30. Yellow Jasper

thirty

Violet

If you asked me a month ago if I had ever felt like I couldn't breathe, I would have asked you how that could be. How your lungs could be so obviously filled with air, though your body screamed they were vacant. I would say it's impossible. 24

But the night Reese was attacked, just before my body stopped feeling, for a second, I felt it. For a blip in time, my lungs constricted, and my throat tightened, and I couldn't breathe. That night, I realized how fucking terrible it must be to live with anxiety.

Cam is stronger than me, though I don't think she knows it. Something about that, about letting your body feel, no matter how badly it hurts, is admirable. It isn't an easy thing to say after watching her completely crumble into Avery's arms. I hated every moment of it, every second of her gasping for air, trembling and teary. And still, strangely, I was envious that she was strong enough to let it happen.*

"Have you met Wilson yet?"

My head snaps to Avery, who's lifting a Tibetan Mastiff's front legs off the ground from behind, hugging him like a teddy bear. He looks like an actual bear. Even compared to Avery, he's massive, his fur thick and his jowls loose. I can't fight the urge to smile at him.

"I have not!" I say excitedly, letting memories from days prior wash out as I walk over to introduce myself. I let Wilson sniff me, but he's more interested in getting attention from Avery.

"Yesterday was his first day," he explains. "He's perfect."

In the pet care industry, the word "perfect" means one of two things: said dog either does nothing all day or is a complete terror but is so cute you can't be mad. My guess is the former, but sometimes, dogs surprise you.

"Well, hi Wilson!" I say, attempting to run my hands through his thick coat. Wilson stays stagnant, his body half-melted into Avery's arms. Avery looks down at him, a loving smile spreading across his stubbled cheeks.

Though I try hard to know my coworkers well, Avery, for the most part, tends to keep to himself. He'll make casual conversation at times, but never about anything outside of work. Everything I know about Avery, I know because of Adrian. Everything, except the long-standing tension between him and Cam.

That, she told me about.

Frankly, I struggle to understand what exactly their issues with one another are, given that they're almost the same person. Avery might just be a little less confrontational.

It surprised me, on Monday, when he swooped in to help her without hesitation. But I wonder if that's how things work between them. The rules of the "Homemade Family," putting differences aside to be there when needed. I think that's how families are supposed to work, at least.

"I just want you to know," I say, smiling up at him, "that you stepping in to the assistant manager role has completely changed things for me. You're beyond helpful, so thank you."

Avery blushes, and his gaze lowers.

"Thanks, boss," he says, his eyes avoiding me as they travel up the wall. "It's twelve."

My gaze flicks up to the mounted clock.

"Oh! Thanks!"

He nods with assurance, and I grab my water bottle off the shelf before leaving the play area.

"Are you ready to go on a walk?" I ask as I open the door to a suite. I'm still not comfortable putting Reese in daycare. I know what happened that night was a fluke, and I have full confidence in all of my employees to prevent it from happening here. But I can't stomach the risk of it. Reese wriggles his way through the opening, letting out an aggravated huff as he paws at the cone around his neck. I open the snaps, releasing him, and we begin to walk toward the lobby.

As we pass the salon, I peer through the window. Cam is bent over, attempting to lift a rather fat golden retriever onto the table. The golden sprawls his legs out uncomfortably, flattening himself like a pancake onto the floor.

That ass points in my direction, like it's calling my name. I know I shouldn't look, but I know how it feels in my hands, and that's something you just can't ignore.

But when Cam turns around, she's frowning. Her brows are dipped down, and she wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead. That isn't anything different from her normal resting face, but after Monday, I don't think I can ignore it. I look down at Reese, then back up at her. She looks stressed, and if she keeps trying to lift that dog the way she is, she's going to break her back. I push the door open, poking my head inside.

"Do you need help?" I ask. Cam looks up at me with an irritated expression.

"Do you think I'm incapable?" she huffs. Small rays form around her nose as she wrinkles it at me, and I can't think anything of her but the fact that she's adorable.

I put my hands up defensively. "Woah, Sparks. Just trying to make sure my one and only dog groomer doesn't snap her spine."

I step further into the room, not intimidated by her coarseness. All it does is remind me of the day we met.

"I was about to walk to Al's for lunch. Wanna come?"

I know inviting Cam to get lunch with me isn't exactly the smartest move. It's not like I'm always bringing other employees to Al's with me, and after that conversation with Hayden, I'm scared he might not be the only person who's noticed my feelings. But I can't see how someone could think anything more of it, when nobody knows anything at all.

Besides, she looks exhausted, and frustrated, and overwhelmed, and I'm not the type of person to just ignore it. I can't ignore it, no matter who it is. It is my Sunny-appointed duty to spread the cheer, and Al's is just the place.

Cam looks up at me skeptically. "Al's?"

An exaggerated, shocked expression spreads across my face, and I give her a dramatic gasp.

"Have you never been to Al's Taco Truck?" I ask. Cam shakes her head, and I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against the wall.

"If you want to taste heaven, you've gotta try it."

"I don't believe in heaven," she retorts.

"Oh, you will."

When we approach Al's truck, I immediately pull a gold, jagged stone out of my pocket.

"What's that?" Cam asks, her head tilted as she eyes the stone.

I knock on the truck's window to let Al know I'm here. "You'll see."

Al doesn't even look up when he slides the window open. He just continues preparing my lunch.

"How's it going, mija?" he asks, topping off my tostada with a generous layer of cheese. I flash Cam a grin, then set my palms against the windowsill and rest my chin on top.

"It's good," I say. Al finally looks up, his eyes growing wide when he sees Cam.

"Vi, you didn't tell me you were bringing company. I would've prepped it ahead of time!" he exclaims, like a mom who didn't vacuum before her teenager brought over a friend. I laugh.

"It's okay, I wanted her to see the menu. Al, Cam. Cam, Al." I introduce them quickly, then gesture to the menu painted on the side of his truck. "Get whatever you want. On me."

Cam stares at the menu, her eyes widened.

"What's it gonna be, kid?" Al chuckles.

I already know what Cam is going to order. She finds one thing she likes and sticks to it. Vodka Cranberries. Seattle Strawberry Swirl. Me.

We Postmated Tex-Mex after last week's rendezvous. I offered her a bite of my enchiladas, to which she promptly scrunched her nose, and turned back to her quesadilla.

"I only want this," she said, taking a large bite into her mouth. "I only ever get this."

Cam continues to stare at the menu, almost like she's frozen.

"She'll take a qu—" I start to say, but Cam cuts me off.

"Make me whatever your favorite is," she says to Al. "But no tomatoes."

My brows press together, and I look at her in shock. A huge smile spreads across Al's face, and he points at her with a sideways thumb.

"I like her," he says, picking up his metal spatula. I shrug, shooting her a teasing grin.

"Eh, she's alright."

I look at her, still shocked at the words that came out of her mouth. Cam isn't a "you choose" type of person. She isn't someone you guess for because she only likes certain things, and she only likes those certain things a certain way.

"Are you sure you don't just want a quesadilla?" I whisper. "It's not too late."

Cam looks at me, a hint of panic in her eyes, but I can tell she's trying to hide it.

"I trust you," she says softly. Warmth fills my stomach when those words leave her lips. It's just Mexican food; I know it isn't that deep. But it is with Cam, at least partially. She's so skeptical of everything. So unsure of new things, so stuck in her ways. I think about what Hayden said, how he knew she liked me too. In this moment, I'd almost believe him. A smile spreads over my face as I turn the stone over in my hand.

I lean forward, tapping the crystal on the windowsill to draw Al's attention to it. Al tilts his head, immediately accepting it from my hand.

"This one," he says, holding it up to the light. "This one looks nice."

I grin and look over at Cam, but she just looks confused. I don't want to explain the full story to her. Not in front of Al, at least. But her head drops to the side, and I know if I leave her in the dark for a second longer, she's going to force the entire story out of me right here right now.

"I bring Al crystals sometimes," I explain. "Trying to promote good energies."

She nods, approving of my short, vague explanation. "What's that one?" She points to the yellow stone.

"That's Yellow Jasper," I say, making sure to look at both her and Al. "For happiness."

A loud scoff exits her throat. "Seems on brand for you."

"Don't knock it till you try it, mija," Al says defensively, shooting her a disapproving look. "I thought it was bullshit too but…" He looks at me and smiles. "Violet has helped me in more ways than I can count."

The warmth in my chest grows with those words. Al has helped me more than he knows too.

"It's okay," I say nonchalantly. "She doesn't have to believe in it."

"I didn't say I don't believe in it," Cam shoots back. Her eyes lock onto mine.

"Okay," I respond, not breaking the contact.

She continues, "I just don't know enough about it."

I tilt my head and smile. "Let me teach you."

Al's eyes dart back and forth between us, a subtle smile peeking from beneath his mustache. His brow raises slightly, and our eye contact breaks when he speaks.

"Here," he says, handing me a white paper bag.

We sit on the bench next to his truck while we eat. Al made her his famous carne asada burrito with spicy verde salsa, and Cam's eyes practically roll back in her head when she takes her first bite. I don't like that I'm not the only reason her eyes roll back, but I'll accept it.

"Okay," she says, chewing. "I might believe in heaven."

"I told you."

A small drop of green salsa pools in the side of her mouth, and it takes everything in me not to wipe it away.

After we finish, we wave goodbye to Al. He stares at us closely as we walk away, his eyes narrow and his lips turned upwards.

As we walk, I explain the full story about the crystals. About Al's daughter, and Einstein, and energy. When I had brought it up to Mallory, she'd immediately shut me down.

"It's a rock, babe," she said, in a condescending tone. "You'd have better luck wishing on stars."

But Cam actually listens. She asks questions and pulls out her phone to look up sources for my answers. She thinks about every response I give her and lets it sink in until it makes sense. And if it doesn't, she just asks more questions. She still doesn't believe in it, at least that's what the slight raise of her brow tells me, but she doesn't make fun of it either.

25"Now you know something about me," I say. "It's my turn to know something about you."

Cam furrows her brows.

"Why?" she asks, all suspiciously.

I shoot her a look.

"Cam, I let you sit on my face. Don't you think I deserve to be able to ask a couple questions here or there?"

After Hayden pointed it out last week, I realized he was right. I actually do know a lot about Cam. I know about her parents and her disorder. I know she likes pickles but hates tomatoes. I know her favorite color is green, and her favorite show is Criminal Minds. I know what makes her tick and what makes her moan. But when it comes to Cam, I can never know too much. Every time a blank gets filled, a new one forms, begging for its turn. I would throw away every memory if it meant I could make room to know more about her.

"Fine. Ask away."

I had expected to fight harder than that, so whatever question I had lined up in my mind completely disappears. But almost instantaneously, a new one surfaces.

"So, tell me about The Dog Shop," I say more than ask.

Air hisses out of Cam's nose as she holds in a short laugh. "Really?" she asks. "Why do you want to know about that?"

I shrug.

"It's how you ended up here."

A reluctant sigh slips from her lips, and her eyes latch onto mine in an unamused stare. But after a moment, she gives in.

"The Dog Shop got me started. I know how to do what I do because of it. They hired me, trained me, and employed me for years," she says, almost void of emotion. I cock a brow.

"Why leave then?"

"It…" She trails off. "It was hard."

I look at her, waiting for her to continue, but she doesn't. I know she has to have more to say. Cameron Miller doesn't just give up if something is "hard." I know because I watch her do it all the time. So I just keep looking at her.

"What?" she asks, all defensive. I shrug.

"Just waiting for you to keep talking."

"What if I don't want to?"

I know she's just giving me a hard time. That's what Cam does.

"Then we can walk in silence, Princess," I say with a teasing smirk. "I know you have no issue with that."

Cam stares at me with annoyance, but when her gaze breaks, she continues.

"They would pile nine large dogs on your schedule, then get mad if you worked for more than eight hours a day. They'd make you brush mats out of a dog, even if it hurt them, just because the parents asked you to. I hated it. I hated it there. But I loved the job."

She pauses, looking at me, and I nod for her to keep going.

"I love helping dogs feel better, and I really love the creative side of it. At Furry Friends…" She lets out a deep sigh. "I feel like it holds every part of the job I love, and none of the parts I hated. I don't have the issues I had before. I'm excited to go to work every day. It feels like I'm just going somewhere I love. Like I'm going home to my apartment or to Adrian's."

When she stops talking, she looks at me, the apples of her cheeks growing rosy. I think she's embarrassed, but I'm just in awe. I haven't heard her say so many positive things in one sentence, or even one day. It makes me happy her experience at the resort is so amazing, even if mine is different.

"Sorry," she says.

I pull a beanie out of my pocket and tug it over my ears. "I like listening to you talk."

Cam looks away, the color in her cheeks growing darker.

"Well, what about you? Have you always managed… daycares?" she asks, unsure.

"No," I answer, a hint of disappointment in my tone. I don't know how deep I want to get into this. I don't really want to get into it at all. But I can't pry information out of her, then give her one-word answers. "I used to be a dog trainer, and that was fun. It was amazing, actually, that's why I work with Hayden. But I worked for somebody else's company and…"

"And?" she asks. I look at her, those brown eyes staring back up at me.

I give in. I always give in with Cam.

"It was just a lot. We had to do board-and-trains, from our own homes. And having eight dogs at your house sounds like the dream, but you can't do anything. I mean really. You can't go anywhere. I think the most I left my house was for like, three hours at a time. And that went on for years. They wouldn't let me do private training, only board-and-trains. It was awesome, and I loved it, but I couldn't have a life." I shake my head. "Not that I have much of one now, but at least I can leave the house."

Cam nods, mulling it over in her head for a minute. "Do you like it?" she finally asks. I look at her with confusion.

"What?"

"The resort," she explains. "Do you like it?"

Do I like it? I don't know how to answer that without crossing a line. A different line than the one I've already crossed. The "boss discloses information she shouldn't to an employee" line. But when I try to talk, to say that I do like it, I go silent instead.

"I knew it!" Cam says, pointing an accusing finger at me. I shake my head, letting out an uncomfortable laugh.

"I like it," I lie. "I miss training sometimes, but I get to do that with Hayden so—" I shrug. "I like it."

I'm pleased with my answer only for a moment, before I look up at Cam. She looks like she's going to actually kill me.

"Why do you do that?" she asks, her brows furrowing. My smile falters.

"What?"

"That thing you do. Where you plaster on that irritating smile and make your voice all tight and pretend things are better than they are?"

"Irritating smile?" I ask, offended. But Cam doesn't seem to care if she hurt my feelings or not.

"Yes," she says. "That irritating smile. You walk around with it all day like it's part of your fucking uniform."

"I do not!" I respond defensively. She raises her brows at me.

"You do. And you do it with your voice too. You don't let anyone know you. Or what you hate or what you're thinking. If you don't like your job, just say it."

The words strike a sharp feeling in my chest because Cam isn't wrong. I might be getting better with it, but I don't like to let people know me. Except, Cam didn't ask for my permission to know me. She just did it.

"I do like my job!"

Cam huffs loudly, turning away from me, and marching forward.

"Oh what, so you're not going to talk to me until I say what you want? Is that it?" I ask, following closely behind. She doesn't look at me. "Real mature, Cam. Real mature."

Cam continues staring ahead. God, she is so fucking stubborn sometimes. I know nothing I say is going to please her but the truth. She knows she can get me to do what she wants, and it's dangerous. Addictive.

But this isn't an addiction you can just quit. Even if I ended the contract, which I can't find in myself to even pretend I want, it wouldn't stop me from thinking about her all the time. I could never see Cam again in my life, and I would still find a piece of her in every day. No, this isn't an addiction you can quit cold turkey.

I don't think I can quit it at all.

I sigh loudly, matching my pace with her quick one.

"Fine. I hate my job, okay? I hate Angela, and I hate customer service, and I hate having to pretend that everything is fine and dandy, but that's what works for me. You've got your whole stone-cold ‘I don't give a fuck' attitude, and I have my fake smile. Everyone has their thing. Okay?"

Cam freezes, and I hold my breath. Her body turns slowly, facing me, and I realize how closely I've been following her. I'm nervous, for some reason. Maybe I took it too far. Maybe I shouldn't have said all of that.

Actually, I know I shouldn't have. But I see a smile growing on her face, that heavenly dimple sinking into her cheek. How can someone who looks so wholesome be such a fucking terror? Her eyes travel up to meet mine, and she tilts her head ever so slightly.

"Okay."*