Grinding (Portland Icehawks #6)

12. Irresponsible

Chapter Twelve

IRRESPONSIBLE

~~Inez~~

I stare in horror as Camden marches toward Trace with purpose in his stride. I don’t hesitate. I’m out of my car and running up the short sidewalk after Camden.

“We need to talk, Trace,” Camden growls. His menacing anger stops me in my tracks. I’ve never seen him like this. He means business, but Trace is a wild card.

Shelby’s husband spins around, and a slow, predatory smirk crosses his face. He gestures for his cowed wife to go inside. She moves back several feet, places a shaking hand on the door, but doesn’t retreat any farther.

Clearly, Camden has seen all he needs to see. He moves to stand toe-to-toe with this jerk, invades his personal space, and uses his extra couple inches in height to his advantage. Trace is forced to raise his head to look him in the eye, and I’m certain he hates that.

“What the fuck do you want?” Trace sneers, but a slight change in his tone indicates he’s more worried than he appears.

Camden’s body language makes it crystal clear he’s itching to wipe the smirk off the asshole’s face. His fingers curl into fists, and his face is as hard and as coldly uncompromising as ice on a winter pond in Minnesota.

“Camden.” I advance until I’m a few steps away and issue a warning, but he ignores me. I’m torn between intervening and watching the show. So far, nothing’s really happened to intervene, yet I think we’re coming to that.

“Stay out of this, Inez.” Camden tosses a warning glare over his shoulder. I stand back, but I’m ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. I have pepper spray in my car and debate going back for it. This confrontation could all be over in seconds, so I don’t have the time.

“Yeah, Inez, stay out of this. Let your boyfriend handle it.” Trace’s condescending tone almost sends me through the roof. I’m so angry it takes a few moments to process that he’s called Camden my boyfriend. Now isn’t the time to dispute what he’s said. It’d only draw attention to his words. Camden must be thinking the same thing, as he doesn’t dispute it either.

I glance toward the doorway. Shelby is fretting and visibly frightened. I turn back to the two men, who’re sizing each other up.

I’m shaking with anger. The fear on Shelby’s face is enough to make me want to kick the hell out of Trace myself, but I’m certain Camden can do a way better job of that. I’m a strong-willed woman, but I’m smart enough to know that I won’t win in a physical confrontation with a larger man.

“Get the fuck off my sidewalk.” Trace belligerently leans into Camden, who doesn’t budge. It’ll take more than a threatening stance to make a pro hockey player back down. They’re trained to be aggressive and nail the competition when necessary. While Camden’s never been much of a fighter on the ice, I’ve seen a few occasions, tonight being one, where he’s convincingly defended his teammates.

I’ve no doubt that in a fair fight, he can handle himself. But if these two come to blows, will the fight be fair? An image of Trace pulling out a knife or a pistol rushes to the forefront.

Only then do I realize I’m gripping my phone in my hand. I look down and press the buttons for 911. I leave the display up so I can press the green button immediately if needed.

“Your sidewalk? Do you own this house, or do you rent it? If you own it, you might want to do some maintenance before it falls down.”

“Fuck you.” Shelby’s husband stiffens, and I hold my breath. Camden is purposely antagonizing him, which seems out of character for such an easygoing guy.

“No thanks,” Camden snorts, infuriating his opponent even more. Trace is a bully, and bullies hate to be confronted by someone who is their equal or better. They prefer to terrorize those weaker than them.

“I’m bored with this. I have better things to do than watch you pretend to be a big man.”

If Trace plans on his words inciting Camden to throw the first punch, he doesn’t know Cam very well. I’ve heard he’s got a long fuse, but when it reaches the end, watch the hell out.

“I’m not interested in wasting time with the likes of you either. So let me make this short and sweet.”

“About time, fucker.”

Camden’s hand snakes out, and he wraps his fingers around the collar of Trace’s shirt. “Let me put this in simple terms so you can understand. If I see evidence you’ve harmed Shelby in any way, I won’t be the only one coming after you. And they’ll never find the body.”

I cringe at his harsh words, while I’m cheering at the same time. He’s playing with fire and taking a calculated risk that the bully will back down when confronted by someone as physically strong if not stronger than him.

“Are you threatening me?” While Trace appears unimpressed, there’s a slight waver in his voice that gives him away.

“No, just offering some friendly advice.” Camden tightens his hold on Trace’s collar until the guy is gasping for breath. I’m about to move forward to stop this when Camden releases him.

Trace staggers a few steps forward and bends over at the waist, trying to catch his breath. Camden watches with disinterest while Shelby appears appalled. I’m not sure what I am.

Suddenly with the quickness of a big cat, Trace straightens and sucker punches his adversary. Camden doesn’t see it coming and staggers back a few steps before charging toward Trace. He barrels into him and slams him to the ground. The two men tussle, but their punches aren’t landing.

I’m frozen to my spot before I finally wake from my stupor and join the fray. I grab Camden by the arm and pull.

“Stop it! Stop it! Both of you. Stop!” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs. Shelby races toward us and tries to pull Trace away. A couple teenage boys passing by notice the fracas and get involved. Finally, we have the two men on their feet and pried apart.

“I’m warning you. If you take this out on her, you’ll pay for it.” Camden’s shaking with fury.

The teenage boys’ eyes grow big at his threats and imposing stature. The good news is that they don’t recognize Camden as an Icehawk. A quick glance around determines no one else is in the area.

Shelby fawns over Trace, checking to make sure he’s okay as she worries about his well-being. The man doesn’t deserve her concern. Disgust curls inside me as I flash back to my mom defending my father when he didn’t deserve it, just as Shelby is doing now.

“Thanks, guys,” I say to the teenagers.

“Not a problem. It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to us all night.” The kid fist bumps his friend.

“Later.” And they’re gone.

“Let’s go.” I curl my fingers around Camden’s arm and pull. He reluctantly allows me to guide him back to the car. He keeps glancing over his shoulder as I drag him away from that potentially explosive situation.

Once safely inside, I note that Shelby and Trace are nowhere to be seen.

I turn to Camden as the realization sets in. This could’ve been catastrophic for both of us, especially if the press got wind of it.

“What were you thinking confronting him like that?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” Camden rubbed his cheek. It’s clear he’s going to have a nice shiner by tomorrow.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m a hockey player. I’ve been punched by far better fighters than that wuss.”

“You do realize you dodged a bullet back there. Those kids didn’t recognize you, and I doubt Trace will take any action since he threw the first punch.” I’m relieved we won’t be all over social media by morning. The incident wouldn’t be good for Camden’s career, let alone mine.

“Yeah, I know, but the second I saw that guy coming toward Shelby, I knew he was going to beat the shit out of her once he had her inside.”

“I saw that too, but do you really believe your threats got anywhere with him?”

Camden shakes his head wearily. “I doubt it.” He turns to me with a stricken look on his face. “Did I make it worse for her?”

“Possibly, but you did what you thought was the right thing. I can’t fault you for that.” In fact, I’m secretly swooning over this man who jumped in to help without any thought of his own safety. It’s sexy as hell, and I’m even more drawn to him.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” He smiles as I pull the car away from the curb.

“It’s beyond frustrating because I want to fix Shelby and get her away from him, but I can’t because she won’t go. In my experience, things don’t end well for women who stay with abusive men.”

“I know. I feel as powerless as you.”

“She’s like an alcoholic who refuses help.”

“Until she hits rock bottom.”

“And what does rock bottom look like for her? I shudder to think of the possibilities.”

“It’s a disturbing thought, and not a damn thing we can do to prevent whatever’s going to happen.”

“Other than give her a lifeline if and when she needs it.”

We fall quiet. Each of us lost in our own thoughts. Suddenly, going home alone to my small apartment doesn’t appeal to me in the least. Inviting Camden into my place would be the worst idea, but being alone is even more unbearable.

“Want a nightcap?” I hear myself ask, and immediately hope he turns me down.

“Sure.” He’s looking out the passenger window, and I can’t see his face.

“I can put some ice on that eye also.” Inside, I’m in a panic. What the fuck am I doing? Resisting this guy is difficult enough without being alone in my apartment with him.

Camden turned to study me in the dash light. “What’s our story when guys ask how I got a black eye? I can’t tell them the truth.”

“How about a half truth?”

“As in?” He cocks his head in the most adorable manner, and my foolish heart leaps into his arms.

“Tell them that a guy was harassing a woman, and you intervened.”

“I can do that. I’ll also say you should see the other guy. I have to maintain my rep as a pro hockey player. I do wish I’d gotten one good punch in.” He chuckles and melts a portion of the tension between us.

“Me, too. Is that awful to say?”

“Probably, but guys like him don’t deserve our empathy.”

“No, they don’t.” I pull into an empty space near my unit. Camden is out in a flash and opens my door for me.

“Thank you.” I’m surprised and flattered by the chivalry. I’m an independent woman who doesn’t appreciate such gestures and considers them condescending, but not with him. I fear I’m falling for this guy, but I can’t. The results would be disastrous for both of us.

We’re barreling down a road on a collision course with destiny. It’s a head-on accident we see coming yet can’t stop. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want to stop despite how damaging a relationship with a player would be to my career.

And what is it exactly I don’t want to stop? Sleeping with him? Having a relationship? Getting attached? I’d have to say all of the above.

It’s been a long time since I’ve met a guy who does the things he does to me with just one glance. I’m not a romantic person. I’m pragmatic, practical, and logical. Emotions have never ruled my decisions until now. This man is standing behind me, and I can feel him as if he were physically touching me. I’ve always prided myself on my control. I’m the one who can be depended upon to be the designated driver. I’m the voice of reason. I’m the one who prides herself on acting on logic rather that reacting on emotion.

I guess everyone comes to a moment in their lives when their personal guardrails no longer function as expected. I have to find a way to strengthen them.

I put the key in my door and hesitate. Once we go inside, there’s no turning back, or is there? I guess it depends on what happens and how well I hold to my convictions.

I give myself a pep talk. I control my destiny, and I don’t have to give in to desire. Neither does Camden. We can have a friendly conversation, and that’s where it must end.

“Is something wrong?” Camden asks from over my shoulder. A sliver of excitement reverberates through me. I hold my breath for a moment and utter a silent vow to remain resolute in my convictions.

“No, nothing.”

His question prods me into action. I open the door, and he follows me inside. I go straight to the small kitchen. “Is wine okay?”

“Got any beer?” He leans against my counter looking every bit the buff hockey player. His size dwarfs my small apartment, only I don’t find his presence intimidating. More like comforting.

“I think so.” I search through the fridge and pull out a beer. “Will this work?”

“Yeah, great.” He takes it, pops the top, and draws a long pull. I watch as if his drinking a beer is the sexiest thing in the world. Here’s the deal—it actually is.

I pour myself a glass of wine while musing about how unwise it is to get buzzed around him. My practical side has gone to bed for the night, and my naughty side wants to do the same, only not alone.

Camden sits at one of the counter stools. I stay in the kitchen to keep a barrier safely between us.

“To winning.” He holds up his beer bottle, and we tap our drinks together.

“To winning.” I grin at him. “And to more points.”

“Here, here.” His grin is huge. I’ve never seen him so relaxed and happy, despite the inevitable black eye. Remembering why I invited him inside, I grab an ice pack from the freezer and wrap it in a towel. I hand it to him. He holds it over his eye while watching me with the other.

We talk about the night’s events from the game to Aria and Drakos to the incident with Trace. All in all, it’s been eventful. The conversation is safe, and I relax a little, letting down my guard.

“And now you’re stuck with an interview with Aria.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I’m not looking forward to it, but I’m trying to win her over rather than alienating her and making things worse. Her needling of Drakos has him on the edge.”

“Tell me about it.” He chuckles, and we clink drinks together again. I meet his gaze and almost fall under his spell but glance away quickly.

“We can’t afford to lose him to a suspension.” I steer myself back to my concern over Drakos.

“No, we can’t.” Camden finishes his beer and sets it on the counter, while watching me with one eye. “I probably should be going.”

Yes, he should, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.

His expression is expectant, as if he’s waiting for me to make the next move. I don’t. I force myself to do nothing. Even when he skirts the counter and brushes past me to deposit his bottle in the recycling under the sink, I don’t move, even though my body reacts.

Every part of me is hyperaware of this man’s aura of quiet strength. In the past, I’ve gravitated to men who exude toxic masculinity, which is odd considering how strong-willed and conflict-averse I am.

Camden turns in the tiny kitchen and bumps into me. I stare up at him, and every single conviction I’ve had disappears as if it never existed.

I’m completely, absolutely bereft of any remaining common sense. We both freeze for a long moment. Then as if drawn in by an invisible force, we close the short distance between us. I do nothing to halt what happens next. In fact, I welcome it, as irresponsible as that might be.