Chapter 14
Cam thought he and Dawson were being fairly circumspect.
Sure, there’d been the day after in the locker room, when Nate had teased him about all the marks Dawson had littered over his skin.
Nate hadn’t known who’d left them, but by the time they’d left the practice facility at the end of the day, it seemed like most of the guys suspected who it was that Cam had hooked up with.
Still, they weren’t flirting or touching or being anywhere close to what Cam would call obvious. Not around their teammates. Dawson had told Aidan—and Mo, because he’d been there, at their dinner—but that was only because Aidan had been surprisingly worried about Cam.
Still, Cam thought they’d been pretty chill about what they were doing.
At least he thought that until Nate cornered them after the walkthrough, Gatorade bottle in one big hand, and said, “So, when’s the wedding date?”
Cam froze, but Dawson froze worse.
If Cam looked at their defensive captain and thought, I wonder if I could kill him with my mind, he decided that nobody could blame him. He and Dawson weren’t dating, and on top of that, Dawson had just gotten out of a bad marriage, topped off by an even worse divorce.
“What the fuck,” Dawson said pleasantly, after he unfroze.
Nate shrugged unrepentantly and rolled his Gatorade between two big hands. “You two just seem particularly . . .close recently.”
Dawson had been very firm upfront about defining what this thing was between them, but then had proceeded to act like he’d never said anything at all.
Cam was half-expecting to hear Dawson knock on his door later and stay the night in his hotel room bed, because it wasn’t like they’d spent almost any nights apart since the first one they’d shared.
But Cam was not interested in calling any of this mixed messaging out, especially not in front of Dawson.
That was a surefire way to freak him out.
And if Dawson freaked out, he would probably stop, and God, Cam really didn’t want to stop.
Dawson frowned. “I don’t know if that’s true.”
But it was true. Cam didn’t need Dawson to confirm it, because he was living it.
Obviously if given a choice, he was going to choose both doing it and talking about doing it, but he was happy enough to settle for just doing it.
“Come on, you’re practically glued together.” Nate glanced over at where Aidan and Levi were standing next to each other. They weren’t touching, but they didn’t have to be for it to be obvious they belonged together. The message Nate was sending was clear enough.
This, Cam decided, had gone far enough. “Not really,” he said.
Nate squinted. “I don’t mean right now, I mean like you’re always fucking together. And then there was Cam’s hookup—”
“Dude, be chill,” Cam interrupted. “It’s cool.” He slid a sideways glance at Dawson, who looked torn between looking offended and freaking out.
“Yeah, it’s not all that serious,” Dawson said, sounding like he meant it.
Sounding like he hadn’t spent the last week in Cam’s bed. Even when they weren’t having sex. Cam might’ve been offended by Dawson’s words, but then he knew the truth.
He knew where Dawson was spending his nights. Tucked right up next to Cam, like he couldn’t stay away.
“Yeah, it’s good,” Cam said. Better than anything I’ve ever had.
“So what, you’re just fucking?” Nate laughed under his breath, a little bitterly. “Okay, sure.”
Dawson surprised Cam then. “You okay, Bishop? Not like you to angst about what everyone else is up to. Don’t tell me you’re taking lessons from Aidan these days.”
“No,” Nate said, frowning. “It’s . . .”
“I’m sure you’ve heard of a hookup,” Dawson said, patting Nate on the arm. “And if you haven’t, I’m sure there’s someone out there who might be willing to educate you.”
“Maybe Ramsey?” Cam asked, pasting an innocent expression on his face.
And yep, there it was. Nate went a dark brick red.
“That guy,” he muttered. “Fuck no. I wouldn’t touch him if he paid me to. Besides, some of us want someone to be there in the morning.”
Dawson barely blinked, and that was the funniest part of all, because he was always there in the mornings.
Soft and sweet and leaning up against Cam, hands warm from a mug of coffee, pressing a kiss to Cam’s neck, like he was saying without words, thank you for being here, thank you for being you, thank you for everything you do.
If Cam kept getting that version of Dawson, he was hardly in the position to even want more.
“Sure,” Dawson said casually. “That’s called being a friend.”
Dawson was not stupid, and Cam could fully admit to having a soft spot for the guy a mile wide—a crush and maybe even more, now that Dawson was in his bed and he was in Dawson’s—but he could be very stupid sometimes.
Right now was one of those times. But Cam wasn’t going to correct him.
“Oh yeah, right. Totally,” Cam agreed, shooting Dawson an approving grin.
Nate rolled his eyes. “And you wondered why I asked to begin with,” he muttered.
Cam would’ve known why he asked, but only if Nate was somehow creeping around their building, watching them while they were alone together.
“I’m sure there’s a guy out there for you,” Dawson said, and Cam elbowed him in the side. First off, Nate wasn’t that off the mark, and second off, the guy was clearly fucked up about Ramsey, and it wasn’t nice to be patronizing about it.
“Be nice,” Cam admonished.
“What?” Dawson squawked. “I was being supportive.”
“So was I,” Nate countered. “Making sure you know that if something was going on, it would be cool.”
“Well, thanks,” Dawson said. “If something happens, we’ll keep that in mind.”
His phone rang, and Dawson pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the screen.
“It’s my lawyer. I gotta take this,” he said.
Shot Cam a look. “See you later?” he said, in a way that made it crystal clear that the later wouldn’t be tomorrow, at breakfast, but later tonight, when he came to Cam’s room.
Dawson was out of earshot when Nate turned his attention back to Cam and raised an eyebrow. “If something was going on?”
Cam knew he’d realized what was up, but it was still hard to explain it. Especially to Nate, who was intimidating at the best of times.
“He’s just . . .the divorce and all,” Cam stammered.
Nate’s expression turned sympathetic. “He’s not fucking around with you, is he?”
“Not in the way you think. He’s not using me or anything.
Or if he is, I’m using him right back—” Cam broke off, deciding he was doing an absolute shit job of explaining any of this.
“He says it’s just a hookup, but he’s treating me like .
. .like a . . .” He didn’t want to say it, but it was hard not to at least think it. He’s treating me like a boyfriend.
Cam wondered if he’d need to actually say it for Nate to get it but his expression made it clear that he’d filled in enough of the blanks himself.
“Don’t let him get away with that shit,” Nate said.
“Why not?” It was fine. It was more than fine. It didn’t matter what Dawson wanted to call it. Only that he kept wanting to do it.
“Listen, the guy’s been through it, sure, but you’re a good kid.”
Cam made a face.
“No, I mean that in the best possible way,” Nate said hurriedly. “A good guy. He’s clearly fucked up from his whole . . .” He waved his hand around. Marriage. Divorce. Theft victim. Self-implosion.
“Yeah,” Cam agreed. “Which is why I’m not gonna worry about what he’s saying. Only what he’s doing.”
Nate didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, that seems like a bad idea.”
But how could it be a bad idea when it felt so damn good?
“Not so far,” Cam argued.
Nate just sighed. Patted him on the shoulder. “When—and I’m not saying if, but when—you need me to kick his ass, you just have to say the word, okay?”
“What? You don’t need to ever kick his ass,” Cam argued. Yes, maybe Dawson was acting a little clueless right now, but he’d been through a lot. He was allowed to be confused.
“Aidan was right,” was all Nate said.
“What about?” Cam asked, even though he was afraid that whatever Aidan had said about him was not exactly flattering. Sure, Aidan had been worried about him, but only because he was apparently convinced that Cam couldn’t handle his own shit.
But Cam could. Cam was. He was good. So fucking good. How could he be anything else when Dawson was coming to his room later?
Nate didn’t answer the question though. Just patted him again. “Just make sure you’re safe, rook,” was all he said.
Cam watched him go, confused as hell and more than a little offended. He was twenty-two. He didn’t need to be lectured on how to have safe sex.
Dawson felt a little bad about leaving Cam to Nate’s well-meaning but completely incorrect assumptions.
But he’d read the plea deal that Simon had sent over and hadn’t been thrilled by what it had laid out, in black and white.
Barely any punishment at all. There was a part of Dawson that wanted to talk to the prosecutor directly, but he hadn’t pulled that lever yet.
Simon, his lawyer, had inferred and then straight up told Dawson that it was better if he was the go-between between Dawson and the prosecutor. But if Dawson was going to seriously consider putting his stamp of approval on this kind of plea deal, then he wanted to talk to the guy in charge.
Maybe Simon would have more information on how he could contact the prosecutor directly. Some advice on how to make that meeting happen. He’d probably have to convince Simon, but at one point, Dawson had been a fairly persuasive guy. Maybe he could dredge those skills up again.
“Hey, Simon,” Dawson said.
“Sorry to call the night before a game,” Simon said. “Hopefully it’s not too late. I didn’t check where you were at.”
“It’s earlier, ’cause we’re in Indy,” Dawson said. “Besides, not even curfew yet.”