Page 48 of A Sinner's Saint

Cammi sits down at the same tree and pulls something out of her bag. Not something, a fucking blunt.

“Where the fuck did you get that?” I ask, reaching out and snatching it right out of her hand. “Is this why your eyes are red? You’re fucking high?” I’m yelling. I’m fucking furious. Whoever the fuck gave her this is going to be dealt with.

“What’s your problem? You smoke all the time,” she says.

“My problem is you don’t smoke, and this isn’t the answer, Cammi,” I tell her.

“Seems to numb me pretty good. I want it back.” She holds out a hand, like there’s actually a fucking chance in hell that I’m going to give it back to her.

I shove the joint into my pocket and sit across from her. “I’m not giving it back. Whatever you’re feeling, take it out on me. It’s my fault. I get that. But I’m doing this for you, Cammi.”

“No, you’re doing itfor you. You’re running, Vin. You’re giving up on fighting for your own happiness, and you know what the worst part of it is?”

“What?”

“You’re letting them win. The monsters, they’re winning,” she says.

I can’t argue with her, because she’s fucking right. “I don’t want to see you hurting,” I tell her. “I can’t do this, Cammi. We need to find a new way to coexist and you need to stop trying to mask your pain with fucking drugs.” I know I’m the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world right now.

“I wouldn’t have to mask the pain if you didn’t cause it, Vin. You have the power to take it all away. Tell me you’ve changed your mind. That it was a momentary lapse in judgement and we can just go back to being us.” Cammi looks at me with so much hope in her fucking eyes.

“Let me drive you home. You don’t have to be here today,” I tell her.

“I tried. I love you, but I guess it wasn’t enough. For that, I’m sorry. I thought if I loved you enough, you would see that you were worthy of being loved. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough.” Cammi pushes to her feet. “Don’t follow me. Being around you isn’t helping me right now,” she says, and then I watch her walk away.

“Wanna tell me why we’re heading to the bleachers?” Dash asks.

“Because some fucker gave Cammi pot and I want to know who it was. So I can cave their fucking heads in.”

“Wait… Why is Cammi smoking pot all of a sudden? What the fuck did you do?” Marcus chimes in.

“I had to break up with her,” I hiss, hating the words as they fall from my tongue.

“You dumped her? What the fuck for? Even a blind guy can see how much that girl loves you, man,” Dash says.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters right now is finding out who supplied her, and making sure it doesn’t fucking happen again.” I walk under the bleachers and all the stoners turn to face me. “Who the fuck supplied Cammi today?” I ask, anger vibrating off me.

They share a glance, none of them saying a single word to me.

“I asked a fucking question. If someone doesn’t answer me, I’m going to assume it was all of you.” I remove my blazer and hand it to Marcus. I then proceed to roll up the sleeves of my white school shirt. I fucking hate this uniform, but I don’t want the hassle of buying a new one because I got blood all over it.

“It was me. I thought she was getting it for you,” Hunter says.

“You thought fucking wrong.” I snap right before my right fist connects with his jaw. The fucker falls to the ground. Doesn’t even try to fight back. “Any of you sell to her again and I’ll make sure you’re drinking through a fucking straw. Got me?”

“Got it.” I hear one after the other stutter in my direction.

Satisfied that they’re not going to give Cammi any more weed, I grab my blazer off Marcus and walk out.

“So… you gonna tell us what happened with Cammi or not?” Dash asks.

“Not,” I grunt.

“Okay, cool, man. Whatever. But you know, if you need to talk, we’ll listen,” he says. “In the meantime, I vote we go to my house. Party for three.”

I can’t think of a better idea. I should go home first and check on my brothers. “I’ll meet you there.”

The moment I walk back into the building, I know she’s here. I glance to my left and see her standing at Elena’s locker.Fuck me.I shrug my blazer back on and keep walking. Forcing myself to brush right past her. Pretending she’s not there. Pretendingshe doesn’t fucking exist. I need to make her hate me. It’ll be easier for her if she does.

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