Mom smiled back, mirroring my own, and set the bag on the purple armchair in my office. When I’d bought what I’d lovingly called The Outpost, I’d repainted every wall and all the woodwork white, decorating in pops of bright color that I could easily change out when the mood struck. Art school had given me an appreciation of how color affected mood, and after losing Sullivan…well, I’d needed a lot of color. Now, I was good with just bits and pieces.

“So you’re right, we both know Charity is still sleeping, so I was thinking that you might run a few things over to Camden for me.”

“Ha! I knew you knew!” Thea jumped off my desk, making my monitor wobble.

I steadied the equipment that cost more than I’d made my first year and sighed, glancing up at the onyx rook that sat next to my monitor. That little chess piece was more valuable than any of my electronics.

“Yes, I knew,” I told Thea. “Why can’t you run it over yourself, Mom? The Danielses’ place is way closer to your house than mine.”

I’d put off thinking about Cam since the moment I’d woken up this morning. And by put off, I meant refused to acknowledge when he’d popped into my head…which had been about every minute or so. Plan was working out great.

It wasn’t like I could help it. He’d basically been gone ten years. He was bound to bring up some thoughts…some feelings.

“Because he’s not at the Danielses’. He’s up at Cal’s place. Not that it’s Cal’s anymore. It’s his, you know,” Mom finished with a nod.

“He’s at Cal’s?” I asked quietly. He’d always been more comfortable there as a kid—we all had—but it wasn’t like that place was really cleaned up enough to live in yet.

“Art… He was difficult last night, as you well know.” Mom shot me a glare that told me she’d been filled in on what had gone down at the ravine.

God, Cam had just gotten home, and Art had kicked him out? That was the only explanation for him staying up at Cal’s. My eyes were drawn to the huge picture window in my office that looked east across the ridgeline, and my heart lunged against my ribs, like it was straining to travel without me. If he was at Cal’s, that meant there was only a mile between our houses. For ten years, he’d been thousands of miles away—half a world, sometimes—and now he was close enough to visit with a quick walk.

If I dared…which of course I never did. Because I was an idiot, not a masochist.