Page 37 of Forget Me Not

She shrugs like the answer is obvious. “Ed. Who else?”

I guess it was. He’s her brother and all, I suppose he would have told her. And he’d have known from Gun. “How’s Gun? Did he say?”

She screws up her face, clearly put off by my constant efforts to steer this conversation off her intended course. “No. We’re not talking about Gun. I’m here for the fairy tale, not the Shakespearean tragedy.”

That answers that question.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it, Cammie. It’s been a really, really, fucked up day.”

Her hand moves over mine and squeezes it. “I know, dumbass. That’s why I’m here,” she says quietly. “You can’t just sit here, internalizing it all. You have to let it out. Hear your own thoughts, let them be formulated into sentences. Tell me what you experienced today if for no other reason than to find out yourself.” She smiles and I sigh.

While Ed grew up in the system same as me and Gun, his sister was fortunate enough to have landed with her father after only a ten-month stint in foster care. Hadn’t been easy to track him down, but it’d been worth it. At least for Cammie. Her father had cleaned up his life by then. Gotten married. Had another baby on the way. While Ed’s father remained unknown and their mother spent their childhood incarcerated, Cammie was raised by a youth minister, and his wife, a psychiatrist of all things. Some days, Cammie’s level of insight was helpful. Others it was a pain in the ass.

“What time is it?” Because I’m not diving head first into a therapy session if Reed’s about to show up.

“Nearly ten thirty. Why?” She moseys past me to the coffee maker. Apparently, she’s settling in for a while.

“Reed will be here in half an hour.” That sentence alone has the power to make me smile again. Maybe Cammie’s onto something here.

She fills the filter with enough grounds to make an entire pot and hits brew. When she turns back to face me, she’s beaming. “Go on.”

“I don’t really know what’s going to happen after tonight. We’re just sort of fumbling our way through all of this.”

Cammie pulls out a barstool and nods for me to sit before she slides out the one beside it and has a seat as well. “I don’t think this is the sort of life event anyone plans for, Coop. Fumbling is probably the appropriate response to it.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. As surreal as it all is, I’ve imagined it happening more times than I can count, I should have been better prepared. But never once did I think it through enough to figure out how to maneuver my way around the consequences. Never took the time to see all the ways in which having Reed come back would ripple through my world. Only focused on one thing. Reed. And having a second chance at the sort of carefree happiness I’ve only ever found with him.”

Cammie rests her elbow on the counter, leaning her head into her palm to get a better look at me from the side. “That’s the whole point of a fantasy, Coop. The happy shit. It wouldn’t be a fantasy if you took on all the ways in which it would devastate you and break your heart. That’d be a nightmare. A self-inflicted one at that. And I know you’re particularly fond of self-torture, but even you are entitled to take mental escape routes to happy ever afters you haven’t yet found in real life.”

Everything always makes sense when Cammie says it. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because she’s the least fucked up person I know and her advice is always straightforward and loaded with common sense and sanity. I didn’t used to count this in her favor. When we first met, I wanted nothing to do with her and her perfect life. Of course, this was right after I’d lost the only perfect thing I’d ever had, so I really wasn’t keen on being around people who always had shit work out for them.

But Cammie didn’t care. She was there to reconnect with her brother and her brother was always hanging around with Gun, so we became a foursome of sorts whether I liked it or not. Now I can’t imagine how I would have gotten through the last seven years without her.

I cringe, thinking about what she’s said. “You make me sound like I’m a total martyr.”

She laughs. “Nah. Not a martyr.” Then she gets serious. “Total drama queen though.”

This time I’m the one who bursts out in a giggle. “You’re an ass.”

“Hey, I’m totally willing to take on that part if that’s what it takes to get you to lighten up a bit.” She bumps her shoulder to mine. “This is a good thing, Coop. It’s a beautiful, romantic thing. And no one deserves it more than you.”

“Yeah?” Because it doesn’t feel like it.

“Yeah.” She nods, her warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles back at me.

I sigh, almost ready to believe her. “But do I deserve it more than Gun?”

“Yes.” She didn’t even have to think about it. My throat clenches up at hearing the conviction in her tone.

“How can you say that?” I squeeze out in a high pitched wheeze.

She still smiles at me, but her eyes don’t crinkle at the corners anymore. “Because Gun doesn’t deserve something he’s not willing to fight for. And we all know, the only thing Gun will go to war for is the past. Not the future.”

Chapter Nine

Gun

7Years Earlier

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