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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 so 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, 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?”
Wouldn’t that be nice. “Not quite. Training camp plays into things. But it sounds like management liked how I played while Boomer was on IR. Enough that my agent’s saying they might want to try me for a couple games in Chicago, just to see. Doesn’t mean I’ll stay there.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t,” he says, like he knows something I don’t.
“True. Still. Lots of question marks.” And no end to them in sight.
Cam takes a deep breath. Even in the darkness, there’s something thoughtful in the slope of his shoulders and angle of his head. “It’s got to be rough having so much uncertainty.”
“Yeah, but I get to play.” Damn, I need to stop staring. “And that makes it worth it.”
A smile. “Ah… the trade-offs.”
“Always, right?” I expect him to chime in with a hearty agreement, because if anyone should get it, I imagine it’s him.
“Sorry about your friends, man. Sounds like you’re better off without them. But even so, that’s bullshit and it’s gotta suck.”
I laugh. “That it does.”
In ways I’m afraid to talk to even him about.
Instead, I ask about our friends from high school, wanting to hear the same updates I already got at the party, but in his words. His rich voice. I ask about the store and school and swimming, which is now water polo for him. I ask the polite questions old friends ask, skimming the moonlit surface between our lives without delving into the inky waters below.
Without telling him the things that really matter to me or asking him the same. Things like whether he’s found love or if he ever thought about me the way I’ve thought about him. Because I don’t want to risk crossing a line with Cam that might make him shut me out again.
We end up laughing about the time Randy Harris smuggled his new puppy into school and how all the teams came together to hide him.
“Football, band, chess, and debate.” He’s got that one arched-brow thing going, and combined with his crooked smile, it’s taking everything I’ve got not to lean in and touch him. “Hockey, newspaper, and swimming. I don’t even know who coordinated the effort, but we had that puppy daycare running out of the west bathroom for the better part of a week.”
“Pretty sure we got busted on day three. Sylvia Cortez was allergic and had to go to the nurse with asthma and hives.”
