32. Cameron
Cameron
Aren’t you already creating a family? Cam scowled as he stood on the sidelines of the basketball court and watched the kids playing.
All very different, typical teenagers, limbs too long and gangly.
But all of them shared similarly tragic backgrounds.
Parents who were addicts. Abuse. A litany of sob stories and yet from here, they had a chance.
If they took it. Cam and his team couldn’t do much more than give them the opportunity.
That reminded Cam of how she’d looked at him when he’d told her about this place, with so much admiration and compassion. He’d felt proud. He wanted her to see this. But she would see too much, of course.
Coward. He scowled even harder.
‘Woah, what’s got up in your grill? Or should I say who? I saw the pictures in the paper – she’s very pretty.’
Cam glanced at Dean O’Malley. His old mentor and teacher who had put him on the right path and who had agreed to come on board with the charity.
He was older and grizzled now, but no less effective.
Cam suddenly felt a surge of emotion at all Dean had done for him.
Cam then cursed Mary – for the past few days it had felt as if a lid had been blown off a tightly locked box. He was having all the feels.
His friend must have seen something because his eyes narrowed on Cam. ‘Are you having a midlife crisis, Cam?’
Was he having a midlife crisis? Quite possible. His brain had migrated to his pants as soon as he’d laid eyes on Mary Ryan and it hadn’t been the same since. Damn her. No, not damn her. She was amazing. Sexy. Intelligent. Funny. Selfless. Sweet. Hot. And gone.
‘You’ve been acting weird all week,’ Dean said. ‘Is it the woman? It’s about time you met someone and settled down.’
His words chafed against all Cam’s rawness. ‘Do you think it’s that simple?’
‘What?’
‘Settling down, having a family, all that stuff.’
‘Why the hell not?’ Cam looked at him. His friend looked back and said, ‘What? You think you’re so special? That you can’t be felled by love and the very particular smell of a ripe diaper?’
Cam laughed out loud. Dean smiled, but he put a hand on Cam’s shoulder because he knew Cam’s inner demons. ‘Maybe you should just get over yourself and risk it, hmm? I promise, whatever happens, it won’t be as bad as what you’ve already been through.’
Cam pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to Dean who said, ‘What am I looking at? I haven’t got my glasses.’
Cam’s voice felt rough. ‘It’s a house. A brownstone. Upper East Side.’ A family home. Something that Cam wouldn’t have dared look at twice. Before.
Dean handed the brochure back. ‘Nice. I never did think that apartment suited you. It’s not you.’
‘What is me?’
‘What’s you is whatever you want, Cam – you just need to grab it and trust it’ll be OK.’
Cam stood there for a long moment until Dean said, ‘What are you waiting for? An invitation?’
Cam looked at Dean. Nothing, he was waiting for nothing. Dean was right – it was all there for him, if he only had the courage to reach out and grab it. And, if it wasn’t too late.