Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Adalyn

My pajamas weren’t here.

Josie had come while Cameron was in practice with the team. He hadn’t been joking, she’d shown up at Cameron’s door with a box in her arms. It contained all my things.

I didn’t fight her. I didn’t think I had any energy or willpower for that. My conversation with Cameron had left me… raw.

And as much as I thought I still hadn’t done anything to earn Josie’s kindness, I wanted it. So I let her fuss over me and be a little mad for not saying anything about the state I’d been living in. The horrible cottage.

Josie had called me silly and proud, and then she’d stuffed my mouth with cake and demanded I stop being so stubborn. I wondered if Cameron and Josie had ganged up on me or if I really had been so complicated to deal with.

Probably both.

With a sigh, I plucked the clean L.A. Stars jersey from the dryer, shed the robe, and put it on. I’d have to sleep in this, although at least now I’d be wearing underwear underneath. I slipped my arms back into the soft and cozy robe and brought the edges over my chest. I wondered if Cameron wore this around the house. Maybe right out of bed. Or maybe while he lounged around the place. What did he wear underneath? His sleeping clothes? Or was he one of those men who slept in his underwear? An image of him in nothing but boxers assaulted me, bringing heat to my skin. I thought back to the other morning. His bare chest. The indent of his hips. The ink on his thigh. I wished I could have gotten a closer look. I…

A knock on the door of the laundry room startled me right out of those dangerous, dangerous thoughts. When I turned, it was none other than the man I had just been picturing almost naked in my head.

Cameron stood tall under the doorframe, in workout clothes and with his hair a little wet. I wondered if it was raining or if practice had been that intense.

We stared at each other, and there was something passing between us. I could tell. The last time we’d talked I’d said some things that should have probably remained thoughts. He was looking at me like that again. And it made my chest hurt with… something that felt a lot like longing.

I cleared my throat. “How was practice?”

The corners of his lips twitched at my question. “The girls made you a get well soon card.”

A spot in my chest warmed. “That’s so nice of them,” I admitted. Genuinely. But then… “I hope María didn’t bully them into signing it.”

His expression turned rock solid. “No.”

I opened the robe at the chest. “I already have this on.”

The green in Cameron’s eyes changed. “That’s…” He trailed off with a strange breath. He frowned. “That’s perfect. You’re heading to bed?”

Cameron stalked in my direction, and in two determined strides he was in front of me. The scent of him hit me right in the chest. Clean, woodsy, a hint of sweat. My stomach dropped with awareness. My heart sped up. “I’m damp and sweaty,” he said, his words falling on my temple. “But I’d really like to carry you to the couch. Can I?”

I stared up at him, caught off guard by his question. The urge to lift my hand and reach for those dark locks of wet hair overwhelmed me.

In a heartbeat, his arms were moving around me and he was picking me up. My cheek fell onto his chest. Cameron smelled like rain. Hard work. I closed my eyes. “I could get used to this.”

I felt more than heard the sound that made his rib cage vibrate, and in what felt like not enough time, we were in the living room and he was depositing me onto the couch. His arms remained around my body for a moment longer than necessary, making me open my eyes.

I forced myself to speak, to drive my attention away from the face that was hovering too close. “Josie left mashed potatoes and a chicken casserole in the fridge,” I said, my voice coming out all wrong. “I’ll—”

His hand fell on my thigh, warm and heavy and solid. I looked down, wishing the thick fabric of the robe wasn’t there. “Let me,” Cameron said. And when I didn’t complain, he stood up. His eyes went up and down my body. “I’m starving.”

My stomach did a weird thing. “Me, too.”

And with that, he disappeared behind the couch.

By the time we were done with dinner, my heart was doing funny things in my chest.

It was the domesticity of it all. The way he’d brought me a brimming plate of food. The fact that he’d set a glass of water and my painkillers on the coffee table, right in front of me. The way we were sitting on the couch, his thigh so close to my propped-up feet I could feel his body heat on my toes. Me, in a robe, and Cameron, in a sweatshirt I wanted to slip my hands under to see just how much it warmed his skin. Was he wearing a T-shirt underneath? I didn’t think he was.

I didn’t think I wanted to know the answer to the question bouncing off the walls of my mind either. Was this—this, right here—what the normalcy of being in a relationship looked like? Was this what a getaway in the mountains with your partner felt like? We’d even brought the cats.

The thought—the possibility—made me giddy, excited, curious. But it also made me incredibly sad. It made me grieve for what I never had. It made me long for more. And that was a dangerous thought. A scary one, too.

I sat up with a jolt, and Willow, who had been curled against my side, complained. “Sorry,” I blurted out. “But I can’t do this.” I sprint-hopped away from the couch. “Where is it?”

Cameron was up on his feet immediately, but he must have seen the shift, the need for space, something to do, because he didn’t come after me. He just watched. “Darling?”

Darling. It didn’t bother me anymore, I decided. No. I loved hearing that. “My binder. The red one. Have you seen it?” I explained, reaching the kitchen. Making sure I stayed balanced on one leg, I started throwing drawers open. Utensils. Foil and wrapping papers. Candles. “You have candles. Tea lights. Also scented ones. Why?”

I shoved it closed. “Because I love scented candles and you’re… I don’t know. You’re a man. English.” One I wasn’t supposed to find more attractive just by the simple fact that he had a drawer filled with candles.

I moved to the next one, finding only baking utensils. Did he bake, too? I threw it closed. “It makes it all worse.”

God he was being so calm, so patient, as if I wasn’t psycho-raiding his kitchen for a binder. I twisted my body, my gaze falling on a console by the entrance of the kitchen. “Ha,” I said, limping my way over there. I snatched it, hopped back to the coach, and shoved it into his chest. “We’ve got work to do. I can’t sit here and… vacation. This is not a weekend getaway.”

Cameron held the binder to his chest and then, in some maneuver I didn’t have time to anticipate or understand, his hand was wrapping around my wrist and we were plopping down on the couch.

I gaped at him as he sat there, preoccupied with the one thing he’d despised so much in the past. He threw it open and started to browse through it, as if he was searching for something. He was doing all of that one handed while… His thumb slipped under the sleeve of my robe, making me notice his palm was wrapped around the wrist he’d pulled at. Still.

I cleared my throat. “There’re three games ahead: Fairhill, Yellow Springs, and New Mount. There’s…” His thumb moved, swiping left and right. “The girls need the points. So far they’ve lost and tied. They need to win the next three games. If they don’t…” Cameron shifted, leaning back and dragging me with him somehow. “If they don’t, they won’t even play for third or fourth place. I have—” I stopped myself. Before Saturday I’d been in conversation with a few local media outlets but hadn’t closed on anything. And now… I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring any press here. “I have a success story to sell to Miami. The Green Warriors need to win the Six Hills.”

Cameron’s tongue peeked out and wetted his lips. “Okay,” he said, setting the binder in the small space between us. He released my wrist and planted his hand on my thigh. “Pick a kid.” His fingers splayed. “Or a team we’re up against.”

My eyes widened with horror, or heat, I wasn’t sure, when that simple touch zapped up my legs. “Okay?” I snatched the binder and busied myself with it. “No comment about the binder of hell? No peek at the very detailed section I have on you?” I stared, gawked really, at Cameron, as his expression turned pensive, but… relaxed. “Why are you not complaining and looking exasperated? Why are you not storming out of here because I’m difficult?”

He does. He does what? And why is he still so calm? “So? Are you done with that, too? Because a sprained ankle is not going to stop me. It’s not a war injury as much you’re treating it like one.”

Cameron released my knee, and just as I thought he was going to stand up or call me out on the attitude he didn’t deserve, he set his palm on the side of my head.