More Than Forever(92)

"No," I breathe out. "I'm not ready to leave you yet."

"But you have work tomorrow?"

"I know."

"And I still need time, Cam."

I close my eyes and take a few calming breaths. And then I remember why I'm here, and what I expected. And I know that what she's giving is more than I could have ever dreamed. She's giving me hope.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


-CAMERON-

I was right. Minge didn't really need my car, which is evident because he's been sleeping on the couch at Jake and Micky's since I came back from New Jersey a week ago. I've quit drinking myself into a stupor, gone to work, and pretty much done nothing else. Nothing but think about Lucy and check my phone every five minutes.

She said she wanted time and I'm doing everything I can to give her that. Which is hard. Really fucking hard—especially because she didn't give me a hint of how much time that was.

So when my phone beeps and Lucy's name shows up with a text message, I almost piss my pants. Almost.

"It's Lucy," I tell a half sleeping Minge sitting on the recliner.

"Mm?"

I kick his leg. "Lucy. The text. It's from her."

He sits up now, his eyes wide. "What does it say?"

"I don't know," I rush out. I drop the phone on the coffee table and rub my hands against my shorts. My palms are sweating. My heart's thumping.

"Read it!" Minge shouts. He's on the edge of his seat, his hands gripping the armrests tightly.

"I'm scared," I yell back, my voice matching his.

He smacks his hand on the back of my head. "Quit being a pussy and man the fuck up. Read the text, asshole."

I rear back in surprise. Minge—he's always so relaxed, so easy-going. I've never seen him excited or anxious about anything.

"Okay," I huff out, and blow out a breath.

I pick up the phone and open the message. "It's a picture," I tell him. I don't know how I managed to get the words out through the huge fucking grin on my face.

"And?"

I show him the text. It's of her wearing a hoodie with a picture of Marty McFly from Back to the Future. Above the picture it says 'That was heavy', and underneath it says, 'Do you even lift, bro?'

Her words were the killer though.

Minge smiles as he hands it back. "Thinking of you? That's a good thing right? She's thinking of you!"

"I know!" I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Why the hell am I sweating so much?

"So?" he chides.

"So? So what?"

"What are you gonna write back?"

"Fuck." I release the phone like it's fire in my hands. "I don't know! What should I write?"

"I don't know, dude." He's as panicked as I am. "Something witty? She thought you were funny right?"

"I guess. I don't have anything funny to say!" I pick up the phone again. "I'll just—" I type out a text and hit send without thinking.

"What did you say?" Minge asks, his voice high pitched.

"I miss you."

"I MISS YOU!" he yells in disbelief, then throws his body back into his chair. "What the fuck? You didn't even work your way to that. You just went straight for it. Now she has nowhere to go! What if she doesn't want to say I miss you back? Then what? What will she say?"

"Shut up." I'm on my feet, pacing the floor. "You're making me fucking nervous."

"I'm just saying... you should have eased into the feels. That was a shit move."

"Fuck!" I link my fingers behind my head and stare up at the ceiling. "How long has it been since I texted back?"

He shrugs. "Like, thirty seconds."

"She should have written back by now."

"You need to calm down."

"I was calm!" I shout. "You and your easing into feels bullshit made me nervous. It's your fault!"

*

"How long has it been?" I ask him.

He looks at his watch. "Three minutes."

I pick up my phone, make sure the ringer's on and it's charged, and then throw it on the couch.

*

"How long now?"

"Seven minutes," he says. "I told you to do something funny. Not I miss you."

"Shut up."

My phone beeps with a text. We both lunge for it. I punch him in the gut when he gets to it first.

"You're fucked," he groans, his arm pressed against his stomach.

"Quit being a pussy and man the fuck up." I close my eyes and breathe deeply, waiting for the adrenaline to settle. When I open them, Minge is back on the recliner, but he's on his feet, squatting at the edge. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He ignores my question. "What the fuck did she say?"

I look down at my phone and open the text. "I miss you too!" I laugh, relieved at her words.