Chapter 12 #3
At one point, I was struggling to add a tower that kept collapsing under its own weight. Cam moved behind me, his chest warm against my back as he reached around to help stabilize the structure.
"Like this," he said softly, his breath tickling my ear. "We need to pack it tighter at the base."
His hands covered mine, guiding my movements as we formed the sand.
Every cell in my body was aware of his proximity, the solid warmth of his bare chest against my bare back, the scent of sun and salt and something, I don’t know, like uniquely him.
Time seemed to slow, the sounds of the beach fading as my focus narrowed to the points where our bodies connected.
Deep breath.
"Perfect," he murmured as the tower finally held. He didn't pull away immediately, and I didn't move either, caught in a moment that felt both peaceful and charged with unspoken possibility.
A pointed throat-clearing broke the spell. I looked up to find Zayne watching us, his expression a complicated mix of suspicion and concern. Cam stepped back, turning his attention to Tyler's request for help with the drawbridge, but the moment lingered like a drunk at closing time.
When Emma and Tyler ran off to collect more shells for decoration, Zayne approached, ostensibly to check on our progress.
"Looking good," he said, nodding at our creation. "Kiddos seem to be having fun."
"They're great," Cam replied. "Emma's got a real eye for design."
Zayne nodded, then fixed me with a look that immediately set off warning bells. "Lana, can you help me grab more water?"
It was obviously a pretext, but I couldn't refuse without making a scene. I followed him to the water's edge, where he filled one of the buckets while keeping his voice low.
"Subtle, buddy." I teased.
"You're not faking anymore, are you?"
The directness of his question caught me off guard. "What are you talking about?" I stalled.
"Don't bullshit me, Lana." His voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the concern underneath.
"I've known you your entire life. This thing with Cam; it's not just for show.
" His eyes, so like our father's, missed nothing.
"The way you’re looking at him – that's real.
And the way he looks at you… well, I've never seen him look at anyone like that, and I've known the dude a helluva long time. "
"We're just playing our parts," I insisted, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears. "We have to be convincing."
"Convincing? From where I'm sitting, it looks like you're falling for him. Hard." His concern was palpable. "And I don't want to see you get hurt when this charade ends."
"I'm a big girl, Zayne. I know what I'm doing." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
"Do you?" He studied me for a long moment, then shook his head. "Just... be careful, okay? The line between pretending and real feelings gets blurry fast."
"I'm aware of that," I said, more sharply than I intended. "I don't need you to protect me."
"Maybe not. But I'm your brother. It's kind of in the job description." His expression softened slightly. "And for what it's worth, I love Cam. Always have. But this situation, it's so complicated. I don’t want you to get hurt."
I couldn't argue with that. Complicated didn't even begin to cover it.
"We'd better get back," I said, nodding toward the sandcastle where Cam was helping Tyler position a flag made of driftwood and a leaf.
Zayne nodded, but as I turned to go, he caught my arm. "Lana. I'm here. Whatever happens. Just remember that. Always. Family first.."
The simple sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. Beneath all his gruff protectiveness, Zayne had always been my steadiest ally. I nodded, my throat suddenly tight with emotion.
"I know. Thanks. Best big brother ever. Don't tell Drake."
"Drake! Lana just told me I'm her favorite!" he yelled.
"Lana, tell Zayne he's hallucinating and I'm your favorite," Drake yelled back.
"You're both my favorite," I grinned at my brothers.
I remained at the water's edge a moment longer after Zayne walked away to rib Drake, letting the gentle waves lap at my feet as I tried to steady my breathing. Was I really so transparent? If Zayne could see through me so easily, who else could? Uh, probably everybody.
More importantly, was he right? Or were Cam and I just trapped in some strange feedback loop of our own making?
We'd start pretending our engagement was real, which made it start feeling real, which convinced my family it was absolutely real, which only reinforced to both of us how real it seemed.
.. and around and around we went, like skaters tracing endless infinity loops on ice.
Was I falling for Cam for real? Or was my brain just completely unable to recognize the difference between reality and my own spin?
Was Cam falling for me? The possibilities were both exhilarating and distressing, like that breathless moment in double overtime when the puck slides toward an undefended net – victory and heartbreak balanced precariously on the edge of a blade, everything you've worked for hanging in a suspended moment while the crowd holds its collective breath and time stretches like taffy, knowing the game could end in glory or devastation in one final second
As the afternoon waned, I escaped for some solitude, needing space to think.
I found a quiet spot a little way down the beach and sat on the sand, watching the sun begin its slow descent toward the horizon.
The Gulf stretched before me, a vast expanse of blue-green dotted with the distant silhouettes of boats returning to shore.
The rhythmic sound of waves against the sand had always calmed me, even as a child.
I wasn't entirely surprised when I heard footsteps approaching. Some part of me had expected – or, okay, even hoped – that Cam would seek me out.
"Okay if I join you?" he asked, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves.
I gestured to the sand beside me, drawing my knees up to my chest.
He settled next to me, close enough that I could feel his warmth but not quite touching.
For a while, we sat in surprisingly comfortable silence, watching the sky slowly transform from blue to a palette of pinks and golds.
The fading sunlight caught in his hair, turning the golden-brown strands into a halo of fire.
It highlighted the strong line of his jaw, the fan of lashes against his cheek when he briefly closed his eyes to feel the sea breeze.
"Your family is so easy to be with," he said finally, opening his eyes to gaze at the horizon. "Today was..." He paused, seeming to search for the right word. "Special."
"They like you," I said, drawing patterns in the sand with my finger. "Especially my dad. I've never seen him warm up to someone thoroughly."
"I like them too." His voice was soft, reflective. "It's easy to see where you get your strength. Your humor. That anything for the team loyalty."
I glanced at him, finding his gaze already on me, tender and intent in a way that made my heart stutter.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Depends on what it is."
"Why haven't you ever settled down? For real, I mean." His question was gentle but direct. "You're smart, beautiful, successful... you could have anyone you wanted. You can."
The question caught me off guard. It wasn't something I discussed often, even with close friends. But there was something about this moment – the fading light, the sound of waves, the strange intimacy we'd been cultivating to pull off this ruse – that made honesty feel safe.
"I guess it's been a very long time since I met someone who seemed worth the risk," I said slowly.
"Someone who made me feel like I could be completely myself, without performing or pretending.
Someone who saw me – not just Frank Decker's daughter, or Zayne & Drake's sister, or the team publicist, or potential hockey royalty trophy bride.
Plus, I work about a million hours a week, so unless I decided to marry somebody who works at the arena, I'd never see them except on alternate Tuesdays from 3 - 3:15. "
"I can make that happen," Cam teased lightly. I happen to know a guy who works at the arena who'd be perfect for you..."
"Is it Marv, the Zamboni guy?" I retorted, "Because I'm pretty sure he's already married."
"It's not Marv..." he said under his breath.
I paused, gathering my thoughts. "And after what happened in college..."
"With me," he said quietly, his gaze dropping to the sand between us.
I nodded, unable to look at him. "With you. It made me doubt my own judgment. Made me wonder if I could really trust what I felt, or if I was just... projecting what I wanted to see."
He was quiet for a moment, his eyes on the horizon where the sun was now a half-circle of fiery orange. "I'm sorry. I never meant for..." He paused. "I understand that better than you might think."
"You do?"
He nodded, running his hands through his hair in a gesture I'd come to recognize as a sign he was deeply uncomfortable but trying to be honest.
"Remember yesterday when I said I learned to be whoever I needed to be to fit in.
New step-parent? Figure out what they want and become that version of myself.
New school? Watch the popular kids and mimic them until I belonged.
It became second nature." He picked up a handful of sand, letting it sift through his fingers.
"Even with women. I'd figure out what they wanted – the charming player, the strong silent type, the ambitious go-getter – and I'd become that.
For a night, for a week, however long it lasted. "
"And that worked for you?" I asked softly.
He shrugged, his eyes still on the sand trickling through his fingers. "It was easier than being rejected for who I really was. But after a while... it gets lonely, being someone else all the time."