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Gail must notice I’ve checked out and says, “Forget all that.” Only, if I think I’m getting sprung from talk of my love life, I’m wrong. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find a happily ever after right here in your hometown.”
She juts her chin toward the front door, and I nearly choke.
Because that’s Cam Dorsey holding it open. And holy hell, he looks good.
But once my brain slingshots back from taking inventory of the shoulders that somehow look even broader than they did when he was captain of the swim team, and the chest so built it ought to come with a hard hat warning… I realize Gail isn’t pointing to Cam at all.
She’s pointing to Laura Jansen, and the ridiculous flutter of nerves in my gut shifts into something uneasy.
“Laura’s back, huh?” She was one of the few people I kept in touch with when I left. Or rather she kept in touch with me for a while.
“Uh-huh. And a little birdie told me she’s excited to see you too.”
Excited?
Laura is a great person. A sweetheart. I should be pumped to see her.
But there’s a history between us. A will-they, won’t-they past I was hoping four years apart would close the book on. But the gleam in Gail’s eyes tells me she’s hoping for a reunion on par with Bennifer 2.0, and that is not happening.
I look back to the door where Laura’s giving Cam a big hug. Both are smiling wide.
It shouldn’t make me jealous. It’s nuts to be jealous, but seeing those two so natural and easy together when it won’t be that way with me— for either of them —sucks.
Especially since one of them is the reason nothing happened with the other.
“Geez, stare any harder?” Gail sings as Mary nods enthusiastically beside her. “Trust me, there’s nothing between Laura and Cam. I know you’ve been gone a while, but—”
“Gulls, man, no way!” a gruff voice bellows, catching the attention of most of the party. One of the guys from the hockey team, I think, but my focus is still riveted to the front door. To the former state champ with the still-damp hair, standing inches taller than anyone in the place.
Cam’s head snaps up, his brows buckling as our eyes meet across the room. And yeah, that look is not screaming happy to see me. Figured he wouldn’t be. I’m the asshole who knows his secret. But then he knows mine too.
Still stings.
Before I can even acknowledge him, a couple burly, inked-up arms wrap around me from behind, hoisting me off my feet. “Gulls!”
“There’s only one fucker big enough to throw me around.” I laugh past my constricted lungs.
“Just sweepin’ you off your feet, Princess.” Chase Caminski guffaws, setting me back on the ground and then hauling me into a bear hug.
“Chase, good to see you, man.” The guy’s been working construction and somehow managed to double in muscle mass over the past four years. “What the hell has Sandy been feeding you?”
I intentionally use his mother’s first name, falling back on the teasing we used to give him about his being the hottest mom on the hockey team. “She still talk about me much?”
Rubbing a hand over his grin, he gives me a slow shake of his ash blond head. If we were sharing ice, I’d have all but guaranteed myself a trip into the boards for that one. Worth it, though.
We catch up a while, me doing my damnedest not to let on that I’m tracking a certain swimmer’s every step, smile, and interaction. Waiting to see if he’s tracking me.
Spoiler alert: he’s not.
More guys from the team get in on the conversation. And damn, I’m surprised how much it feels like coming home.
Of course, Wildren isn’t home.
It’s a town I left years ago. It’s nice to visit. But there’s no going back to what this place was to me. Or even what it might have been.
Chase is still giving me a play-by-play of the Wildren high hockey highlights from last season when a head of light curls ducks under my arm and I’m caught in the feminine squeeze of Laura’s hold.
“Trevor, what in the world!”
