Chapter 4
It had been a long day. Cameron was tired, in a way he wasn’t always on Tuesdays.
The repetitive field goal practice had taken it out of him, and he hadn’t even been the guy making kick after kick, like a machine that didn’t even know how to miss.
He was nearly to his car, the sun setting behind the players’ parking lot, when a voice stopped him.
“Hey, wait up.”
Cam turned, surprised at the voice and the guy it belonged to.
He couldn’t remember the last time Dawson had gone out of his way to spend so much time together during a workday.
Even after yesterday, running into each other at the pool, he hadn’t expected this.
He figured you out. He saw right through you. Knows exactly what fears are going through your head.
But even if that was true, Cam hadn’t gotten even the tiniest hint that Dawson judged him for it.
“What’s up?” Cam asked, slowing to a stop a dozen yards from his truck.
“Shit.” Dawson exhaled hard, putting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m gonna regret that tomorrow.”
“Probably.” Cam shouldn’t be endeared but he was. For a split second, he wondered if Daws was going to ask him to do something else he’d regret in the morning.
“Come on,” Dawson said, gesturing towards his SUV. “Get in.”
Oh God, was he?
“What? Uh. How?” He wasn’t proud of how his voice stuttered, but how was he supposed to keep it level?
Dawson rolled his eyes. “We’re going to dinner, rook. You good with that?”
“Like uh . . .” He could not make his mouth form the word date, but he was thinking it.
Dawson just laughed. “Rook, you’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Uh.” Apparently that was all the vocabulary he had left.
“So neither of us sit in our empty apartments, alright? Isn’t that a good enough reason?” Dawson’s voice was teasing. “You okay with that?”
Cam swallowed hard. “Yeah. For sure. Sounds good. But my truck—”
“Oh jeez, rook. I’ll give you a lift in the morning. We’re coming from the same place. Why are we both driving through this ass Toronto traffic, anyway?”
“Not sure,” Cam said, feeling like his throat was strangling him.
“Well, are you gonna come or not?”
Cam barely stopped his jaw from dropping. “To dinner?” he questioned.
“Yes, to dinner,” Dawson said with exasperation.
Cam nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we can go to dinner.”
He followed Dawson to where he’d parked. New car smell spilled out as he opened the door.
“I don’t suppose you have any ideas on where to go,” Dawson said as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Me? Uh, no. Not really.” Cam was afraid that exposed his ugly habit of hiding in his apartment. But it was also the truth, and it seemed like Dawson might’ve guessed anyway. Hadn’t he just said, so we don’t sit in our empty apartments?
That was as good as calling Cam out for what he’d been doing.
“Me either,” Dawson confessed. “But Aidan sent me a list of suggestions, and I thought we’d start at the top of the list.”
They stopped at a red light and Dawson pulled his phone out of his pocket, and clicked something, hooking it up to the car’s Bluetooth.
“How do you feel about Thai?”
“Thai food?”
Dawson shot him a look as they hit the freeway. “Yes?”
“Um, yeah. I like Thai.” He wasn’t really that familiar with it.
Had enjoyed Thai a few times, sure, but someone else had ordered for him.
Since coming to Toronto, he’d gotten Chinese food a few times, because that was familiar enough, since there was a small authentic Chinese restaurant in his hometown.
But Thai felt like a step farther, and he never knew what he’d like—or what he should order.
Maybe it would be okay to admit that to Dawson though.
“Rook, if you want something else, we go someplace else,” he said simply. Like it really was no big deal.
“No, no, we can go to Thai. I just . . .” God, to admit how uncultured he was was embarrassing. “I just don’t have a lot of experience with Thai food.”
There. He’d gotten it out.
Dawson hummed under his breath. Glanced over, zero judgment in his expression. “Not a lot of call for Thai food in Montana?”
“I mean, I’m sure they have it in Missoula or Billings.
Bozeman, for sure. But I’m from Phillipsburg, which definitely doesn’t.
There was probably one in Helena, where I went to school, but by then .
. .” Cam trailed off. He’d said it, sure, but he didn’t really want to expound on his naivety or his fear surrounding it.
“You didn’t want to expose yourself as some hick?” Dawson asked kindly.
“Uh, yeah. Exactly.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I was a good ol’ farm boy from Iowa,” Dawson said wryly. “A long time ago, but that kid definitely existed, and he was at least as embarrassing as you. Probably more, because he acted like he did know everything, even though he knew fuck all.”
“I didn’t know that,” Cam said. “But you went to Michigan, yeah?”
Dawson chuckled. “Yeah, my old man is still bent about that.”
“Still?”
“There’s not much to get pissed about in Iowa.” Dawson paused. “Though he’s plenty pissed off these days, and that has nothing to do with Iowa.”
Cam never knew whether it was acceptable—or allowed—to mention Dawson’s divorce or the case against his father-in-law.
“About the um . . .thing?”
Dawson laughed louder this time. “Jeez, rook, you can at least say it. Yeah. He’s pissed as hell about what happened. Don’t know who he’s angrier at. Brynn or her dad or the Ravens. Take your pick, honestly. I keep having to talk him down from flying out here and start throwing punches.”
“That’s sweet, actually,” Cam said. His dad would do the same thing. Maybe not the punches part, but the flying-out part. If he thought Cam was struggling, he’d be here in Toronto in a minute.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy. I should spend more time with him, but you know, the season . . .”
“Yeah.” Cam nodded. “It’s hard. I miss my dad.”
“Just your dad?” Dawson slid him a sideways glance.
“Yeah. Mom died young—I was only eight.”
“Shit, that sucks,” Dawson said.
It had. But his dad had been so great, always, he’d missed her, of course, but he hadn’t really felt the lack of love in his life.
“It’s alright, honestly. We’re just close. I worry about him out there, all alone.”
“Phillipsburg is small, huh?” Dawson turned down a side street and pulled the SUV into an empty spot on the curb.
“Oh yeah. Fucking tiny.” Cam shut the door behind him. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood at all, but his pulse still thumped unevenly as he took in the very metropolitan trappings around them.
“Toronto must be a real wake-up call,” Dawson said casually, but he was watching Cam intently—Cam could feel his gaze on him—as they walked down the sidewalk.
“Sure,” Cam said.
“Cam,” Dawson said, nudging him. “Don’t front with me. It’s okay to be a little—or a lot—freaked out.”
“I’m not.” But he was. But telling his dad the truth was so much different from telling the hot guy he was trying to impress at his brand-new job.
“Uh-huh.” Dawson didn’t look convinced as he stopped in front of an unassuming storefront. “I think this is it.”
“You’re gonna order for me, right?” Cam asked apprehensively as they walked inside.
They grabbed a table and Dawson pulled one of the plastic laminated menus from behind the napkin holder. “What?” he questioned.
“I don’t know what I’d like . . .” Cam trailed off.
“So, figure it out,” Dawson said. He put his elbows down on the table and leaned in. “You’re never gonna do that if I do all your hard work for you.”
“Ugh, I don’t like you,” Cameron complained.
“False accusations,” Dawson said, laughing. “All lies.”
Cam harrumphed, and even though he was apprehensive, pulled out a menu of his own. The foreign words made him slightly apprehensive, but for idiots like him, there were pictures of some of the dishes, and he was in the middle of analyzing them when he felt a touch on his hand.
Glancing up, he realized Dawson was touching him, concern written across his expression.
“If you’re really . . .” Dawson trailed off. “I’m happy to give you some pointers, if you want.”
“What did you just say about doing all my work for me?” Cam asked archly, realizing suddenly that he wasn’t sure he wanted or needed Dawson to order for him. Maybe he wasn’t experienced but that didn’t mean he was incapable of figuring it out.
And if he ordered something he hated? Well, he’d order something else and send the leftovers home with Dawson. That guy was a human dumpster. He’d eat just about anything; watching him eat over the last few months had proven that.
“True. Well, the offer stands.”
“What are you gonna get?”
“Probably the green curry—that’s spicy, so be careful if you don’t like heat—and probably an order of the fried rice. And um, maybe also these beef satay skewers with the peanut sauce. Aidan’s text said specifically not to sleep on those.”
“Hungry?” Cam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“And it’s good leftovers. When I get home after practice, sometimes the last thing I wanna do is figure out what to eat. I’ve got the meal service shit, sure, but ugh, that’s just so . . .well, you have it too, so you know how it is.”
“Cardboard masquerading as food?”
Dawson gave him a commiserating look. “Exactly.”
“Didn’t you—your—” Cam stopped abruptly, realizing he didn’t know what Dawson’s ex-wife’s name was. Didn’t know if he should really be bringing her up at all, even though he had earlier and it had been okay. But this was different. More personal.
“Didn’t Brynn feed me?” Dawson laughed, a little bitterly. “Sure. But she was shit in the kitchen, too, so it wasn’t really a big difference when she moved out.”
Cameron stared at the menu. “I’m sorry,” he said, even though that seemed like a sentiment that wasn’t nearly heartfelt enough. But what else could he even say?