I don't even realize how heavy my eyelids are until I get to the last page, but it's in different writing. It's Lucy's. I look down at her again. She hasn't moved since getting in this position. I question whether to read it or not, but she let me read it. She wanted me to.

Dear Mom,

I've never wished for you to be alive more than I wish now. I wish that you were here so you could sit in the closet with me while you pretend to be engrossed in all my girly secrets, like you used to when I was a kid. We'd giggle together and you'd ask me questions that were so insignificant to you, but you'd make them feel so significant to me. You always did that. In a house full of seven children, you always managed to make us all feel like individuals. Each of us was our own selves. But each of us was a piece of you, and dad, and each other.

But you're not here. And every day I miss you more and more. Even though some days, especially lately, I think about the hurt of missing you less and less. I hurt less and less, Mom. And do you want to know why? It's a secret, but I'll share it with you.

It's because of a boy.

His name is Cameron.

And I think I'm in love with him.

I know you'd giggle now, and think to yourself, 'You don't know true love, you're only fifteen.'

But you'd keep asking questions anyway, and you'd make me feel less dumb for thinking that if this isn't true love, then I don't want to know what true love is. I just want to feel this—whatever I feel for him—forever.

Because in a time of nothing but pain, and anger, and emptiness, and hurt... he healed me.

He made it stop.

He made it better.

He made me fall in love.

Love.

I love him.

And he shows up every day, thinking that I don't see him. That I don't want to speak to him. That I don't pay attention to him. But I do.

Some day I'll get the nerve to kiss him.

And someday after that, I'll get the courage to tell him that I love him.

Or... I could just sit here and keep dreaming about how hot he is. Maybe I'll just do that.

I blow out a breath and give my heart time to settle. The thumping weakens. The pace slows. The ache is still there. I rub my hand against it, hoping that it'll ease it somehow. But it's not a pain causing it. It's love.

I close the diary, set it on the nightstand, and switch off the lamp. I wrap both arms around her, bringing her as close as possible, but not close enough.

"I love you, Cameron," she whispers.

"Forever, Luce. I love you, forever."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

-LUCY-

"I can't believe Dad built that cabin for me!"

Cam yawns loudly and shakes off his sleepiness. "I know. How cool is it?" He yawns again.

"Are you okay, babe?"

He throws his head back against the car seat. "I'm so tired, Lucy. I don't know how you sleep as little as you do and still function."

I pull over in front of his house and turn to him. "I'm used to it."

He yawns again. "Come hang out for a bit?"

"You don't wanna sleep?"

"Later. I'll always choose you over sleep."

We sit on his couch for five minutes before he pulls me down to a laying position and lies in front of me. He wraps his arms around my waist and throws a leg over mine, pulling me flush against him. "I should go—"

"Shh! Be quiet."

I laugh as he settles his head comfortably on my breasts. "Maybe just—"

"Shh!" he says again, squeezing me tight.

A minute later he's out. And not long after that, so am I. I don't know how long after we both fall asleep that I hear the front door open. I lift my head to see Mark and Heather walking in. Our positions haven't changed so I lift my finger to my mouth to let them know he's asleep.

She smiles warmly and walks to him. Shaking him gently, she whispers his name.

He moans in response.

She does it again.

One of his eyes opens and a hint of a smile forms. "Boobies," he says, before rubbing his face on my breasts.

"Cameron!" Heather and I yell at the same time.

He must hear his mom's voice over mine because he lazily tilts his head back to face her. "Mother," he deadpans, then resumes his position.

Mark jokes, "Heather, you should get cock blocker of the year award."

"I hear that!" Cam says, raising his hand for a high five that never comes.

I giggle.

He positions his leg further around me and brings me closer to him.

His mom sighs, but there's amusement in her eyes. The same kind my mom had when she'd see us doing something stupid. "Maybe you should—"

"No." Cam squeezes me tighter, his head never lifting, his eyes never opening. "She's mine. Don't take her away."

He rubs his head against my chest again, trying to get comfortable. I run my fingers through his hair. It's rare that I get a chance to do it when he isn't wearing a cap. It's gotten shaggier, and darker, since we'd started dating. He's changed a lot since then.

Heather laughs quietly. "I was going to say why don't you take Lucy up to your room and sleep there?"

"Oh." He lifts his head to look at me. I'm already watching him, smiling, wondering how I got so damn lucky. His eyes drift shut again. "Will you carry me, babe?"

"Ooh," Mark whispers. "He's doing that fake drunk-from-fatigue thing he used to do when he was a kid so I'd carry him in from the car."