The same look she had when I saw her in the laundry room at her house after her mom's funeral. It was the calm before the storm—only this time, there was no storm. No breaking of the dam. Back then, I wanted to be the reason for that calm look in her eyes. And now I am—but it was the wrong kind.

I should have been the calm. Not the reason.

I slump back in my chair, wondering how the fuck I'm going to fix this.

"Her dad isn't paying for your scholarship," Mom says quietly. "The first year was genuine, Bradman gave you that scholarship fair and square. The year after, they wanted to pull it. It wasn't beneficial for them. Tom knew—he came to us—offered to pay for it." My gaze lifts, trying to focus on her. "I wouldn't accept it, Cameron. And I knew you wouldn't either. So I sold the house and went to Bradman, I asked him to say it came from them, because I knew you wouldn't accept it from me. They said they would do it if you worked there. I didn't know, Cam. I didn't know that it was going to be too much for you, and that you'd turn into this." She sniffs and wipes her tears, then turns to Mark. "I'm going to try to catch Lucy, she needs a mother right now."

There's a stabbing pain. Right in my heart. I want it to hurt—more than it does. I deserve to feel the pain.

Mark—he just shakes his head, a look of disgust on his face. "When did you become an asshole?"

And then he gets up, and he leaves.

Everyone leaves.

A familiar figure holding a tray comes into my vision. She starts clearing the table. I slouch in my chair, kick my legs out, and tilt my head back, eyeing the ceiling. "I fucked up, Amanda."

She doesn't respond, just continues clearing the table.

I sit up now, trying to compose myself. "I've lost her and I don't think I'll ever get her back."

She freezes mid movement, and then faces me, her eyes filled with tears. "At least you know why, Cameron. I didn't even get that."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

-CAMERON-

After everyone left I sat at the bar and drank until I could no longer feel my face. Amanda ignored me the entire time. She hates me too.

I wanted to call Lucy but I had no phone. And I doubt she'd answer.

I think, Ethan, Amanda's brother, who was there watching over her, gave me a ride home. I say I think, because I don't really remember.

I ended up at her room, knocking louder than I should. Rose answered, but she told me she hadn't been home all night.

Now, I'm sitting at my cubicle at the firm with my head on the desk and my arms covering it, trying to drown in my own self-pity and sorrow.

"Hey C-Money."

I grunt in response.

"I drove your car back, how you feelin'?"

My head's pounding. My body aches. My heart is dead. I try to reply, but all I can do is moan.

"Heads up," she says.

But I'm slow to react, and then Lucy's voice fills my ears. "Cameron."

My head lifts. My eyes snap to her. And all of a sudden I'm alert. I know my heart’s alive again because it's hammering so hard, so fast. "Babe," I croak.

She smiles. That same fake fucking smile from last night. And from the days after her mom died.

Roxy shifts from her leaning position on my desk. "I'm gonna go," she says slowly.

"No," Lucy cuts in. It's fast. Too fast. She's afraid to be alone with me. "It's okay, Roxy, stay." Her eyes move to me. "I just came to give you the key to the cabin and bring your stuff from my dorm."

Only now do I see her holding a box. All my shit's in there, including the folio where she kept all my sketches. My sketches of her. My heart.

She continues, "I cleared out the room overnight, so I wanted to give it to you."

Fuck.

The burning in my chest is so strong I feel like I'm going to burst.

I stand up and clear my throat. "I thought we were leaving on Sunday?"

She smiles again. I've never hated a smile so much in my entire fucking life. "I know that you wanted to stay at the cabin because you felt awkward staying at Mark's house." That was a lie. I didn't care where I stayed, but I wanted to be with her. Alone. I wanted her to myself so I made it up.

"I told my dad you were gonna be there. I haven't told him what happened, so you don't have to be uncomfortable."

Even though I know the worst is happening, still, I ask, "What do you mean what happened?"

Fuck her fake smile. Fuck it all.

She sets the box on my desk, and the key next to it. "I gotta go," she sighs, looking down at the floor. "Micky's in her car waiting." Her gaze lifts. Her eyes bore into mine. "She's taking me to the airport, Cameron."

"What!" I step forward and take her hand. "Where are you going?"

She pulls out of my hold. "I'm just going away for a little bit."

"Away?" My heart pounds faster. Harder. Panic rushes through me. "Away?" I repeat. "Away from me?"

She has that look in her eyes again. That calm that shouldn't exist, not when the world around us is falling apart.

She nods once.

And I lose it.

I pull on her arm and drag her into an empty office. Slamming the door behind me, I turn to her. "What the fuck is happening right now?" I say to anyone that will listen.

She just stands there, her arms at her sides and sadness in her eyes I hoped to never see again.

I link our fingers. She lets me. Then I lean against a desk and pull her between my legs. She pulls a hand out of my hold and raises it, reaching up to wipe the tears on my cheeks. I can't stop crying. Her name leaves my lips. It sounds like a plea.

"I'm sorry, Cameron," she whispers.

Why the fuck is she sorry?

"I'm sorry that you felt like I pushed you, or pressured you—"

"Stop."

"No." She rests her forehead against mine. "I need to say this, and you need to hear it." Her voice is strained as she talks through her own cries. "I believed in you, and your art, so much that I thought I was encouraging you. I never thought that—" Her voice breaks, she clears it before continuing, "I never thought that I was pressuring you, or pushing you. And I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that you never felt like you were good enough. I'm sorry that I never told you that I would love you regardless of what you chose. Regardless of who you wanted to be. I'm sorry that our time together has been about me. And that you have always been about me. Cameron..." She stops to take a few calming breaths. We both do. We stand, our foreheads touching, breathing the same air, but there's endless space between us. "I loved you before you told me. I loved you before you kissed me. I loved you every day since we were fifteen. And I've loved you more with each passing day. But last night, you destroyed me. You took that love and you ruined me."

I drop my head onto her shoulder and sob uncontrollably. I release her hand and wrap my arms around her waist. I don't want to let her go. "I fucked up," I tell her. "I fucked everything up. And I didn't mean any of it."

She can't control her cries. And neither can I. She pulls back, holds my head in both her hands and looks me right in the eyes, wiping my tears as she does. "I would have loved you, every single day, forever, Cameron."