Page 17 of Until I Find You

Besides, I need to know where I came from, Who I was supposed to be? I need to know myself. Because most of the time, I just feel so alone. So lost.

And though I love my family to bits, and they never made me feel less than unconditionally loved, I’m always the odd one out.

“You know I don’t fit in there.”

My mom gasps. “That’s ridiculous. You grew up here! Of course, you do.”

Through the grainy screen, my father keeps silent. No one likes to talk about the fact I’m different. But on an all-blond family, my Latino brunette is glaring.

And it’s not that there aren’t Latino communities in Nebraska, but I don’t belong there. I don’t know Spanish, I don’t have any cultural ties, I feel like an outsider both to my people and to my family. Always looking in, never really fitting in.

My parents did what they could. They thought love was enough. And as much as it meant to me to be loved, I find myself needing that something else that I have no idea what it is.

“Thank you, Mom. I appreciate it. And I will keep it in mind. But for now, I think I’ll be okay.”

Mom shuts her mouth tight, her disappointment obvious. They really do love me like one of their own. They’d tell you Iamone of their own.

That counts for something, doesn’t it?

Dad puts his hand around the back of Mom’s chair.

I smile.

I’ve had a really good role model for what love looks like, that’s for sure.

“You know you’re always welcome here, Cami. No matter how old you are or if it’s the middle of the night or–”

A text message pops up at the top of the screen.

From Jack Lyons.

Why is he texting me?

“I know, Dad. Thank you. Truly. And I’m sorry, but I just got a work message I need to check on really fast. I’ll call you back!” I quit out of facetime before they can say their goodbyes.

I owe them for that.

My message thread with Jack is limited. Simple negotiations of time and coffee and lunch orders.

However, this message is different.

I fucked up. I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you’re willing to give me one, let me take you to coffee.

I smile.

Why am I smiling? It’s not a sweet, flirty message. It’s a message from my nowformerboss, the one who didn’t seem to think I was worthwhile to his business.

Until it was too late.

But he reached out.

And I wasn’t a saint, though. I lost my temper. I don’t like losing it, not like that. I’m so measured, so in control of my day-to-day life. It takes a lot for someone to push me over the edge.

He’s not the only one in this situation in need of a second chance.

I think about the money. About the possibility. If he really is willing to make it up to me, who knows what we can accomplish together.

I type a message in return.

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