His eyes drifted toward mine. “Balance.” Then he walked off with Dorothy, looking like he’d aged ten years in the past hour.

“Should we open the mine?” John Royal asked, gesturing out at the tourists.

Cam groaned.

“Tourists first,” I whispered, looking out over the crowd. He’d done this—made it possible for Alba to not just continue surviving but thrive. All because he’d been unafraid to stand alone and fight for what he knew was right, even if everyone else screamed that it was wrong.

“I guess we’ll open her up.” Then he kissed me in front of everyone, and the crowd roared.

“We don’t need to put on that good of a show,” Dorothy muttered.

“That was just for fun,” Cam replied, smiling down at me.

He’d never been the one to care how things looked, and I couldn’t have loved him any more for it.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Camden

The aspens’ leaves danced shadows across the gravestones as I stood and faced my little brother for the first time in six years.

“It’s not like I need to fill you in,” I told him as I brushed fallen leaves from the top of the gray marble. “I’ve always felt like you hung around. Hell, I talk to you enough. Of course, I’m hoping you don’t hang around too often, given…” Given the fact that I had Willow in my bed every night. “But I hope you’d be happy for us, and even if you aren’t, I’m just going to pretend that you are, because even you being pissed at me couldn’t keep me away from her.”

“Nikki told me you were out here.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Dad coming up the slight incline, his nurse staying back a few dozen feet to give us some privacy.

“You look good,” I told him as he came to stand next to me, directly in front of Mom’s stone.

“It’s my mind that’s going, son, not my face.” He smirked before stepping forward to brush his hand over Mom’s name. “I’m glad she wasn’t here for this part, though. No one should have to watch the person they love disappear right in front of them.”

I looked him over, doing a quick assessment. He wore the new Rose Rowan shirt I’d dropped off for him last week, his hair was combed, and he looked, well, like him.

“Nikki also said that the last few times you’ve stopped over, I haven’t recognized you.” Dad crouched and brushed the leaves from Mom’s stone.

“But you do today?” I asked slowly.

He sighed and stood, wiping his hands off on his jeans and glancing toward Uncle Cal’s stone a little past Mom’s. “I’m enough of myself to recognize that I’m not always myself.”