Chapter 2 #2
“It was fine. It was totally fine. But it might not have been. And I’ve never felt like that before. Not once. Not ever. And it freaked me out. Reminded me that I was . . .you know, really far from home. Away from everything I’ve ever known.”
“Yeah.” Shane’s voice was heavy. “That would be a lot to deal with.”
“I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I keep thinking, every time I go out, what could’ve happened, you know? And I don’t like it. I don’t want to worry.”
“I don’t want you to either.” His dad’s voice was so gentle. “That sucks. But every big city’s gonna have dicey moments like that, you know? You grew up in a small community. Knew every person. Even when you went to school, I bet you never even worried about it. Never even thought about it.”
“I didn’t,” Cam admitted. “Not until it was almost too late.”
“Hey, listen to what you’re saying, okay? Almost too late. Almost. It didn’t happen. And now you’re aware.”
Cam swallowed hard, still trying to tamp down the embarrassment wiggling through his stomach like worms. He’d never been ashamed to tell his dad something before, but he’d hidden this for months now.
“Yeah,” Cam said.
Not just from Shane—but from his teammates too, because the thought of telling them was even worse than confiding in his dad. They already thought he was too young and too naive. Imagine if they knew just how stupid he really was.
It made him seem so weak and useless. He was strong, sure, a professional athlete, but what good would that have done against a whole pack of guys?
“Let me guess,” his dad said, “you haven’t told anyone about this.”
“No shit,” Cam said dryly.
Shane hummed under his breath.
“They already think I’m some kind of gullible country idiot,” Cam grumbled.
“What do they think about you not ever leaving your place?”
“I leave my place,” Cam argued. “I told you. I have to.”
“So they haven’t noticed?” His dad’s tone had gone arch, knowing.
“A few comments, but not like . . .” Cam didn’t say, I’m good at hiding it, but he was.
His dad hummed again, like he didn’t quite believe him—but it was the truth.
And didn’t that suck even more than the fact Cameron’s breath went short and fast whenever he had to leave his bitty apartment.
If a group was going out, he’d go out with them.
It was easy to hide in a group. But he didn’t go out alone anymore, and since Dawson was pretty occupied with his own shit, and Joey, the other guy who made the third leg of their special teams triumvirate, had a family—a wife and three kids—Cam had been sort of on his own. A lot.
The rest of the team was wrapped up in their own problems on and off the field.
Aidan was trying to get the offense to gel—working harder than he should’ve behind an offensive line that was still struggling to protect him.
Trevor was a rookie, too, but he was constantly revolving around his older stepbrother, Lane.
Their running back, Jaden, had been a rookie last year, but from the first time Cam had met him, he’d seemed ages and ages removed from where Cam was.
Nate was kind, but he had his hands full with the defense.
There were a few rookies there, too, but Nate had taken them under his wing, and it hadn’t really seemed like there was room for Cam there.
Everyone believed that someone else was looking out for Cameron, and he hated to correct their misassumption, because that would mean admitting to shit he barely even felt comfortable admitting to himself.
“You need to get out,” Shane said bluntly.
Cam considered arguing, even though he knew his dad was right.
“Okay,” he finally said.
“I mean it,” his dad reiterated. “Go to the grocery store.”
“Alright,” Cam said. He could do that. Well, next week, anyway. He’d already gotten his meal plan service delivery this morning, and like absolute fucking magic, his groceries at his door, this afternoon.
“Cam, I mean it,” his dad said warningly.
“I mean, I will, just not today. I’ve got everything I need for the week.”
“Cam,” Shane repeated, same tone of voice.
“What? I don’t need anything,” Cam argued.
“What you need is to get out of that goddamn apartment.” He could hear his dad pacing in their living room, boots clicking against the worn hardwood. “You could go get dinner somewhere.”
“Alone?” The word escaped from Cam’s mouth before he could snatch it back.
His dad sighed. “Okay, how about this—there’s that exercise center in the basement, right?”
“Yes,” Cam said hesitantly. He didn’t want to go work out.
“And it has a swimming pool, right?”
He had a feeling he knew where his dad was going.
And as expected, Shane said, “You should go down there for a bit. Swim around. Try to relax. It’s safe there, even if you’re on your own. You need a keycard to get into your building. It’ll be good for you to get out of your apartment and it’ll be a good first step.”
Cam thought it made him sound a little pathetic—that he needed the reminder that his building was safe—but it wasn’t a terrible idea.
“It’s not a bad idea,” he said.
“Cameron Alexander Greene,” his dad said, exasperated. He didn’t need to say, stop fucking around and just say you’ll do it, because he heard it, anyway. Message received.
“Fine, fine, I’ll go,” Cam said, pulling himself off the couch.
“One more thing,” Shane asked casually. “You meet anyone yet?”
Cam wasn’t sure if this was more or less embarrassing than admitting to his dad that he’d gotten freaked out by how big of a city Toronto was. “You know the answer to that.”
“Even someone . . .uh . . .temporary?”
“God, Dad,” Cam said, his cheeks flaming bright red. “No. And even if I did, I wouldn’t want to talk about it with you.”
“You said it was one of the reasons you wanted a bigger city,” his dad reminded him. “It would be easier to uh . . .um . . .what is it you said? Hook up?”
“God,” Cam repeated. “Please never say that again, okay?”
He reminded himself how lucky he was that his dad had always been unflinchingly supportive of his sexuality, even if being gay in small town, Montana, wasn’t full of its own challenges.
“Well, I want to know how you’re doing! How else am I supposed to know if I don’t ask?” Shane didn’t have to say, because you’re not going to volunteer anything, not like you used to.
“The answer is no. But I’m sure I’ll get there. Like comfortable enough to download an app and actually follow through or even go to a gay bar.”
“Uh. Yeah. Good.”
“Can we not talk about this anymore?” Cam begged as he headed towards his bedroom to change into his swim trunks.
“I’m good with that,” his dad said, chuckling self-consciously. “Not because I don’t approve! Or because I think it’s wrong or disgusting or—”
“Please,” Cam pleaded. “I don’t think that. I promise.”
“Okay, good.”
“Yes, you’re the most supportive. Nobody’s ever taking your ally crown away.”
“Thank goodness,” Shane said dryly. “You have fun, okay? Text me when you’re back.”
“Dad,” Cam warned.
“Not because I think you’ll be unsafe! Or because I’m worried. Just because . . .just because, alright?”
Cameron smiled. It was hard not to. He loved his dad, and his dad loved him. “Alright.”
A second later, he hung up, and after putting his phone on the charger by his bed, pulled out his swim trunks and an old T-shirt. He changed, shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers, and grabbed a towel from the narrow linen closet on the way out the door.
The elevator ride down to the basement level with its fitness center and pool was quiet. It was late afternoon on a Monday—too early for anyone to be coming home from their corporate jobs.
There were a handful of people in the fitness center, on the treadmills and ellipticals, a smaller group spread out among the weight machines. Cam headed right to the sign that identified the entrance to the swimming pool, bypassing the locker room.
When he pushed it open, he wasn’t surprised to see it empty.
Well, almost empty.
There was a single figure on the far end, sitting on the edge of the pool, head down and feet dangling in the water.
After pulling off his T-shirt and shucking his shoes, Cam stole another look at the guy, taking in the messy dark hair—all that was visible—and then realized a second later that he recognized that messy dark hair.
And the shoulders.
And the thighs.
It was Dawson.
Cam swallowed hard.
He’d known, in a very abstract way, that Dawson was living in his building. He’d made a hesitant comment about it, early on just after winning the punter job right out of training camp, and Dawson had brushed him off.
That had kind of sucked, for sure. But he’d begun to understand more, the more time he’d spent around Dawson—almost exclusively on the field, but that was okay, because it had given him a perspective on how much shit was currently balancing on those broad shoulders.
Proving that he was still the future Hall of Fame kicker. Dealing with his divorce. Fighting to get his money back from his snake of a father-in-law.
Cam hesitated, wondering if he should go over there.
Then Dawson lifted his head, and those bright hazel eyes met Cam’s.
Shit. There was no pretending he hadn’t seen him now. No grabbing his stuff and retreating.
Dawson tilted his head, saying without a single word that Cam should come over.
This was definitely not what he’d thought would happen. Cam thought he’d come down here, maybe have to avoid a knot of kids, or an older retiree swimming laps. Or he’d have the pool all to himself.
“Hey,” he said hesitantly as he approached Dawson.
He had the same thought he always did when faced with the guy—God, he’s hot—and then he pushed it right down, because Dawson’s hotness was not important.