I'm smiling. Genuine. For the first time in so damn long. "That's amazing!"

"Yeah..."

"What are you gonna do with the money?"

"That's the thing, Luce. I entered hoping to win because... fuck. This is so hard."

"What's hard?"

"All of it. Everything. Talking to you. Being this close and not being able to touch you. Trying to speak to you... but it's like... I second guess everything I'm saying because—"

"Cam," I interrupt. "What did you have planned if you won?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then lets out a little groan. "I looked into housing on campus. For us, Luce. I thought maybe we could get an apartment together. If I take that money and the money I saved over summer we can get one, just for a semester, but it's a start. And we wouldn't have to even room together. I looked at the two bed, two bath ones. You can have your own room. I just thought..."

I stare down at the table, crying harder with every single word he speaks. Nothing's changed. My feelings about him are still the same. So are my feelings for him. I love him. Which is why I say quietly, "I can't, Cameron."

"Yeah," he breathes out. He turns away, his shoulders heaving with each breath. "I didn't think so. I had to ask anyway."

The ache in my chest is suffocating. "Cameron." He flinches when I touch his arm.

I stand up, not wanting to say goodbye, because I won't be able to live through it. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything," he whispers, not looking at me.

"Pick up a pen. Believe in yourself. Believe in your heart."

He laughs a bitter laugh. "You are my heart, Luce. And now you're gone."

-CAMERON-

I call work when I get in the car to tell them I'm going to be late. Chris answers. He tells me that it's dead and they really don't need two people on. He'll clock me in and out so I still get paid, but not to bother coming in. I thank him profusely, and pull into Mom and Mark's driveway.

Mark grins from ear to ear when he opens the door.

"Don't be too happy to see me," I tell him. "Soon you'll get sick of me asking for your help... and your money."

"Finally," he shouts, waving his hands in the air. He steps aside for me to walk in and pats my back when I do. "Pretty sure you have fifteen years of asking for my help to make up for."

We spend the afternoon searching online and making phone calls, trying to find the perfect space. There's a reason Mark's dealership is so successful. It's because his negotiation skills are amazing. He reads out his credit card number to the person on the phone and tells them I'll pick up the keys first thing tomorrow. When he hangs up, he puts his credit card away, but pulls out another one and hands it to me. "For supplies and what not," he says.

I look down at the card in my hand—it's got my name on it. I suck in a breath and try to give it back. "I can't accept that."

He scoffs. "Fifteen years, remember?"

***

The next day I pick up the keys, use Mark's card to buy supplies, and go to the space he leased for the next year. And then I do something that I haven't done since the day Lucy left.

I pick up a pen.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

-CAMERON-

I smile when I read the text from Jake. All it says is the name of a building, a room number and a time to meet there. I don't need to ask what it means.

I make Minge come with me to pick up what I need, and meet Jake outside Lucy's future room. We moved into ours yesterday. Micky told Jake that Lucy was coming the day before classes started. That gave me just under a week to get it perfect.

"I can't even thank you enough," I tell him.

"It's no worries," he responds. "Just don't tell Kayla I had to flirt with the RA. She'd be pissed."

Minge scoffs. "You're all assholes."

Jake pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the door.

And we all get to work.

-LUCY-

"I'm nervous," I tell Heidi on the phone.

"Are you nervous for classes, or nervous for Cameron?"

"Cameron."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

I drive into campus and try to find a parking spot near enough to my dorm. "Two weeks ago at Lachlan's party."

"How was it?"

"Hard."

She sighs loudly. "I'm sorry, Luce." Her voice quiets and drips with sympathy when she adds, "For all of it. The baby thing. I guess some people don't realize how lucky they are to get pregnant in the first place, right?"

I'm taken aback by her words but try not to choke up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Call me when you're settled, okay?"

"Okay." I hang up and pull into a spot.

Rose is already waiting by the doors. "Bitch!" she screams. "I missed your perfect little ass!" I laugh when she hugs me tight and lifts me off the ground. I haven't told her what happened. I don't think everyone needs to know. I still see the way Dad and Lucas are around me, like they're walking on eggshells, and I don't need that. I don't want that.

"Have you been to the room yet?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "I'm waiting for some guy I met online to come by and unload my shit and carry it up there. I don't do manual labor, Luce." I take a box from my trunk and hand her a suitcase. "Did I not just say that—"

I exaggerate a pout.

Her eyes narrow. "You're lucky you're so cute."

We're laughing as we walk to our room.

She opens the door.

My heart drops.

And so does the box in my hands.

"Whoa," she whispers.

We walk to the center of the room and turn a slow, full, circle. I hadn't realized I'd stopped breathing until I gasp on needed air.

"Are you okay?" She takes my elbow and leads me to the bed. "It's like the blood just drained from your face."

I want to reply, but I can't. I can't speak. My gaze moves frantically around the room, trying to take everything in, but it's too much. There's too much. And before I know it, I'm sitting on the bed and crying into my hands.

"Luce," she sits next to me and curls an arm around my neck, bringing me closer to her. "Do you know who did this?"

I wipe my eyes on my forearm and nod.

"Who?"

"Cameron."

She lets out a low whistle. "Cameron's an artist?"

I take my time and settle my emotions, then stand back up and take in the room. A full-size mural on opposite walls take up the entire space. The other two walls are filled with single page sketches. I move closer, wanting to take them in. "He picked up a pen," I whisper to myself. There are so many sheets of paper, so many sketches. So many memories of us. The river behind his house, our dock by the lake, the front porch of my house, Filmore, a close up of the pegs of his bike, my brothers—each on separate pages, my cabin—everything. He took everything that ever mattered to us and he made his art. "What's this one?" Rose asks, pointing to one that I missed. It's bigger than the others, and framed behind glass. I walk to her so I can see it clearer. "Oh my God," I sob. I lift the frame off the wall and grip it to my chest. Then I sit on the bed and run my fingers over the glass. It's my room, the one he envisioned for me. The walls are filled with books, the fireplace is burning, the armchair is still there, but the little ones are gone. They've been replaced with a draft table. And underneath the sketch are the words that tear my heart in two. 'None of this matters without my forever.'