Cami

“So,” Camille asked as she put her Range Rover Sport in drive. “How’d your reading go with Ronnie?”

“Actually, much better than I expected,” Nate replied. “I don’t usually believe in that sorta stuff.”

Camille was still winded from running home from Sweet Thangs, but she managed a smirk. “Me either. But why’d you agree to do it?”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

She couldn’t contain her laughter. “That’s so not a reason to let someone read your fortune.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m definitely right. What if he told you something you didn’t want to hear?”

Nate shrugged. “Luckily, he didn’t.”

“Just be careful. Ronnie’s one thing, but there are a lot of people in this town who will take advantage of you. You’re way too trusting, California.”

“And you’re way too skeptical, Na’wlins.”

“I’m not skeptical.”

“Oh really? Have you ever let Ronnie give you a psychic reading?”

“No.” Not really much point in looking into my future when I know I’m terminally ill.

“Well you should,” Nate taunted.

“And why’s that?”

“Because then he could confirm that I’m the man of your dreams.”

Camille snorted. “Oh my God. Do you practice these lines in the mirror or something?”

Nate laughed, too. “No, actually that’s one of Ty’s. He was always way better with the ladies than I am.”

“Oh.” Cami was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like talking about Ty. It makes it feel like he’s still part of my life, ya know? My parents never talk about him. They act like his name is a bad word. It drives me crazy.”

“Sorry,” Cami said again.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Right. Sorry. I mean . . .” she sighed. “Apparently I’m not good at this.”

Nate grinned. “You’re better than you think.”

“So what did Ronnie tell you that made you a believer?” Camille asked after a while. “I mean, if you wanna share.”

“At first, he just said a lot of generic stuff that I’ve heard before, like you’re gonna be okay, you’re allowed to live your life, blah, blah, blah. But then, he said ‘nice shirt’ and winked.”

“And that changed your mind?”

“Ty gave me this shirt. I know it’s stupid, but when Ronnie winked at me with that crooked smile, I swear it felt like Ty was right there in the café with me.”

Camille watched Nate’s wistful smile twist his features while she drove through the pounding rain. She’d never really believed in psychic powers or mediums, but she knew many others did. And the idea that people took comfort in signs from those they’d lost gave her a sliver of peace. “It’s not stupid,” she said quietly.

Nate took her hand and squeezed. “Thanks.”

She drove like that for a while, in the silence, with Nate’s hand wrapped warmly around hers. His thumb traced blazing circles on the back of her palm, and Camille was grateful the rain forced her to focus on the road.

She followed the GPS and pulled up in front of a narrow purple shotgun house in the Bywater. It had definitely seen better days. The porch roof sagged and the pillars looked weary under the weight. Even the stairs leading up the house looked unstable. There was a ratty couch on the porch and the front door was open, only protected by a torn screen door.

This couldn’t be where Nate lived. The place looked abandoned. Camille was about to double-check her GPS when Nate interrupted.

“There’s nothing wrong with Google maps. This is the right place.”

She looked at him, trying to mask the shock from her face. “This is your dad’s house?”

“Yeah. It’s a ‘fixer upper,’” Nate said using air quotes. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve been helping him renovate it. We’ve mostly been focusing on the inside, as you can probably tell,” he said lightly.

Camille schooled her features. Apparently she wasn’t doing a very good job hiding her worry. “Right.”

“I’d invite you in,” Nate said, “but it looks like the AC went out again. Thank God for the rain or I’d probably be sleeping on the porch again.”

Camille’s eyes widened with alarm. “Nate—”

“Kidding. I know it’s not Casa LaRue, but it’s nice enough inside. You don’t need to look so worried.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Right,” Nate said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “If your eyes got any wider I’d be able to see your brain, which come to think of it, might not be such a bad thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause I think you only say about ten percent of what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” Nate leaned closer. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Camille LaRue.”

“I’m thinking, if your house is so great, why are you still in my car?”

Nate grinned. “That’s easy. I just want to enjoy our date for a little bit longer.”

“This isn’t a date.”

“In my head it is, and this is the part when I kiss you.”

“Okay, even if this was a date, I would not be kissing you right now.”

Nate leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “Shhh. You’re ruining it.”

“Ruining what?”

“Our first kiss.”

Camille swatted him.

“Wow,” he crooned.

“What?”

“You’re a really good kisser.”

She blushed but couldn’t help laughing. “Oh yeah?”

Nate grinned and leaned over the center console until his face was mere inches from hers. For a brief second, Camille thought Nate was actually going to kiss her. And for an even briefer second, she kind of wanted him to.

Instead, Nate whispered, “Yeah,” in her ear, sending a heat wave over her skin. He leaned back and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride, Cami. And thanks for letting me talk about Ty. He would’ve liked you.”

“You’re welcome. And I’m pretty sure I would’ve liked him, too.”

“Good night,” he said, giving her hand a quick kiss before grabbing his things and dashing up the rickety stairs to his house.

He gave her a giant smile and waved before disappearing inside. Camille waited a few minute before pulling away, just in case he’d been lying and the house really was inhabitable. But when he didn’t come back out she backed out of his driveway, her heart heavy with the feeling that for once she’d have to change her plans. Because it seemed Nate needed her to let him in, more than Camille needed to lock him out.

Nate

Nate lay on his back staring up at the cracked ceiling. The fan creaked noisily, circulating the humid air. He’d been right about the AC being out. But that was the least of his worries. His dad was having another bad night. Nate found him passed out on the couch with an empty bottle of bourbon in his hand. After getting him to bed and opening all the windows to get some air into the stifling house, Nate retreated to his room.

He couldn’t stop picturing Camille’s face when she’d pulled up to his rundown house. The place wasn’t really that bad. It’d just been neglected for a while. With some rehab and attention it could easily be fixed up. The thought made Nate smirk, because it was basically an analogy for his dad. He hadn’t always been such a mess. But after Tyler died, he just sort of fell apart. And instead of leaning on each other, his parents tore each other apart with blame over the accident. But it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Tyler was killed in a car accident. It sucked, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. He lost control of his car. He wasn’t drinking or on drugs. It was just an accident.

Nate studied the jagged crack that ran the length of the ceiling. It split off into dozens of tiny fissures that ran off in different directions. It was hard not to think of them as different paths his life might have taken if Tyler were still alive. Would he be in New Orleans? Would his parents still be married? Would his mom have taken the job in London?

She would absolutely freak out if she knew how bad Nate’s living situation was. The house looked exactly the same as it did when Nate’s dad bought it. His dad grew up in New Orleans, but moved to California for college, where he met Nate’s mom. After Hurricane Katrina, his dad came back to NOLA to help the first responders. He’d stayed for a while, helping rebuild homes in his old neighborhood and apparently bought this house in the process. He’d supposedly been working on it on and off for a few years whenever he visited New Orleans while touring with his band. But from the looks of it, his father must’ve done more partying than fixing. Half his dad’s problem, according to Nate’s mom.

Nate thought back to what he and Ronnie had talked about. All good things are worth fighting for. Nate studied the cracks in the ceiling again. He would never have chosen this path for his life, but this was where he was now. His only choice was to make the most of it. And although he didn’t normally put a lot of stock into Ronnie’s type of fortune telling, Nate did believe things happened for a reason. He still wasn’t sure why Tyler was taken from him, but this new path Nate was on had brought him to Camille, and from the moment he met her, he knew that he was meant to know her. Now if only he could convince her of that.