Yours Truly, Cammie

“Why are you here, Luke?” I asked, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Because…” he looked away toward the hallway, “I know what it’s like to lose someone, and I didn’t think you should be alone.”

The hard shell around my heart fell into pieces, just like that.

I began, “I—I’m…”

I wanted the words to come out. I wanted to tell him that I was fine and that I didn’t need him, or anyone. I should tell him that I wanted to be alone. But, the words dissipated the second I opened my mouth.

I thought I wanted to be alone today, to mourn Alex by myself, but now that I saw Luke here, staring at me with such a gentle look on his face, I’d changed my mind. I wanted him here. I wanted him here to comfort me, and I couldn’t figure out why. I just did.

I knew if I said another word, I was going to lose it. The tears were barely staying put, and the sob in my chest was approaching an epic entrance.

“I know, Cammie. I know…” He leaned over and put his hand on my bare knee, stroking it idly.

Then I found myself sinking back with confusion when I reached my hand up and placed it right on top of his.

* * *

Luke stayed with me for the rest of the day. Only leaving once to grab us some burgers from The Chelsea. He even brought me back an entire box of wine. I was simply stunned, and even though we jabbed each other with little insults all night, I hadn’t felt that happy in a long time. Which was so strange, considering I had expected the day to be full of tears and heartache. Luke made my brother’s death anniversary easier to bear, just by being next to me on the couch and listening to me ramble about all the memories I held with him. It was as simple as that; just being near Luke, I felt better.

He was so thoughtful and compassionate: two things I was finding out that Luke was full of, whether he wanted to hide it behind his thick skull and lecherous comments or not. Luke was making it really hard for me not to fall for him. But I wouldn’t.

I wouldn’t do it.

Because if I did, I could very well find myself in the same position that I was in tonight—mourning the death of someone who I cared so deeply about.

Fifteen

“He did what?” JoJo was beaming and totally psyched, regardless of the fact that a giant-ass hurricane was heading straight for us.

“Yeah, I know. Sweet, right?” I jumped off her counter at the shop and straightened out my clothes.

“It’s extremely sweet. It may even beat Ryan’s sweet moments. I’m impressed.”

I laughed, “Don’t get too excited. We’re just friends...” I could barely get the words out and was so thankful my phone started to ring so I could put a pause on our conversation.

When I glanced down at my screen, I pinched the bridge of my nose while closing my eyes momentarily.

“Who is it?” JoJo asked, standing up on her tiptoes to look over my shoulder. “Your dad? How many times has he called today?”

I glimpsed at the time; it was only ten in the morning, and my father had called me twice and texted me three times.

“Twice.”

“Are you going to answer?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Nope.”

JoJo didn’t say a word and I was thankful for it. She knew when I didn’t want to talk about something. That was the great thing about still being best friends with a girl you met ten years ago.

I knew exactly why he was calling even if he didn’t disclose it in the text messages he sent. He called me t

wo days ago, too, the day of Alex’s anniversary. I didn’t answer then, and I wasn’t answering now.

My finger hovered over my text inbox, and I let myself read the messages once again.

Dad: Just calling to make sure you’re okay.