Chapter 50 Waiting and Worries
Waiting and Worries
It’s been a long time since Camille left for her brunch. She said she would only be there a couple hours. Now the afternoon is almost over, the sun casting long shadows through the living room window, and my phone is still painfully quiet.
I tell myself to relax. She’s probably just catching up with friends. She deserves that—normalcy, time away, space. I like that she has a life outside of this house.
But still. No texts. No calls. Not even a damn emoji. It’s not like her.
My gut tells me something is wrong. I check my phone again like an idiot. Nothing.
Tyler and I are working out, Tyler is throwing weights around like it’s going to answer all the world’s problems.
He looks up at me as I sit down on the bench seat next to him, worry etched across my face.
“Nothing?” he asks, wiping sweat off his brow.
I shake my head. “Nah. It’s really not like her.”
Just as I’m about to say more, the front door slams. Hard.
A blur of Camille rushes past the hallway, her face down, shoulders stiff, clutching her handbag like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.
“Camille?” I call after her, but she doesn’t stop.
Bedroom door slams shut.
I glance at Tyler. His brow furrows.
“What the hell?”
I’m halfway down the hall before I pause. Her breathing is uneven—ragged. Crying. Fuck. I rest my forehead against her door, fist clenched, torn between giving her what she clearly wants—space—and what I want—to be there. Ten minutes. I’ll give her ten minutes before I check on her.
The minutes crawl by. I check the time twice. Ten exactly. I open the door slowly, careful not to startle her.
She’s curled on the bed, body turned to the door, clutching Gizmo tight to her chest.
Her face is stained with dried tears, her breathing soft and uneven, but she’s asleep.
I move quietly across the room and pull the blanket up over her shoulders.
She stirs but doesn’t wake.
I kneel, press a gentle kiss to her cheek.
“I’m here,” I whisper, even if she can’t hear me. Then I slip out and pull the door closed behind me.
Back outside, Tyler’s still working through reps. I grab a towel and join him again.
“Everything okay?” he asks, not looking at me.
“She’s asleep now,” I say. “But she’d been crying.”
He exhales. “Shit.”
We lift in silence for a while, the sound of metal and breath filling the space.
“Think she’s okay?” Tyler asks finally.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “Somethings obviously happened. She didn’t want to talk. I just… I hate knowing she’s upset and there’s nothing I can do.”
When we finish our work out we start dinner prep, chopping vegetables side by side in the kitchen. It’s quiet for a while, until I glance sideways at him.
“So… have you thought more about it? Danielle’s leaving soon. You gonna just let her go?”
Tyler tenses slightly. “She has her plans. Nothing to do with me.”
“Right. Except she’s your friend. And you’ve been looking like a kicked puppy ever since she told you.”
He scoffs, trying to play it off. “I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe you could go too,” I offer, casually. “I mean, not that I want to lose my best tradie but if you want to be with her… Even just as her friend?”
He looks at me, surprised. “You serious?”
“Mate, I’d rather lose you to something good than see you mope around here.”
He laughs under his breath, finally relaxing a little. “Thanks,” he mutters. “Don’t know what I’m doing yet. But maybe.”
We keep chopping, the kitchen slowly filling with the smell of dinner and unspoken worry.
And I keep glancing down the hallway, heart heavy, already wondering what Camille’s going to tell me when she wakes up.