Chapter 13 Camden
CAMDEN
Although, this is the first weekend I’ll be away.
With the regular season kicking off, I’ll be out of state basically two weekends every month, and Nadine will be sleeping at my place while I’m gone.
Including the nights before home games, when the team all stays in a local hotel to make sure we’re in peak form for the game.
And I try desperately not to picture what she sleeps in.
I’m hoping it’s a full-on onesie so she’s covered from neck to toes.
It’s the only option that doesn’t give me a semi when I think of it.
After the team’s walk-through today, we had a short meeting to go over some last-minute details for our trip, then Coach Roberts sent us home with instructions to get a good night’s sleep and that he’d see us tomorrow to board the bus, which would take us to the airport to fly us to Kansas City.
We lost our first game to Dallas last weekend, and while I played well, I was still basically treated like the enemy even though we were on our home turf.
One guy even threw his beer on me as I walked into the tunnel after the game.
I’ve been working on visualizations with Pearce to help keep me grounded, so I visualized ripping that fucking guy’s head off.
Not doing so earned a couple of backslaps from teammates, and the ones who still held on to some anger from last season seemed to let it go after that incident.
Because, I suppose, it’s one thing for me to be booed, but it’s another to take a can to the head without a helmet.
I open up the door to my apartment to blaring music, “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” coming from a speaker in the kitchen, where Paisley and Nadine dance in front of the stove, something cooking that smells delicious.
I quietly set my bag down and kick off my sneakers so my socked feet don’t make a sound as I cross the hardwood floor, sneaking onto a stool at the counter, their backs to me.
Nadine signs something to Paisley that I don’t catch, but it’s clearly a direction to grate some fresh Parmesan cheese over the pot, and when she struggles to, Nadine helps, showing my sister how before going back to bopping around, hips swaying, using a big spoon as a microphone to sing terribly off-key to Paisley, who laughs at her antics.
“Voilà!” Nadine says and signs. “Nice work. See how easy it was to make this? Once you make it enough, you’ll remember all the ingredients and how much.
” She slides her arm around Paisley, gives her a quick squeeze, and then signs, “You get the plates, and I’ll get the drinks.
” That’s when she swings around and notices me, jumping in place. “Oh my god!”
She lowers the music as I wave my hand. “No, please, continue. I was enjoying the show.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever witnessed Nadine blush, and it’s cute. Even if she tries to cover it up. “You’re a creep. How long have you been here?”
Paisley pivots around too, smiling in my direction, signing, “I made dinner.”
“Smells great,” I say and sign then look to Nadine. “I’ve been here long enough to know you are a genuinely terrible singer.”
“Your sister doesn’t think so.”
When I shoot Nadine a bland look, she asks my sister, “Should we allow him to eat with us?”
Paisley plays it up, tilting her head side to side, but eventually gives in, signing, “I guess.”
“So nice of you both.”
I help them scoop out servings of the butternut squash and rigatoni as Paisley explains how Nadine loves to cook, and that she promised they’d make a new meal together every week.
“It’s a life skill everyone should have.
” Nadine sits opposite me at the dining room table that I’ve never used.
Until now. “This one is so easy, even you can make it.”
I ignore the jibe and dig into the meal. It’s delicious. “I have a chef so I don’t have to cook.”
“But do you really enjoy all those reheated meals? Putting everything in the microwave?”
I shrug. “It’s easy, and it’s not like I have a lot of time on my hands to make something like this.”
“I can make this for you again,” Paisley volunteers, though she reconsiders with a wince, her hands dropping so low, I almost can’t see her signing behind the edge of the table. “If you like it, I mean.”
“I love it,” I tell her, and she grins proudly.
And I am so proud.
Only a few weeks ago, she was miserable, would barely come out of her room or meet my eyes, and now she’s talking and having fun. She’s happy.
We chat for a while about Paisley’s classes and the friends she’s made.
Nadine chimes in that she thinks she’s going to sign up to volunteer at the school, which has Paisley wiggling like a puppy.
Then after the girls have ice cream for dessert, and I swallow down a protein shake, we all clean up together.
Like some quaint little family.
I used to get itchy thinking about kids. Didn’t like the idea of settling down. Couldn’t imagine wanting to come home instead of going out. Except I look forward to opening my door now. I enjoy being here with my sister. With Nadine.
Paisley heads to the living room, letting the guinea pigs out to make a mess of the cream rug with all of the hay and blueberries she sets in a line, hoping they’ll follow it. They don’t.
Nadine watches, leaning in close to me, murmuring, “She’s been trying to train them, but…”
My sister lies on her stomach, clicking her tongue, holding out a blueberry in her hand, but neither one of the little guys comes to her. Instead, they share a piece of hay, munching on it like the spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp.
An elbow digs into my side. “Admit it. You think they’re cute.”
I refuse to give in to the twitch of my lips. “They’re pointless. They can’t do tricks. You can’t take them for a walk.”
“Technically, that’s not true. They have itty-bitty leashes you can buy. There’s nothing stopping you from taking Jelly and Bean down Broad Street.”
“Rocky and Balboa,” I correct, and she gasps quietly, moving to stand in front of me, head tilted up, amusement shining in her eyes.
“You gave them new names. You love them.”
“I like them,” I grumble, and Nadine whacks at my chest.
“You big softy.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
She winks theatrically, and my heart thumps behind my rib cage. I find myself back in a ballroom five years ago, a beautiful woman in an ice-blue dress that matches her eyes floating toward me. Shaking my hand. Smiling shyly.
And then turning right around to call me a prick.
“What happened?” I ask, hands shoved into my pockets so she doesn’t see how tightly they’re curled into fists. “That night of Erik and Molly’s engagement party. What happened?”
She doesn’t need any more explanation. Her face slowly falls, the playful smile I’ve become so familiar with slipping, along with her shoulders. Those eyes—the ones that have haunted me since that night—cloud as her chin dips. Still, she doesn’t answer.
“Tell me what happened. Tell me what I did. Aside from…everything.”
She stays quiet, brushing by me, but I catch her wrist. “I need to know. Because when I first saw you… We were… We had…” I shake my head, trying to make sense of my jumbled thoughts. “What did I do to make you hate me?”
She lifts a shoulder, tugging her hand out of my hold, and it feels like all the goodwill we built up between us over the summer is gone.
“Nadine,” I say, bending to close the distance between us, my voice completely unfamiliar when I plead, “Please, talk to me.”
She inhales audibly, angling her gaze away from me. “Why do you care all of a sudden?”
I don’t know.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly unable to be in my home and not see her in every corner. I can’t help the innate sense of rightness when I’m around her. Like a light has turned on after I’ve been sitting in the dark for my whole life.
“Because I’d like to know how we got so…lost.”
And why it’s taken so long for me to find my way back to her.
“I heard you talking,” she murmurs. “You were with your teammates.”
“Talking about you?” I guess, and she nods, but I can’t remember anything much about that night besides her.
Besides the deep-seated fire that came roaring to life and then was immediately snuffed out.
I think that’s why I’ve been so willing to spar with her all these years, hoping it would spark another fire.
“One of them said something about me.”
“What? What did they say?” The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Did they insult her? I will kill them. Whoever it is.
“Nothing much. Alluded to…possibly being attracted to me.”
I slowly lean back, doing my best to remember. None of this rings a bell. “Okay?”
“You…” She trails off, scuffing her heel against the floor.
“What? What did I do?”
She takes a breath and spits it out all at once. “You kind of warned him—all of them—away from me and Emmaline. Said it would be better if everyone left us alone because we were Erik’s sisters.”
I nod. Yes, that makes sense. Plus, I wanted Nadine for myself. None of those other douchebags.
“You told them I was a teacher, and when one of them made a joke about me fucking like one—”
“Oh.” It hits me like a ton of bricks. It was Donaldson. He had a problem keeping his dick in his pants and ended up retiring early after some sexual assault allegations popped up. I believed them, and he deserved to be in a jail cell, instead of enjoying a quiet life somewhere in Michigan.
“He asked if you’d ever had a fantasy about fucking one of your teachers,” Nadine starts.
“And I said not ones who look like her,” I finish, and she nods, eyes cast down. But it still doesn’t make sense. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
That makes her lift her gaze, an angry divot between her brows. “Why would I? You humiliated me.”
“Humiliated you? How?”
She tosses her hands out. “By making fun of me. By even participating in that conversation, basically talking about me like I was a piece of meat.”
“No.” I slice my hand through the air. “I shut that conversation down. I wasn’t going to let anyone talk about you like that.”
She scoffs. “You didn’t shut anything down. You played into it.”
I tunnel my fingers into my hair, not knowing what to do. It’s like we heard two different conversations that night. “I didn’t. I didn’t want anyone talking about you or to you because I wanted you.”
“I didn’t—what?” She cants her head back, whatever argument she had dying on her tongue. “What?”
“I said I never had a fantasy about fucking one of my teachers because I never had one who looked like you.”
Her eyes dart back and forth between mine, as if working to translate my words, make some sense of them. “You… That’s not…”
“Is that all you heard? Because after that, I told them you were completely off-limits.” Looking back now, I don’t know what I was going to do, play some kind of long game? Telling everyone to back off because eventually I’d make a move? I don’t know, but it was all overturned anyway.
“I was trying to stick up for you, in my own stupid way, I guess. But I swear I wasn’t aiming to put you down. When I saw you that night, I thought you were stunning. Took my breath away.”
Her jaw works, but nothing comes out for a long time.
And when she finally does speak, it’s not what I expect.
“Your sister started making bracelets. She made one for her best friend and me.” She holds up her left hand, where a colorful woven bracelet winds around her wrist. “She made one for you too. You better wear it, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree, my voice barely audible.
Nadine licks her lips, takes a deep breath, and then spins away from me, saying, “I’ve got to get home. Pack a bag. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She practically sprints out, and I’m left staring at the spot she stood moments before, a myriad of emotions crossing her features: hurt, shock, denial, and most interesting of all, something that looked a lot like satisfaction.
Since I can’t dissect the female brain—especially one like Nadine’s—I make my way over to Paisley. She has Rocky in her arms, and I stroke my index finger over his head.
“Where’s Nadine?” she signs.
“Had to run out. She said you made me a bracelet.”
My sister hands me the guinea pig to scurry away, and I ask the—truthfully—cute thing, “You like the name Rocky better, don’t you? Yeah, I’m sure you do.”
His tiny nose scrunches, and I bring him to my chest as my sister rounds the couch again. “Here,” she signs, then holds out the bracelet, maroon and gray thread braided together. “For good luck.”
I hold up my hand so she can tie it around my wrist.
We win against Kansas City.