7. Ivy
IVY
C amden sits exactly where I left him on the couch, and the light shining in from the window across from him makes the late afternoon sunlight fall on his face.
A single tear trickles down his left cheek as he stares at a frame held in his hands.
They tremble slightly. His jaw is locked, like he’s trying to make them both stop but can’t quite manage to get his body to obey him.
He looks so sad.
So lost.
I recognize it because it’s exactly how I’ve felt since that night.
Exactly how it seems like I’ll always feel.
But I should keep walking.
I should go to the bedroom, pull the covers up around me, snuggle Drew’s pillow, and forget what I see.
I should let him work through his grief in his own way.
I should give him space.
All those things make sense in my head, but my chest aches, seeing how devastated he looks, how tightly he grips that frame.
Another tiny chip of the anger I’ve felt toward him breaks off, and I allow it to melt away.
I’ve spent weeks angry at Drew, angry at myself, angry at God and the world.
Staying mad at Cam won’t change anything or make me feel any better.
It won’t bring back what I’ve lost. All it will do is sour my soul even more and bring me more grief.
So, it’s impossible to walk away.
Even if I should.
My bare feet carry me into the office instead of to the bedroom. “Are you all right?”
His head whips to the side at the sound of my voice, and he quickly reaches up and swipes away the tear before he clears his throat and offers me a sad smile. “Yeah. I…” He releases a pained sigh, then turns the frame toward me. “I had forgotten about this.”
I slowly make my way over to the couch and lower myself onto the cushion next to him as he slides the frame into my hands.
The document encased under the glass bears a rainbow with a shooting star above it. And Camden’s name. Not Drew’s. And it certifies him as a “rising star.”
I raise a brow at him. “Rising Star?”
Cam offers an almost sheepish half-grin, running a hand across the back of his head as he watches me read the rest of the certificate that contains the name of a school and a date thirty years ago. “I got that in kindergarten.”
The corners of my lips start to curl up as I picture him and Drew, two little dark heads of hair, going off to the first day of school together, dressed identically. I’ve seen the photos at Nancy’s home, but I never knew the other half of the matching smiles until now.
“Why’d you give it to him?”
He smirks. “Because I was being an asshole.”
I laugh, but he shakes his head.
“No, I’m serious. I gave it to him as a high school graduation gift.”
“ Why ?”
Cam thinks about it for a minute, his lips twisting slightly as he examines the certificate. “You know he was valedictorian, right?”
I nod and motion to one of the plaques hanging behind his desk. “He was proud of that.”
Drew always worked so hard.
Took such pride in his achievements while never lording them over anyone.
He saw each one as a step in a process that would ultimately lead to him becoming a doctor. A way for him to help people. Save them.
Cam snorts. “Don’t I know it. I got a little sick of him constantly bringing it up, considering I barely passed half my classes and almost didn’t graduate. So, I wrapped this up and gave it to him. Told him that he may be valedictorian, but he will never be a rising star like I was.”
I bark out a laugh that startles even me and press my hand over my mouth to try to hold in my laughter. But it keeps bubbling up out of me, the sound foreign, something I barely recognize. “Oh, my God, you are an asshole.”
He snorts and nods. “I wasn’t joking.”
“Apparently not.”
“But he kept it.” He sighs wistfully and takes it back from my hand, brushing his fingers across it. More tears shimmer in his eyes, but he somehow keeps them at bay. The corners of his mouth tip up. “He kept it, but I noticed he didn’t give it a spot of honor up there with his medical degree.”
I snort-laugh and slap my hand over my mouth again. “I’m sorry. I guess I just haven’t laughed in a really long time.”
Five weeks.
It’s been five weeks of stunningly empty silence.
Devoid of joy.
Missing anything that could make me smile or feel anything but agonizing despair.
Until today.
I smile at him, the first real smile I think I’ve given anyone since Drew died. “I needed that.”
He grins, and for the first time since I met him, his eyes warm to the same Caribbean blue I was so used to looking into with Drew. “Then you’ll love this.”
He sets the Rising Star Award off to the side on the coffee table, then reaches for a stack of pictures to the right of the box that it appears he’s already gone through. He digs through them and pulls one out of the middle, flipping it over to me.
It takes me a second to process what I’m seeing. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. Now…compare to this one.”
Cam hands me another, and the laughter bubbles up out of me again.
“What are these?”
He sighs and taps the first one. “This was our first day of high school.”
“You two went dressed the same? I can’t imagine…”
Not looking at Cam now.
But in this photo, they’re both in the same navy polo shirt and khaki pants, both with their hair slicked back and perfectly in place.
They are identical.
Truly.
The torment that seems to dwell in Cam’s eyes isn’t there in this photo. If it were, I could tell them apart.
The corners of his lips twitch. “Kind of hard to believe I ever looked like that, huh?”
“What? No. That’s not why…”
He pats my arm, a little buzz jolting between us at the contact, and quickly yanks his hand away. “I know. Let’s just say I was trying to appease our mother, but it didn’t last very long. That one is about three months into the same school year.”
I flip the other picture.
It’s the two of them next to each other.
Camden’s hair now disheveled and unruly like it is today.
Instead of a smile, an annoyed scowl twists his lips while Drew beams from next to him, his arm thrown around his brother.
And it’s there, though not as pronounced as it is now.
But there, deep in his gaze, a hint of it. That unsettled darkness.
Glancing over at him now, I see it’s firmly back in place. Dampening whatever lightness telling that story about the Rising Star Award may have brought him.
He watches me for a moment, holding my gaze before his dips to the photo, reminding me I have to respond or things will get even more awkward than they already are now.
“Wow.” I tear my gaze from his to stare at the photos side by side. “Quite the change.”
Cam looks at them, too, his focus locked on Drew rather than himself. “I guess you could say I found myself in high school. Or, if you ask my mother, lost myself.”
I cringe on his behalf.
Something changed.
Something that made Camden go down a completely different path than Drew. Maybe one that led to their fractured relationship.
Most of what I know about Cam came from Nancy or the little Drew told me prior to completely shutting down any conversation.
Bits and pieces. Small stories and memories.
And even though it wasn’t a lot, it was clear Cam was always a bit rebellious, a little rougher around the edges.
Less worried about school and social norms, as most artists tend to be.
But seeing him now, I think it was more than that.
Cam was broken by something.
Maybe not even one thing.
He takes the photos from me. “Drew spent most of his time studying, making sure he had the highest grade in every class.”
“What’d you spend your time doing?”
He snorts and pulls out another picture from the stack—of him with a bong.
I gape at him.
“Yeah.” One corner of his mouth quirks up. “While he was doing extra work in the chemistry lab, I was experimenting behind the gym with other things.”
It’s so hard to believe that they’re so different yet can look so much alike.
I flip back to the first picture. “Did you two ever try to trade places?”
His spine stiffens for a moment, and his gaze stays locked on the photos as he nods. “When we were younger. Mostly elementary school and middle school. He enjoyed math and science. I always loved English class and art…”
“So, you switched and took each other’s classes?”
The corners of his lips tilt into a devious grin that further confirms my belief that this man is dangerous. Mischief dances across his gaze. “We did get caught. Turns out there was a very easy way to get to tell us apart prior to this .”
He holds up his arm, showing off his tattoo.
“Yeah.” I raise a brow. “What’s that?”
Because looking at the earlier photo of them together, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to even begin trying to guess who was who.
Cam runs his thumb across his bottom lip. “Get us to open our mouths.”
I snort.
“Drew loved school and was always brown nosing the teachers, sucking up to them, wanting to be head of the class. I just didn’t give a shit.
I wanted to take a sketchbook and go sit behind the gym and smoke weed.
And I guess that came out very distinctly in the way we talked to the teachers. Even when we were young.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
He nods. “Yep. Mom said it was the only time she wished our dad was here to punish us because he would’ve made us see God.”
“She didn’t miss him otherwise?”
His shoulders tense, his gaze dropping away from mine again.
He clasps his hands in front of him, suddenly shifting on the couch, his thigh brushing against mine.
“We were barely six when he died, and I don’t think she ever let herself miss him, to be honest. She just had to suck it up, be a single mom, and figure it the fuck out.
But she didn’t know what to do with us when we hit the teen years, especially me. ”
“I bet.”