More Than Forever
Page 69

"Hey," Little Logan says to Lachlan. "You should go spit in her hair and ask her to kiss you. Make her your shaaaawty."
We laugh.
Lachlan shrugs. "Okay!" And then he's out of his seat and walking toward the door.
"No!" Lucas shouts after him.
Cam's on his feet. "I got it." He throws Lachlan over his shoulder and turns to Dad. "Is it okay if we play for a bit?"
Dad nods. "Of course. I'm sure he'd love that."
They leave.
And so do I—outside for some fresh air—because I can't breathe when Cam's this close.
I don't know how long I'm out there before Lucas's head pops out from behind the door. "There you are. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I answer with feigned peppiness.
"The food’s here."
The only two spots left on the table are next to Cameron. Lucas, being the asshole he is, takes the one furthest from him.
"Hey, Cam!" Lachlan shouts. I've noticed since being home that shouting is his standard volume. I guess when you live in a house with five other boys, shouting is the only way to get attention.
"Yeah, bud?" Cam asks, loading Lachlan's plate with a bit of everything on the table. Nuggets, fries, spaghetti, you name it, we got it.
"I got pupsended from school for eleventy-three days!"
"Pupsended?" Cam muses.
The twins roll their eyes simultaneously. "He means suspended," Liam tells him.
"You got suspended?" Cam laughs. "Why?"
"Because I did this," Lachlan yells.
A synced round of 'NOOO's' fills the room, just us Lachlan picks up a handful of spaghetti and throws it across the table, toward Little Logan, yelling, "YOLO!"
Cam's head throws back in laughter.
Little Logan curses and leaves the room.
"At least it wasn't dog shit," Dad shouts after him.
That brings on another round of laughter, even from me.
When I finally settle, I see Cam watching me.
"What?" I ask him.
"You still make my world stop, Luce."
I eat my food in silence, finding it impossible to swallow, almost as impossible as continuously blinking back my tears.
He nudges me lightly with his elbow. "I gotta get going," he says quietly, leaning down so only I can hear him. "Can we talk?"
I inhale deeply and nod, my eyes never leaving my plate.
"Hey, Lachy," he says, louder this time. "Thanks so much for inviting me to your birthday party, but I have to go."
He stands up and pushes his chair back.
"No," Lachlan cries. "Not yet."
My eyes snap to him. He's looking at Dad, his eyes pleading. "Make him stay, Daddy! It's still my birthday and he's my present!"
My heart doesn't just break this time; it disintegrates into a thousand pieces.
Cam sniffs once. "I have to work, bud. I'm sorry."
"No!" Lachlan's standing on his seat, looking around the table, begging for one of us to make Cam stay. "Why?" He's bawling now. "It's summer, Lucy's home now and you're not there and I don't know why. You've always been there when Lucy's there and now you're not. Did she not like it when you spit in her hair?"
Cam laughs, but it's sad. He looks at me, and I look away—because I can’t stand to see the hurt clear in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Lachy, but I have to work."
"But Daddy goes to work! And he comes home when he's finished and plays. Will you come back when you finish work?"
Lucas stands from next to me. "Hey Lachy, did you hear that? Pretty sure that was the giant red slide calling your name."
Dad stands now. "Pretty sure I just heard it call for all the Preston men. Did you hear that, Leo?"
Leo nods, his eyes wide. "It's shouting at us, Lachy! We better go."
Lachlan laughs and jumps on Lucas's back.
A second later, we're alone.
Just him and me.
And a shitload of unsettled emotions.
He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand before facing me. Jerking his head to the door, he asks, "Outside?"
*
We sit at the outdoor tables just outside the play center. "How are you?" he asks, his voice strained.
"Okay."
He shakes his head slowly. "This isn't awkward at all."
"Yeah."
It's silent as he stares straight ahead.
"You wanted to talk?" I ask him.
He drops his head and turns to me. "Yeah, but it just seems stupid now."
"Oh."
"Not—I don't mean talking to you is stupid, I just mean—" his sigh cuts him off. Then he shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.
I gasp.
"No, it's not—" he shakes his head quickly. "It's not a sketch. I still haven't been able to pick up a pen."
A frown pulls at my lips.
He unfolds the paper and sets it on the table in front of me. I peel my eyes away from him and look down. It's a newspaper article with a picture of him and a man shaking hands in front of the ballpark near campus. The headline; UNC STUDENT WOWS CITY COUNCIL JUDGES. "What is this?" I ask, my eyes scanning the words.
"You know how you used to always tell me to enter competitions—to show people what I can do?"
"You entered a design?"
He nods. "Yeah, the city council ran this competition to design a playground in that empty lot near the ballpark. And I won, Luce."
An overwhelming sense of pride consumes me. I cry—but it's so different to the thousand tears I've shed recently.
"I'm sorry," he sympathizes, "I didn't mean to make you cry."
I shake my head, my tears in full force. And then I look up at him. He licks his lips, his eyes searching mine. "They're good tears, Cameron. I'm just so proud of you."
He laughs once. "Thanks. Honestly, I'm proud of myself. I didn't think I had a chance."
"But your work is so good. And I'm so glad that you put yourself out there, because now you know—maybe now you can believe in yourself."
"Like you did?"
I wipe my eyes and nod.
"I just wanted you to know, Lucy—because I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you and your dad, steering me in the right direction—encouraging me, believing in me." He sniffs back the tears I know he's hiding. "I just wanted to say thank you."
I look back down at the article. "Can I keep this?"
"Of course," he laughs. "Mom kind of went crazy and ordered dozens of copies of that newspaper. She's mailed it out to almost everyone she knows."
I laugh at his words. "She's just proud of you, Cameron. I can't wait to show my dad. He'll be so excited for you. When did you enter?"
"A couple weeks before you left for New Jersey."
"Oh." I fold up the article and pocket it.
"So," he starts, and then cuts himself off.
"So?"
He inhales deeply, like he's building the courage to say what he says next. "There was a prize for the winner—it's kind of the reason why I entered. It was five thousand dollars cash."