He sips his coffee and sighs. "I was so close to finalizing this contract with these developers. The draftsman I hired had it all planned out and it looked great. Last minute, the developers changed their minds."

"Why?" Cam asks, his gaze never lifting. He pulls another sheet off the pile and inspects it.

"They say they want more yard space." Dad leans forward on his elbows. "The draftsman got pissed and quit. I have until Monday to submit a new plan and I got nothing." He rubs his eyes. "I can't lose this contract, but I have absolutely no idea how the hell I can change it."

I smile and pat his forearm. "I'm sure you'll work it out, Dad."

I get up and walk to the front door. "Cam?"

"Huh?"

"You coming inside?"

"Yeah," he says, taking one final look before standing up and joining me.

I lie on the couch with my feet on his lap trying to read. The TV's on but he's not watching. Instead, he's tapping away on his phone, his features bunched in concentration. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says quickly.

I leave him alone. Clearly, I'm interrupting.

"Shit," he huffs, roughly shoving my feet off him and onto the floor. "Sorry," he says, but he's half way out the front door.

I get up and run a hand down my skirt. I should be angry, but I'm too damn confused.

Cam is standing next to Dad at the table, his finger pointing to the plans in front of them. "Flip it!"

"What?" Dad says.

"Flip it. You want more yard space? Flip it. No one uses the front yard anyway, especially when it's not fenced, it's just wasted space so a car can fit in front of the garage. Flip it. Enter from the back. Single blocks between lanes right?" He's talking way too fast, and it's clear my dad can't keep up. "Just enter from the back and move the kitchen to the other side, that way they're looking into the yard instead of the street. You can move the top floor forward this way, and the master can have a balcony if you want and the... what are these?" He points to the plans.

"The support posts?"

"Yeah... them. You can extend them, right? If the buyers want to pay a premium you can build a patio there." He taps his finger twice. "You can raise it, have a spa or something. There's nothing blocking it... what? What's that?" He looks closer. "The laundry room window. You can get rid of the window. No one needs that shit."

Dad blows out a slow breath. "I'm trying to understand what you're saying, Cam, but I can't picture it."

Cam groans. "Just flip some of the elements."

Dad grimaces. "I don't get it."

"Just flip it!" His words come out frustrated and he knows it, because he apologizes right away.

I stand next to him and settle my hand on his back to calm him.

He looks down at me with his lips pursed, but it's obvious his thoughts are elsewhere. Wrapping his arms around my shoulders, he brings me flush against him and kisses the top of my head. And that's how we stay, with him silently holding me, and me having no idea what the hell is happening. Dad watches, but he doesn't speak. And slowly, I feel Cam's body relax. He pulls back and smiles, genuinely this time. "Okay," he breathes out. He turns to dad. "Have you got a blank sheet and a pen?"

He sits on the seat with the pen in his hand, but then he freezes. "Go on," Dad tells him.

He swallows loudly and looks up at me. The look of hesitation and self-doubt in his eyes almost kills me. I rest my hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to if you feel like you can't."

He blinks once and rushes out all the air in his lungs. Then he snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. "You make me want to try," he whispers in my ear.

And then he does it.

He puts pen to paper.

With one hand on my waist and the other working frantically, he begins to create something amazing.

"Holy shit," Dad repeats over and over, but I don't think Cam hears him.

Dad's eyes keep moving from Cam's hand to me, his head shaking slowly the entire time.

When Cam's done, he throws the pen on the table and pushes his sketch under Dad's nose. His gaze lifts to mine, the same uncertainty from before fills them. "You did good, babe," I assure.

"Good?" Dad's voice booms.

We both turn to him.

"Holy shit, kid. How did you—I mean—I've been sitting here for hours and you, you sit down with a pen and a piece of paper and you make something. You get it. You have an image in your head and you make it happen." He shakes his head again and lets out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you know he could do this?" he asks me.

I nod proudly.

He looks at Cameron. "What you have is absolute raw talent." He starts to pack the papers in the briefcase but pauses mid movement. "You could be an architect."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

-CAMERON-

"Your girlfriend's looking hot these days."

I turn to Matt, whose eyes are fixed on Lucy sitting in the bleachers. Her dad and a few of her brothers are with her. They've been coming to all my games recently. I asked her why; she just said it was because they wanted to support me.

"She's always been hot," I tell him, trying to keep my jealousy in check.

"You guys have been together what? A year now?"

"A year and a half."

He lets out a long, low whistle. "That's a long time. The sex doesn't bore you already?"

I quickly drop my gear bag and shove him hard. He falls to the ground with a stupid smirk on his face. "Shut the fuck up."

He laughs while he gets up and dusts himself off. "Dude, we're just talking. What's your problem?"

I shove him again, but this time, he's ready for it. Lucky for him, Jake and Logan get between us.

"Quit talking shit or you'll really see what my problem is."

I feel Lucy's presence before I hear her. "What made Punchy Cam come out?" she asks Logan.

Matt laughs again. I fucking hate this kid. "Nothing baby," he croons, winking at her.

My fist begins to fly but Logan's arms hold me back.

Matt continues anyway, "Just talking about how boring your sex life must be."

"Come on, babe," she says, holding my bag up for me. She pulls on my arm until I've turned and we’re walking away.

"What? You can go around throwing insults but you have nothing for him?"

She's silent all the way to her car—her mom's old one. She got her license a few weeks ago. I guess the novelty of me driving her everywhere had finally worn out.

I sulk in the passenger’s seat while she starts the car. "Is he right?"

"What?"

"Are you bored? Of our sex life, or lack of?"

My eyes roll so high I see stars. "No. And I don't care that he said that. I care that he thinks he can talk shit about you. And now you're letting him get away with it."

She turns to me now, with an emotion on her face I can't decipher. "Are you, though? I mean, is that why you're really pissed? Not because you think he might be right?"