Chapter 20 #3
Dawson made an outraged noise. “I—that’s ridiculous, coming from you.”
“Is it though?” Aidan asked smugly. “I’m just saying, I knew my boyfriend’s parents forever. Long before we started dating. I got this in the bag. You’re still trying to figure out where the bag even is.”
“I hate you,” Dawson complained.
Aidan patted him on the shoulder. “The truth hurts, bud.”
Dawson made a face. He knew he was going to have to say something, but right now, he needed to put this problem from his mind and find his focus.
Sure, this was a different issue than what had potentially distracted him last week, when he’d missed that long kick, but he wasn’t willing to take a chance, either.
However he was going to deal with this situation would have to happen after the game was over.
Maybe the crap with Ackerman was difficult, with no easy fixes to be found, but he had to believe that he and Cam could figure out how to coexist, in a relationship, with Shane around.
But Dawson shouldn’t have worried about tonight’s game.
The offense, which had been stymied last week by the Bills’ suffocating defense, didn’t have issues at all with the Jets.
“Thank God they traded Sauce away,” Mo mentioned during halftime. He was up to a season high 125 yards receiving, with two touchdowns already, with nobody on the Jets able to cover him, once they’d traded away their best corner in Sauce Gardner.
Dawson had kicked three extra points and a single thirty-four-yard field goal, which the Thunder had only settled for because Acker had had a holding penalty and they’d run out of chances to get the first down.
Robertson had felt good going into half with a twenty-four-to-three lead, and nobody could really blame him.
But of course that meant that Dawson had barely had any reason to push himself. He was partly annoyed, partly relieved.
“I’ve only punted once,” Cam said to him as they sat in front of their lockers.
“A killer punt though, rook,” Dawson pointed out with a smile. “And hey, are you actually bitching about that?”
“No, just . . .I’d rather do something,” Cam said. “And it’s not like I didn’t hear you complaining to Marty about three extra points and one . . .what was it? One measly thirty-four-yard field goal?”
“Practically an extra point,” Dawson said.
“Exactly,” Cam said, chuckling under his breath.
“I just want a chance to prove I can do it,” Dawson said, leaning in so only Cam could hear him. “I wanna prove to everyone I’m not that guy who missed last week.”
“You mean the guy who missed a fifty-nine-yard field goal? That was right on the edge of his range? Yeah. Okay.” Cam’s knee nudged his. “Stop being such an overachiever, Daws. Nobody thinks you need to prove anything.”
But maybe it wasn’t about proving something to everyone, and more about proving it to himself.
He didn’t want to need that reassurance, but there was a deep-down part of him that was screaming for it.
That kept reminding him that when he’d let the team down last season, it had cost him the rest of what he’d had. And this season, somehow, he had even more to lose.
But the second half didn’t deliver on the opportunities Dawson was hoping for. He kicked another extra point, when Aidan hit Lane on a sweet buttonhook route, and he took it fifty yards to the end zone.
After that, the Thunder offense, up thirty-one to three, took a relatively conservative approach.
It meant that Dawson spent the rest of the game riding the bench, watching as Jaden, the Thunder’s running back, took chunks out of the tired Jets’ defense, and Cam kicked several more deep punts. Pinning the Jets’ offense inside the ten, twice. More than earning his money.
It was a solid win, a complete team victory—offense, defense, and special teams combining to prove, in a primetime game, just how dangerous the Thunder was going to be this year.
Dawson was not surprised when Aidan announced in the midst of the raucous celebration in the locker room that everyone was coming out to Vault tonight, to revel in the team’s first half of the season success.
He was surprised when Cam shuffled over to him, outside the locker room, and unlike what he’d expected Cam to say—that he was skipping to spend the time with his dad—that apparently Aidan was insisting that not only Cam show up but that he bring Shane, too.
“He’s our good luck charm, apparently,” Cam said with a shrug. But he was smiling at Daws, like he was pleased he didn’t have a reason to bail. “I even reminded him that he only showed up after the last game, and he pointed out that we lost that game. Our only loss of the season.”
It was a little silly—typical Aidan superstition—but Dawson wasn’t going to argue with it, because he wanted Cam to come tonight. He’d missed him with an ache he hadn’t imagined could be possible. Even better that Aidan had figured out a way to make sure Cam brought his dad, too.
Maybe Dawson could figure out a way to talk to him. Try to bridge this weird distance that had fallen between him and Cam. Make sure Cam knew that Dawson thought Shane was cool.
“I’m not gonna argue with it. Unless you want to argue with Aidan,” Dawson said wryly.
“No way,” Cam said.
“You were fucking awesome tonight, rook,” Dawson said, slinging an arm around him and squeezing Cam against his body. He could see Shane making his way down the tunnel, and maybe a few days ago, he’d have removed his arm. Not forced Shane to witness their PDA.
But Dawson had missed him so much he wasn’t willing to do it. Not anymore.
“Thanks.” Cam tilted his head down towards Dawson’s and, to Dawson’s delight, leaned in a little closer, even though Shane had now joined them.
Cam only detached briefly, to give his dad a hug, and then he went right back to Dawson as he said, “Hey, Dad, you up for going out?”
“Sure,” he said. “You coming too, Dawson?”
“Planning on it,” Dawson said casually, even though a catastrophe would have to dislodge him from Cam’s side, after what felt like days apart.
“Good.” And the little nod of approval Shane gave him then told him that if someone was trying to keep them apart, it wasn’t him.
Which left only one person, and Dawson was determined to get to the bottom of why Cam would be pulling that crap.