Chapter 20
Miles
“Come on, Sanchez!” Cam’s voice cuts through the scorching heat, barking like a drill sergeant as I push through another rep. My arms are screaming, the bar feels like it’s made of lead, and I’m running on maybe three hours of sleep.
Nightmares.
Again.
Cam looks just as exhausted—his shirt clings to his back, dark with sweat, and his usual scowl is even deeper today.
“When the hell are you gonna hire a babysitter, Cam?” I grunt through clenched teeth, the bar wobbling a little above my chest. “You’re a cranky bastard.”
“I’m fine,” he mutters, folding his arms over his chest and keeping a close eye on me in case the bar gives. “Ashley just had a rough night.”
“That makes two of us.” I slam the bar back on the stand, chest heaving as I sit up and dump water over my face.
“Again?” he asks, running a hand through his messy dark-blond hair as he lowers himself onto the bench across from me.
I nod, dragging in a breath. “Yeah, man. They come and go. Last night it was the same old shit—watching my stepdad beat the hell out of my mom while I stood there frozen.” My voice comes out low, gravelly. The image still clings to the back of my mind like smoke.
Cam doesn’t say anything right away. Just leans forward and claps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Shit. I’m sorry. Still happening often?”
I shake my head, grabbing my bottle. “Nah. Not as much. Couple weeks since the last one. That’s a win, right?”
He nods, eyes serious. “Slowly but surely.”
When I was a kid, the nightmares came like clockwork.
I’d wake up sobbing, drenched in sweat. Greg’s parents—John and Maria—were the ones who helped me through it.
Every time. They’re not blood, but they’re my family in every way that matters.
If it weren’t for them, I’d be just another cautionary tale.
“Ever think about trying sleep remedies?” Cam asks. “Melatonin, herbal tea, I don’t know…something besides white-knuckling it?”
I shrug. “Tried most of it. Even therapy years ago. Didn’t help much, just a lot of talking and flashbacks.”
“Well, that’s kind of the whole point of therapy.” He signals for me to lie back down on the bench, and adds on an extra twenty pounds. “How many sessions did you go to before quitting?”
I stare at the bar above my head and position myself as I go to grip my hands around it.
“Two.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “It takes more than just two sessions for it to—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “I’d rather not speak to a stranger about my past either.”
He flattens his lips as he steps back, watching my form as I push the bar. “Greg told me you all went out to the lake on Sunday. He said you and Vivian are…close.”
Of course he did.
Three days later, and I can still feel her kiss on my mouth. The way her body melted into mine in the water. The way her laugh cracked something open in my chest that’s been locked up for years.
“It was good,” I say, exhaling hard as I push the bar up. “Greg’s not too thrilled about me and Vivian, though.”
Cam snorts. “Don’t take it personal. He’s protective. Always has been.”
He’s not wrong. That night after the lake, Greg pulled me aside and asked what happened. I told him the truth—she kissed me. Didn’t lie, didn’t spin it. Just facts. He appreciated the honesty, but I could tell he wasn’t happy. We left it there and shifted the conversation to him and Mindy.
“Do you like her?” Cam asks like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world.
I pause, letting the bar hover a moment before racking it and sitting up again. “Yeah,” I admit. “I do. But it’s complicated.”
And it is. Vivian isn’t just a woman I’m into. She’s a mother. A widow. She loved her husband and still carries that love with her. It’s not like he left her or broke her heart. He died.
There’s no moving on from that easily.
“Damn,” Cam mutters, scrubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “That’s heavy.”
He gets it. And he doesn’t judge.
“I don’t want to scare her off,” I say, voice low. “But she’s it for me. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but I want to be patient. I want to try.”
“She makes you want to be better?”
“Yeah.” I nod, throat thick. “She does.”
She’s the calm after every storm. The reason I’ve gone more than a few weeks without waking up in a cold sweat. She doesn’t even know it, but her voice in my head? It softens the edges.
“Well…” Cam leans back. “Don’t listen to Greg. You’ve never looked at anyone like that, man. That means something.”
I smile, genuine and a little surprised by how much his words land.
“Thanks, man. Now, seriously, about that babysitter—”
“Not happening,” he interrupts, grinning. “I’ve got it handled.”
Greg couldn’t make it today cause he’s working a shift with Vivian.
* * *
Once we wrap up our training session, we decide to grab a coffee.
Cam brought Ashley along—she looks just like him, except her hair is this soft light blonde and curls around her face, which is currently tied up in a tiny ponytail at the top of her head.
She’s chewing on her plastic keys like her life depends on it, drooling all over them.
Teething, obviously. No wonder Cam looks half-dead most days.
“Two more weeks until the competition. I think you’ve got this,” he says confidently, sipping his coffee like he didn’t just survive another sleepless night.
I feel good about it too. Confident, yeah…
but anything can happen. I’ve lost before.
And now there’s this added pressure with the whole five-year streak hovering over me like a damn storm cloud.
Mya’s been keeping me locked in with training, meetings, social content…
the whole circus. I’m just counting down the days until it’s over and I can finally breathe—six months off before the next round starts again.
“Thanks. Hope so,” I say.
I lean back in the chair, the wood creaking beneath me as I stretch my legs out. Having a sip of my coffee as Cam wipes Ashley’s chin without even looking, fatherhood looks exhausting, but damn if it doesn’t suit him.
I wonder what I’d look like in that kind of life. With a little girl who has my eyes.
I drag my thumb across the rim of my coffee cup and try to shake it off. It’s not like me to think ahead like that, not with women, and definitely not with a woman who’s still healing from losing the kind of love most people never find in the first place.
But she’s under my skin. Has been since the second she sassed me in that damn bar like she didn’t have a clue what kind of chaos she was about to cause in my life.
And now I’ve got her laugh memorized. Her tired whiskey-colored eyes when she smiles after a long day. The way she says my name like it’s something worth saying.
Shit.
I’m in deep.
“You’re quiet,” Cam says, pulling me out of it. He bounces Ashley gently on his knee. “That brain of yours ticking away?”
I nod, finishing my coffee and watching the swirl of cream settle at the bottom. “Just thinking about Vivian.”
He smirks. “What about exactly?”
I shoot him a glare, but don’t answer.
Vivian’s under my skin in a way that feels permanent—like ink instead of bruise.
I think about her when I’m supposed to be sleeping, when I’m supposed to be training, when I’m standing still and especially when I’m moving.
She’s the thought that hijacks the silence.
The ghost I crave even when she’s just been here.
She’s got me in the palm of her hand and doesn’t even realize it.
Because she’s not playing games. Not trying to get a rise out of me or reel me in. She’s just her, soft but strong, gentle in the way fire is gentle until it burns straight through you. And I swear, I’d let her turn me to ash if it meant getting another second of her pressed against me.
I crave her like something feral. Like a man who’s gone without warmth for too long and finally found sunlight in the dead of winter. Her smile ruins me. Her laugh? It’s a fucking symphony in my otherwise quiet, cracked-up mind.
And her body—
Fuck.
It’s not even about sex. Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it.
It’s the way she fits into me, against me.
The way she gripped my shoulders in that lake like she already knew what I needed.
The way she pulled me in, like I was something she wanted—as if I could make her forget just for a moment.
I’d give her the whole damn world if she asked. But she won’t. Because she’s the kind of woman who carries everything herself—grief, guilt, strength, softness—like a storm bottled into skin and eyes that still somehow manage to look like peace.
And I just want more.
More of her voice. More of her stories. More of her fingertips on my skin and her name echoing in my mind when everything else goes quiet.
I want her in every version she’s ever been and every single one she’s still becoming.
She’s not mine.
But I want to be hers so badly.
“She’s different,” I say, leaning back against the bench, watching condensation bead on my coffee cup. “The first day we met, she didn’t take my bullshit. Completely unimpressed.”
Cam raises a brow, smirking. “Finally. A woman immune to the Miles Sanchez Special. Call the press.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nah, man, I’m serious.”
He snorts. “And let me guess—that made you spiral?”
“A little,” I admit, grinning. “She got my attention without even trying. And the more I see her—with Riley, with her family, the way she talks about her late husband, the times that she’s laughing and happy—I just…started feeling shit I didn’t expect to.”
Cam’s leans into the stroller, placing Ash in it while she kicks her legs.
“And that scares the shit out of me,” I admit, quieter now.
He doesn’t say anything right away.
“It’s not that I can’t love,” I say, running a hand down my face. “I love Greg. I love John and Maria. Hell, I even love you—”
“Gross,” he cuts in with a smirk.
“Shut up. You know what I mean. But it took me years to accept that kind of love. To believe it could stay. I still brace for people to leave. Or disappoint me. Or worse—me fucking it all up.”
Cam nods, the humor gone from his face now.
I wrap both hands around my coffee, staring down at the dark liquid like it holds some answer I haven’t figured out yet.
“With Vivian…I don’t know. It feels like this isn’t a casual thing I can walk away from. If I mess it up with her, I’ll regret it. And she’s already been through enough. I couldn’t live with myself if I added to that.”
There’s a pause, heavy and real.
Cam lets out a long breath. “You’re actually serious about her.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
I think about her laugh. The way her eyes crinkle when she teases me. That softness she only shows when she thinks no one’s watching. I crave it all—her mind, her body, the way she makes me feel like I’m not broken.
Cameron looks over at baby Ash, who’s still gnawing on her gummy keys like they’re the only thing keeping her alive.
“Relationships can be scary,” he says, eyes fixed on his daughter. “Did I think Georgia and I would end up divorced? That I’d become a single dad?” He lets out a dry scoff and looks back at me. “Hell no.”
I watch him, letting his words settle. Cam isn’t the type to get deep often, but when he does, he doesn’t sugarcoat shit.
“But here’s the thing, Miles,” he says, leaning forward. “Would I go back and change it? Not a damn chance. Because Ash wouldn’t be here if I didn’t take that risk with Georgia. And she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
As if on cue, Ash lets out a high-pitched giggle.
“Da-da,” she babbles.
“She makes all the chaos worth it,” Cam adds. “Even on the nights I haven’t slept, and she screams for an hour straight because her tooth’s pushing through, I look at her and think, Yeah. I’d do this all over again.”
“Georgia’s missing out, you know,” I say, glancing down at Ash, who’s now staring at me with those big, curious blue eyes. One tiny tooth peeks out from her bottom gum like it’s trying to make a solo debut. “You’re an amazing dad, and she’s…well, blind if she can’t see that.”
Cam huffs a laugh, the kind that’s more tired than amused. “Thanks, man.”
I chuckle. “Well, she definitely missed out on this little legend.”
Cam softens, his eyes dipping to his daughter. “Yeah. I wish things could have been different, you know? I know she needs her mom sometimes too.”
I look at him and shake my head. “Don’t be so hard on yourself man, you’re—”
Ashley lets out a squeal.
“She’s happy and healthy because of you, that’s what matters but you need to take care of yourself too” I say.
He nods. “I know, but I’m still not getting a babysitter.”
“Yeah, well. You say that now. Wait till she starts crawling at light speed and smuggling crayons into your sneakers.”
“God help me.”
We both laugh, and the tension that had crept in earlier eases up. The weight of nightmares, expectations, and feelings neither of us fully know how to deal with—it doesn’t disappear, but it settles for now.
I glance down at my phone again. No new texts from Viv, but I’m not expecting one. Still, there’s that familiar itch in my chest. That pull to hear from her. To see her name light up my screen.
“She’s good for you, you know,” Cam says, catching me mid-thought. “Vivian.”
I nod. “I know.”
“And when the time’s right—if it ever is—don’t wait around too long. Life doesn’t hand out second chances often.”
I take a slow breath, letting his words sink in. “Yeah. When it’s right…I’ll know.”
He smirks. “Until then, maybe focus on beating the record at the next comp. You’re getting soft, loverboy.”
“Please,” I snort. “You’re the one walking around with diaper cream on your back pocket.”
Cam stands up and pats his jeans. “Shit—you’re not wrong.”
I softly pinch Ashley’s chubby cheek. “What are we going to do with him?” I let go of her cheek and grab a napkin from the table. “Here,” I say, holding it out to Cam.
He takes it and wipes his hands, muttering, “Thanks—actually, no. Took you all morning to tell me I had diaper cream on my ass,” he says, tossing the napkin back at me.
“Just proving my point,” I shoot back, smirking.
He glances at Ash, and she immediately reaches her tiny arms out to him. With a soft sigh, he unbuckles her from the stroller and lifts her onto his lap, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I’ll think about it,” he says quietly.
I grab my coffee and down the last sip, relieved to hear him say those words.
Like he said to me, slowly but surely.