I blow out a huge breath and bring the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey."

My fist clenches at my side as an attempt to reign in my nerves. "What are you doing?"

"Uh... not much, just packing the boys' lunch for tomorrow."

"Cool." Cool? Loser! I'm a fucking loser!

"What are you doing?" she asks. I can hear her own nerves in her voice and for some stupid reason it's reassuring. Like I'm not the only one that feels like the future lies in this one conversation.

"I'm just laying in bed. I'm exhausted."

She chuckles—it's the first time I've ever heard it. "I know what you mean."

"Yeah? You can't do the boys' lunches tomorrow morning?"

She yawns, loudly, for so long it makes me laugh.

"I'm sorry," she says. And I can almost picture her smiling. "No. If I do it tomorrow I'd have to wake up at four. It's just easier this way."

I try to think of a way to help her out. "I'd come over in the morning, but I have early practice."

"Oh no, I don't expect you to do that. You do so much already."

It hits me as strange now—how open she is on the phone, compared to how shut down she is in person.

"Crud bucket," she whispers.

I laugh. "Crud bucket?"

"Lachlan's up. I gotta settle him."

"Oh." My heart sinks. I was hoping to spend some time talking, getting to know her a little.

"It should only take a few minutes. I could call you right back?"

"Yes!" My eyes snap shut. I'm eager. Way too eager.

"Okay. I'll call you soon. Don't drop your phone this time."

"Okay," I say through my stupidly huge grin.

I take the time to settle my nerves so that I don't sound like a dick on the phone. A few minutes later, she calls back. "So your mom and dad seem nice."

"Oh that's not my dad. That's my mom's boyfriend."

"Really? Well... he seems nice."

"Yeah, they're good people."

"How did they meet?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes. I love a good romance. Please, will you tell me?"

So I do—because I don't think I could ever say no to her.

I tell her everything, and she listens and asks questions. And even though none of it really matters to her, the fact that we're actually talking matters to me.

"So you read a lot?" I ask.

"Yeah. Well, I used to. It's hard to find the time now. By the time everyone's in bed, I study. I normally fall asleep with my e-reader on my face." She laughs quietly. "I'm such a dork."

-LUCY-

He sighs into the phone, and I try not to imagine him lying in bed, with his messy, dirty blond hair smeared all over the place, and his huge dark eyes staring up at the ceiling, blinking away the tiredness the way he does. Then I try not to wonder what he's wearing, or not wearing. "You're not a dork," he says. "You're cute."

My breath catches, and he must hear it because he apologizes before I can speak. I push back the hurt of him taking it back. I want to be cute for him.

I don't know what we talk about for so long, but by the time we hang up, it's nearly two in the morning. I rest my head on my pillow with a smile on my face. And then I remember everything. I remember what my life is. And what I can't have. And I remember that she's gone. And that I have no right to be happy. To be smiling. I get out of bed and silently move to the bathroom, where I punish myself for even thinking about the possibilities of a happy future.

CHAPTER THREE

-CAMERON-

I thought after what happened last night that things would change. She ignores me at school, and goes back to ignoring me at her house. I hoped for a moment that maybe some of the sadness in her would be gone, but she seems worse today. There's an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach that's telling me that maybe I caused it. Maybe I should have said or done something differently. "Are you okay?"

She starts the dishwasher and glances around the kitchen, but there's no one around—the boys are occupied or down for the night. Her frown deepens and her gaze drops. She doesn't answer. She just walks away.

One of these days, I'm going to stop her from walking away from me.

I stay as late as possible without breaking curfew. Just as I'm about to head out the front door, I hear her voice. "Okay Dad," she says quietly, then a door shuts and quiet footsteps come down the stairs. "You're still here?"

I ignore the question, and the annoyance of her mood switch since talking last night. "I wanted to talk to you."

Her eyes narrow in question.

"My dad's coming into town tomorrow for a meeting. I'm spending the day with him, so I won't be at the twins' game... and then I promised my boys I'd hang out with them tomorrow night. Logan's giving me shit that I never do stuff with them anymore..."

"Okay," she murmurs, her eyes darting to mine. And I swear it; I see disappointment in them. "No one forces you to come here, remember? You don't need to inform me, or ask for permission, or whatever."

I swallow my nerves, or anger, or both. I release it all in a giant sigh. "Bye Lucy." And then I leave. I get on my dumb bike, put my feet on the stupid pedals and ride home. The second I'm under my covers, all I want to do is call her. So when my phone rings and her name flashes on the screen, I almost piss my pants. Almost. I'm so pre-occupied wondering whether I actually did pee a little that I don't realize I've answered until she says hello for the third time. I bring the phone to my ear but all the words are trapped my throat.