Page 46 of The Leaving Kind

He knew it was his Nick. No one else ever managed to stand with the same feeling of potential, as though gathering every thought that could be shared during an allotted time.

Cam aimed his can at the paper bin and grinned as Nick huffed. Correcting his throw, he tossed it in with the other cans and turned. “How’s the proposal planning coming along?”

Nick’s eyes widened. He threw a glance over his shoulder before grabbing Cam’s elbow and steering him deeper into the kitchen. “I have questions. About pillows. I’ll call you on Sunday morning.”

“Pillows?” What the—

“Shh! Sunday.”

“Ohh-kay. But not too early.” After having spent an evening with coupled-up friends, Cam decided he had plans for Saturday night. Him, a reactivated app on his phone, and whoever was in driving distance.

“Is Luisa planning to sell the tree farm?” Nick asked.

Cam rocked back a little, surprised. “Um, yeah, I guess so.”

“You should consider buying it.”

Laughter bubbled up from Cam’s midsection. “With what? The two coins rubbing a hole in my wallet?”

“What about a loan?”

“My credit is pretty much that hole in my wallet.”

“Why?”

Ah, his brother. Always with the questions. “Because I’m not you, Nicky.” At Nick’s glare, Cam corrected himself. “Fine, Nick. I’m sorry. I don’t have your memory, either.”

“There is nothing exceptional about my memory.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happened to your credit score?”

Cam wrapped a hand around his nape. “That’s a whole story you probably don’t want to hear.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well, suffice to say, when I arrived on your doorstep two years ago, I didn’t even have those two coins in my wallet because of some, ah, bad business decisions. I got ... I’m not ...” He didn’t want to say he wasn’t smart, because that would be untrue. Cam had never doubted his own intelligence, though his superiors in the army had seemed to make a habit of questioning it. Cam knew he didn’t possess street smarts or business savvy, though. The quick-wit that enabled some people to rise to the top of the cappuccino like foam.

That wasn’t a particularly apt analogy, was it?

Suffice to say, he’d have been smarter to hand his checkbook to someone who made their home under a bridge. At least then his money would have done some good.

“Cam?”

Cam mustered the driest tone he could manage. “I don’t have the money or the credit to qualify for a loan.”

“We’ll figure something out, then.”

“We?”

To the uninitiated, Nick’s facial expressions could sometimes appear awkward. Cam easily read the concentrated concern wrinkling his brother’s forehead, though. Nick was the kind of guy who always put family first, even when his family—especially his brother—annoyed him. He was the most loyal and deeply caring person Cam had ever known.

After a short hesitation, Nick gripped Cam’s shoulder. “You like working at Shepard’s, helping people choose trees and plants. You don’t mind making the deliveries. You love being outside, digging and planting, and planning. The job suits you. So, let’s find a way to make it work.”

Swallowing over a sudden lump, Cam offered a quick nod in reply.

Nick returned one of his lopsided smiles. Then, with a cheeky glint in his eyes that Cam was still getting used to, he said, “Tell me how you know Victor.”

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