Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
cameron
Big mistake.
My hand tightens on the doorknob. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to congratulate you on the win in person. You were incredible out there tonight. That save in the third period was…” She trails off, biting her lower lip and looking up at me from beneath her lashes. “Amazing.”
“Thanks.” I widen my stance to block the entire doorway like I’m a club bouncer keeping out underage kids. “Was that all?”
“Come on, Cam.” She toys with the knot of the trench coat, but I keep my focus fixed on her face. “Remember how good we were together? The trip to Cabo? That weekend in New York when I snuck into your hotel room? We had fun.”
I’m positive she thinks her tone is coming across as sultry, but really, it’s like nails against a chalkboard.
“I know I messed up, but I was young and stupid and scared of how serious things were getting. It’s the biggest mistake of my life.
” She locks eyes with me, and that’s when I know she’s practiced this speech.
Probably used it on another guy, too. “Give me another chance. Let me prove I’ve changed.
You don’t have to decide anything tonight.
Just… let me in. Let’s talk. Remember what we had. ”
She takes another step closer, her perfume wafting around me. It’s harsh and spicy, nothing like the sweet vanilla scent Kennedy wears. And suddenly all I can think about is a woman who insists I growl and talks about Broadway shows like they’re scenes from her life.
“No,” I say.
Gigi blinks like she’s truly surprised by the answer. “What?”
“I said no. You should go.”
Her confident smile falters, though she recovers quickly. “Cam, don’t be ridiculous. We’re both adults here. I made a mistake. I’m apologizing—”
“And I’m saying no.” I step back, pulling the door closed. “I don’t know how to make that any clearer.”
She throws her hand out, stopping the door. The playful seductress act evaporates, the pouty expression replaced by a much harder one. “You’re really going to turn me down? I moved back to Boston.”
Irritation makes my neck prickle, but I keep my tone even. “I didn’t ask you to.”
Anger flashes across her face, but once again, she smooths it away easily. “I’ll give you time to think about it.”
She turns on her heel of one of the red bottomed Louboutins I got her for her birthday a few years back and struts down the hallway without looking back. Fuck. Jake was right.
I close the door and run a hand through my damp hair, my heart pounding harder than it did during the third period.
Gigi’s not the type to take rejection well, and vindictive is a mild term to label what she can be when she feels slighted. She’s not going to quit. She never does.
Actually…
I let out a bitter laugh. She certainly quit our relationship, so maybe that’s not as true as it once was.
My phone buzzes with a text from Logan, forcing my thoughts away from her.
Logan Clark
You’re still coming to dinner, right? My mom made special gluten-free crescent rolls.
And Frisbee misses you. I really think you’ll get along this time.
Cameron Davies
Yeah, I’m heading down now. Would never miss out on your mom’s cooking.
Cameron Davies: And I avoid Frisbee because I’m allergic, not because I don’t like him.
I take a deep breath, centering myself. Time to pretend everything’s normal and not like I just kicked out my ex-girlfriend. I stopped thirty-seven shots during tonight’s game, so I can certainly do that. Right?
I expertly maneuver between two cars whose drivers should have their licenses revoked. I’m in a pissy mood. Not only did it take me twenty minutes to find this goddamn parking spot, but I’m still rattled by Gigi’s hotel visit earlier this week and I’m nursing a scratch from the Devil.
Or as my sister calls him, Zo.
Sophie may have found her cat in a dumpster outside her favorite restaurant, but I swear he crawled there from the depths of hell.
If I so much as breathe wrong, the furry fucker pounces on me.
All I did was lean over to grab a tissue from the coffee table—because my allergies don’t matter to the cat distribution system according to Soph—and he acted as if I was about to lob a grenade. Insane motherfucker.
Her other cat, Kit, is fine, but that’s because he has one singular brain cell and it’s holding on for dear life. Seriously. He looks constantly surprised. If he wasn’t cute and content to just exist, I’d be seriously concerned.
“Are you going to pout all night?” Sophie asks, shutting the passenger door with more force than necessary.
“I’m not pouting,” I mutter. “I went to your apartment to help you hang a piece of art and your cat accosted me. I’m allowed to be annoyed.”
Her gaze flicks upward. “He barely touched you.”
“Tell that to the Band-Aid on my arm,” I snap. “You need to keep a better eye on him.”
She bumps me with her shoulder as we head toward the restaurant. “He’s a cat, Cameron. I don’t have him under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”
“You should,” I tell her. “He’s a menace and a danger to society.”
“He only leaves my apartment to go to the vet,” she says. “You act like he’s roaming the city, starting gang fights and bullying children.”
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised. Zo may be small, but he’s got a big brain filled with evil ideas.
Jake is here, already waiting inside the vestibule with his brows drawn together and his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets.
Other than poker night and postgame bar hangouts, any time I spend outside of hockey is with my sister, so I normally wouldn’t let a friend crash our dinner.
But Jake’s dad is in town and he’s avoiding him by packing his calendar so tight there’s no room to breathe.
Right now, Jake looks like he’s ready to pummel the next person who stares at him funny, and that man is likely to blame.
He greets me with a small nod. “Hey, Davies.”
“You good?” I ask, packing a lot of meaning into two short words.
“Good enough.” With a dry smile, he turns toward my sister. “Hey, Soph. How are you?”
She gives him a small wave, her cheeks flushing pink. “Hi, Jake.”
The owner of the restaurant lights up as we approach the host stand. It has nothing to do with me or Jake or athletic prowess. No, this is all Sophie. She may be shy, but with her sweet demeanor, she easily wins over even the most hard-hearted people, and once she’s in, she’s in for life.
“Sophie! My girl.” Adina rushes over, wiping her hands on her apron, and pulls my sister into a hug that nearly lifts her off her feet.
“Hi, Adina,” she says, breathless. “How are you?”
“It’s been too long since you came to see us,” the older woman chides, cupping Sophie’s face. “Are you eating enough? You look thin. And your brother is eating too much. Too big.”
“I’m eating fine,” she promises, her eyes lit up.
I bite back a smile. This is the same conversation they have every time we come in.
Her husband Benjamin emerges from the kitchen, grinning. “There she is! Our favorite customer.” He looks at me and then Jake, his expression morphing. He looks serious now, but the twinkle in his eye gives him away. “Sophie. You bring a special man friend?”
My sister’s cheeks redden and she shakes her head. “Oh, he’s not—”
“And a very handsome man, too.” Adina gives Jake an appraising once-over. “Well done.”
“Jake’s not my, um, special man friend,” Sophie squeaks out, face redder than a fire engine. “He’s Cameron’s teammate.”
Adina’s look of interest sours to annoyance, her lips flattening. “Oh. Are your eyes bad?” she asks Jake. “Your ears?”
He glances at me, frowning in confusion. “Uh… no?”
“Then you must be a fool,” she says. “You have a lovely young woman right here and you don’t pursue her?”
The idea of any of my friends paying attention to my sister pisses me off, but Jake? He may be perfect on paper, but he goes through women like a sick kid goes through tissues.
Before I can make it abundantly clear that if Jake so much as touched my sister, the Bobcats would be short a right-winger due to his sudden, mysterious death, Benjamin waves us toward a corner booth.
“Come, sit. I’ll bring you the special. I’ve been testing out a gluten-free pita recipe I want you to try, Cameron. ”
We settle into our seats while Adina brings over fresh pita, vegetables, and hummus, “on the house,” like she always does.
“I forgot to ask,” Jake says as he digs into the toasted almond and garlic hummus. “How did your date with Kennedy go?”
I briefly consider sending his GPS coordinates directly to his dad. He could’ve asked me about dinner with Kennedy during any of the twenty fucking times we’ve seen each other since the non-date, but nope. He asks in front of Sophie, so I can’t retaliate.
I shoot him a menacing glare. “It wasn’t an actual date, asshole.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Smirking, he tears off a piece of pita. “Dinner and drinks at a nice restaurant with a pretty woman? Sounds suspiciously like a date.”
“It was for a charity auction,” I say through gritted teeth, actively ignoring the part where he calls her pretty.
Jake clucks. “The charity auction date that you practically begged her to bid on.”
“I will end you,” I mutter, slowly reaching for the blunt knife that will do absolutely nothing.
Sophie props her chin on her hand, studying me with far too much interest. “Kennedy said she had fun.”
I straighten. “She told you she had fun?” The words are out before I can stop them.
“Oh my God, you care what she thought.” She breaks into a grin. “That’s so sweet.”
“I don’t—”
“He definitely cares,” Jake says.
Sophie keeps her focus locked on me, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Do you like like her?”
“Do I like like her?” I fight a smile, deflecting from her actual question. “What am I, Soph? Six years old with a playground crush?”
My sister flushes, her pale skin turning a light shade of pink. She reaches over the variety of dips and spreads and smacks my arm. “You know what I mean, jerk. Would you go out with her again?”