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Trevor
“How’ve you been, man?” I ask, going for casual like my heart isn’t still giving me the Shake Weight treatment, and I wasn’t just lying here asking myself again if I’d made a monumental mistake coming back.
God, he looks good.
Like some kind of aquatic god with lake water running in rivulets from his hair. Poseidon… if he were twenty-two and wearing a criminally hot, thigh-cut Speedo with a pair of clear goggles clutched in his fist.
He also looks a little confused, like he might have been expecting me to say something else. But what are you supposed to say to the first guy who blew your mind and changed your life forever… then told you goodbye?
No idea, man.
But I try again, because he’s here. Swimming right out of my damn thoughts.
And self-destructive or not, I don’t want him to go.
“Heard you’re still working with your dad.” Yeah, I might have asked when I realized he’d left the party while I was letting Laura down in private. “You happy?”
He takes a beat and then relaxes into the question, leaning back on those straight, powerful arms.
“Yeah, I am. To both questions. I actually spent two years at the U and then moved to an online program when my dad needed surgery.”
“Oh damn, how’s he doing?”
“It took him a while to get up to speed after, but he’s good now, thanks. And he’s got a shiny new hip out of it that we’re hoping will last him through the back nine.”
There’s no bitterness in the way Cam says it, so I mean it when I tell him I’m glad to hear it.
I know he’s close to his dad. Four years ago, protecting that relationship meant more to him than the freedom to be who he was. And, judging from the tone of his voice, there aren’t any hard feelings.
No regrets. Not from his side anyway.
Me?
Hell, I’m just trying not to notice the moonlight contouring the lines of Cam’s well-defined body in shades of silver and blue. Or how low his suit sits on his hips. How being this close to him settles something inside me, even while it turns so many other things upside down.
But Cam made it clear before I left, there wasn’t room for us in his life. And as far as I can tell, he’s good with how things have turned out.
So what am I doing here, practically begging this guy who just accidentally swam back into my life to stay a few more minutes?
I might have an idea, but before I can think too much about it, he juts his chin at me.
“I’ve gotta ask. What brings you back here?”
Makes sense he’d want to know. It’s not like my roots run deep. We only lived here about five years, and while they were good ones, when I left to play hockey, Mom and Tammy followed.
“When I was playing in Springfield, I didn’t really mind sticking around during the off-season. I had friends, a roommate.” A relationship. “But uh… when I started getting called up”— I shake my head, hating that I still feel it in my chest — “There was some jealousy. Lost some friends over it.”
“Trev, I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “Roommate was one of them. And until I know for sure where I’ll be starting the season— Chicago or Springfield —doesn’t make sense to find another place down south just yet.”
“Crazy life,” he mutters, staring out at the lake.
I nod. “Guess I had a lot of good memories here. One night last month, my sister found Finch on Facebook, and everything kind of came together from there.”
“So you might be playing for Chicago now?” He turns, square jaw resting on his shoulder. “Like a permanent thing?”
