor do I believe that things are meant to happen as they should or that karma exists. Life is just filled with unfortunate events, and sometimes they happen to some and not others. But what matters is that we’re still here.” I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “If we’re living, then we have to do whatever we can to live our life to the fullest. You know why?”
She shakes her head, staring with widened attention.
I drag my chair closer. “Because that’s how we get our revenge. By living. They never wanted that for us. They wanted to use us and make us their victims, but we can’t act like victims anymore.”
This time, her hand squeezes mine.
“We have to fight, and every day we’re living and moving on and healing, wearefighting. We’re telling them to go to hell. And that’s where they are. In hell.”
She sniffles, tears winding down the slopes of her cheeks as she tucks her brown hair behind her ear.
“If you ever need me…” I say. “If you ever need a friend or someone to hear you cry, I’ll be there for you. No questions asked. Because everyone needs someone.”
She lets out a sob, and instantly her arms are around my neck. She cries while I hold her, crying a little too.
I gave Cammie my number, hoping she does use it. I hate toadmit it, but Jade was right. That was productive. I liked knowing I got through to her. That I maybe even helped somehow. I hope she does take me up on my offer and calls me.
After therapy, I had some classes in the evening before coming home, and of course Chris followed me in.
He appears half-dead, though, as he enters my living room, looking all over the place, examining my things, my furniture. Like he’s trying to understand me as a person.
“Do you approve of my aesthetic, or do you have something to say?” I flick up a sassy brow.
“Hmm…” A wry smile twists his features. “You don’t seem like the type of woman who takes critiques very well.”
I scoff. “From the likes of you? Never.”
He grins.
“Sit,” I tell him. “I’ll get you water. And maybe you should actually try sleeping tonight.”
I swear he barely sleeps, and I’m sure napping in his car has been hell.
“I don’t trust you enough to sleep,” he teases, his hazel eyes playing.
“I wouldn’t trust me either. But since you don’t have a replacement, you need to get some rest. I have a spare bedroom I can set up for you.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He settles onto it and outstretches his arms across the upholstery as he leans back, his legs spread like the king of the castle.
And I swear this need to sit over his lap and feel those big, strong arms hold me completely overtakes me. A warm current coats my skin, but I shake it off, rushing into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water.
When I bring it out for him, he’s standing, a picture frame ofme with my parents in his hand.
Startling, he gently drops it back. “Your parents seem nice.”
“They are.” I hand him the cup. “They’re the best.” Lowering onto the loveseat across from the sofa, I wait for him to sit. “Are you close to yours?”
He finishes his water and settles back down. “I was when they were alive. But they died years ago.”
“Any siblings?” I wonder.
“I’ve got brothers, but they’re not around. Married and all that.”
“No marriage proposals for you? Shocker.”
“You’ve got jokes, huh?” His teasing, tight smirk sends white-hot shame to my cheeks.
I fold my arms over my chest. “You make itsoeasy.”
