Page 56 of The Backup Plan

“The stadium sounds like a drill sometimes,” he said. He frowned at the stone, blew it off, and switched to the fine-point bit. “It’s loud when you let it get loud, but when you get in the zone, you don’t notice so much. It’s the same with having an audience.”

She smiled. “I’ll try to refrain from cheering.”

He nodded and kept his eyes down. She was so close—less than two feet away, on a spinning stool just like his. He could touch her and ask her what happened to her brother, and tell her what happened to his. He could kiss her and tell her why he loved flowers so much, about the bees and his hat and everything he loved and hated that might go into that tattoo design.

If she belonged to him, he could make her understand. He could explain it without words if he could kiss her.

“Avery?”

“Cameron?”

His breath caught in his throat when she met his eyes.

“Can you hand me that pencil? It got away from me.”

She scooped it up from where it rolled in front of her and dropped it in his open hand.

He sketched another flower next to the wisteria. “There. Hollyhocks. I’m going to try and make some of the top flowers bend forward, so I can’t cut as much off the top layer for those. They’ll need to be almost the same depth as the marigolds.”

“I’m entranced. Go on.”

After dunking the bit in a little puddle of water accumulated in the branches of the wisteria, he traced the outline of the hollyhocks. “Soapstone is good when you’re still learning,” he said, rambling as he worked. “The drills scoop it out evenly without a lot of work. You just have to know what you’re digging for. Even marble is a lot more malleable than you’d think.”

“I always think of marble for old statues. Ancient artists with itty-bitty chisels working for years to make one piece.”

“It’s fun with the chisels as well, but a little easier to take out too much of a hard stone, like granite. Most headstones are done by sandblasting or laser etching these days. The people who carve granite by hand are so good.”

He nearly drilled into a wisteria blossom. That was not the way he intended to ask about her brother. Pulling the rotary back, he took a deep breath to regain his focus.

“I’ve seen some with interesting designs on headstones. Reliefs, and things.” She nodded at the stone. “What an interesting job that must be. Probably a lot of the same old things, and once in a while, some weirdo with a funny family.” She stifled a laugh. “There’s one in the cemetery where my brother is buried that has the name and dates, and it says ‘Beloved husband of the woman who was right about the motorcycle.’”

Cam nearly dropped the drill. “Oh my God, I can’t decide if that’s the best or worst thing I’ve heard all day.”

“You could almost say something like that for Isaac, so I don’t know why I think it’s funny, but I do. I suppose you’ve got to lean into whatever helps you cope, right?”

His breath caught in his throat, and he coughed. “Sorry,” he wheezed. “The dust. Hand me that brush, please.” He cleared off the stone and the work area and whisked a pile of soapstone dust into his hand. “I should’ve had the vacuum on.”

“It’s okay.”

“A motorcycle?”

“A boat.”

He dusted off his hands and waited. When she didn’t speak for five seconds, he knew she wasn’t going to. “With my brother, it was SIDS when we were about four months old. I didn’t even know I had a brother until I was about ten. I never had a sense of him or a feeling like someone was haunting my birthday parties. Everyone in my family knew, obviously, all my grandparents and aunts and uncles, and none of them told me because my folks said not to. They thought I’d ask difficult questions and be sad. To this day, I don’t know how I feel about the way my folks handled that with me. ”

Cam blew out a long breath. “I wonder what it would be like to have another one of me. Whether we’d be alike or different. We were identical, so I do know he’d be a gorgeous hunk with killer biceps,” he deadpanned.

Avery spun to face him, smiling. “I’m glad I had my brother for fifteen years, at least. I remind myself to be grateful. I can’t fathom a parent’s side of this, so I try not to judge my mom and dad, but come on. They had two kids still here who needed them, and just kind of looked the other way.”

“I’m sorry, Avery.” He pushed up his goggles. “Crap. Can you grab my glasses out of that open drawer? You’re a blur.”

When she pressed them into his hand, her fingertips brushed his palm. He curled his fingers to touch hers as she pulled her hand away. When he looked up with his glasses on, she was staring.

“I’ve never seen you without your glasses before. I’ve never seen you without a hat or a helmet, either. That could be downright scandalous.”

“Nah. I’ve got a bald spot under this thing.”

“I think you’re smuggling drugs.”