10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Cameron
I slump onto the couch, my muscles protesting after today's practice. It's brutal, but it's done. Now, there's only one thing on my mind: Holly. I can't shake her from my thoughts, no matter how hard I try.
My gaze drifts to the window. I could walk across the hall. I could knock. But will she be there? And if she is, will she even open the door? The silence between us lately feels like a wall I don't know how to climb over.
"Man, you look like hell," I mutter to myself, knowing the mirror would agree I it could.
I rub a hand over my face, the stubble scratching my palm. We laid everything bare at that away game. We're all in. She knew it, accepted it. We were good, moving forward. At least, that's what I thought.
"Dammit, Holly," I whisper, wishing she understood.
I stand up, pacing. Three steps forward. Two steps back. The distance to her door might as well be miles. My phone rests heavily in my pocket, tempting me. I want to text her, call her, show up with flowers or some other kind of grand gesture. But what if she's pulling away for good?
We were solid, unbreakable. Or so I believed. Each moment without her chips away at my resolve. But I won’t let it crumble. Not yet. I need to see her, hear her voice. I need to know we're still a team.
"Hey Cam, what's left in the fridge? I'm starving," Deacon calls out, his voice a low rumble from the hallway.
"Check for yourself," I reply, not taking my eyes off the door. Holly's silence is eating at me, and I'm seconds away from making the decision to go knock on her door when a sharp knock cuts through the tension.
"Got it," Jaxon says, swaggering to the door with that cocky confidence that only he can pull off. He swings it open, and bam! His head snaps back, a solid punch landing square on his jaw.
"Jaxon!" I shout, bolting up from the couch.
"Son of a…" Jaxon stumbles back, clutching his face. Sawyer Hawthorne storms in like a hurricane, fury blazing in his hazel eyes.
"You're dead!" Sawyer yells, lunging at Jaxon again.
"Whoa, hey!" Deacon and I leap into the fray, trying to wrestle Sawyer back. But the guy's a raging bull, all muscle and anger, barely noticing as we struggle to hold him.
"She’s my sister, you bastards!" Sawyer keeps shouting, veins popping in his neck. "How could you?"
"Stop, Sawyer! Calm down!" I try to reason with him, but it's like talking to a brick wall. His fists are still flying, aiming for Jaxon, who's trying to shield his face.
"Easy, man!" Deacon grunts, his arms wrapped around Sawyer's waist. "Let's talk this out."
"Talk?" Sawyer spits the word out like venom. "After what you did with Holly? You were all fucking my sister!"
"Sawyer, I can expl—" Jaxon starts, but another wild swing from Sawyer cuts him off.
"Damn it, Sawyer! Just stop and talk to us!" I'm shouting now, my own frustration mounting. We need to calm him down before someone gets seriously hurt.
The sound of a door slamming makes us all freeze. Holly's standing there, her hand still on the frame like she's keeping herself upright with its help. Shock paints her face. She looks haunted.
"What the hell, Sawyer?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it slices through the chaos.
I can't help myself; I drink her in. But then I notice that she's pale, almost ghostly, and it kills me.
"Nothing," I say, but it's a weak attempt. "Just working out some stuff."
"Working out some stuff?" Sawyer spits out, his eyes wild as he tries to free himself from Deacon's hold. "This—"
"Enough, Sawyer!" Jaxon barks, his back against the wall, his face twisted with frustration and something else. Something raw.
"Tell me what you were thinking, huh?" Sawyer snarls, his gaze fixed on Jaxon. "The three of you! With my sister! My sister, Jaxon! You’re supposed to be my best fucking friend."
Sawyer lunges for him again. Deacon and I surge forward, trying to get between them. Jaxon's eyes flicker over to Holly, and there's a beat, a single heartbeat, where everything hangs in the balance. Then it spills out of him, heavy and sure.
"I love her."
It's like someone sucked all the air out of the room. Silence, thick and heavy, settles on us.
"Jax..." Holly says the word like a breath, like a prayer that tugs at something deep in my chest.
"You love her?" Sawyer echoes, disbelief etching his features, the fight draining out of him like water from a pierced can.
"I love her." Jaxon's voice is a broken hush, but it carries, filling the space between us, binding and shattering us all at once.
"Wow," Deacon murmurs, and I nod because, yeah. Wow.
I step forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Holly," I start, my voice barely above a whisper but strong with the weight of what I'm about to say.
Jaxon's on my left, his tattooed arms crossed, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. Deacon's right beside me, quiet but his presence is like a comforting rock I can lean on.
"I love you, too," I say, and it feels like I'm shedding years of walls I've built around myself. "We're in this together—if you want us."
"Completely," Deacon adds, his voice low.
"Every damn part of me is yours if you'll have it," Jaxon says, his dimple showing despite the tension in the room.
Sawyer slumps down, the fierceness melting off him as he presses a towel against his eye. He looks up at Holly, his jaw working like he's chewing on glass.
"Tell them," he grinds out.
"Tell us what?" My mind races through a million scenarios, none of them good. Holly shakes her head, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo.
"It's not your business," she insists, her voice trembling.
"Tell. Them." Sawyer's voice is no longer a command; it's a plea.
My stomach drops. Tell us what?
The silence in the room hangs heavy like a wet jersey. Sawyer's glare pins Holly to the spot. He's waiting, we're all waiting.
Holly's eyes meet mine, those big blue pools of worry and something else—fear? She bites her lip, a nervous habit that I've come to find endearing. But now, it only twists my gut tighter.
"I, um," she starts, voice so soft it's nearly swallowed up by the tension surrounding us.
"What is it, Hol?" It's Jaxon's turn to coax her, his hand reaching out but not quite touching her.
My mind is reeling. I’m cycling through every worst-case scenario as the seconds stretch out. She’s found someone else? She’s leaving? What?
She takes a deep breath, and I swear I can hear her heart pounding from where I stand. Then she lets the breath out, along with words that hit me harder than any slapshot.
"I'm pregnant."