by Hannah Gray
“Not anymore, it’s not.”
“Even if you are telling the truth, I can’t deal with all of this right now.” She motions around. “It’s too much. You are ruining every ounce of progress I have made. The thing with Carter earlier, I felt scared that I had kept something from you and was going to get punished. I came here to apologize when I didn’t even do anything wrong. And then this stuff with Layla. I’m not at a point in my life where I can deal with this. Please understand. Try to understand.”
My heart sinks in my chest. I don’t like where this conversation is going. “What are you saying, Cameran?”
She gives me a sad look as tears roll down her cheeks. I know that this is where she says good-bye. I can feel her slowly pulling away. Only this time, it feels like it’s forever.
“I am not ready for any of this right now. I’m not saying that I won’t be in the future, but right now, I’m not.”
My heart shreds into a million pieces. Leaving me empty inside yet again. “How am I supposed to let you just walk away?”
She gives me a weak shrug. “Trust that if it’s meant to be, it will be.”
I shake my head. Unable to process these words. We just got back on track. I thought we were going to finally be together.
Bitterness laces my voice, seeping through my veins. “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” I spew. “We belong together now. Fuck, we’ve belonged to each other since we crossed paths for the first time. Maybe you don’t want to be mine. But damn it, Cameran, I am yours.”
She breaks eye contact and looks down at the ground. Her slender shoulders shake as she tries to keep herself from shattering.
She turns to walk away but stops. “Good-bye, Trent, and good luck this season. I mean it; don’t let your dreams pass you by. You’ve worked too hard.” And with that, she’s gone.
My knees buckle beneath me, and I sink to the ground. Stuck in that spot, unable to move for I don’t know how long. All I know is, when I finally gather myself up, it’s dark outside.
thirty-eight
Cameran
“Are you sure you’re able to work Thanksgiving?” the owner of The Atlantic, Glenn, asks, glancing up from the paperwork that he has spread over his desk.
“Yep, I’m positive. I have no plans, and I could use the money. Really, no worries.”
“Kid, don’t you have a family or something that will miss you?”
My heart sinks, and my cheeks burn. I am surely turning red as a tomato.
“Um, no, I don’t actually. I’ve had friends ask me to come home to their families, but I just don’t want to. I want to stay here and work. Besides, you know you need me.” I crack a cheesy smile to make him think all is great.
“You’ve got a point there. It’s just me, you, Tawney, and Tyler. You and Tawney will be seating and waitressing. Tyler and I will take care of the poor bastards who are propped up at the bar for Thanksgiving.”
I nod. Glenn usually just swings in a few times a week; he’s helping out for Thanksgiving because we are so shorthanded. I suppose Thanksgiving was a big deal for me, too, when my parents were alive. But that was then.
After speaking with Glenn, I finish filling sugars and ketchup bottles and make my way to the bar when I see Anna rushing in.
“Sorry I couldn’t give you a ride this morning. I had to video-chat with my parents to discuss Thanksgiving.” She groans and rolls her eyes.
“No big deal. I decided to walk.”
It is fairly warm out for November. We’ve had a few small snowstorms, but the sidewalks are clear. To be honest, I love the snow; it’s beautiful. The walk is only about fifteen or twenty minutes, and it’s good for my soul.
Placing her hands on the bar, she leans forward. “Seriously, Cam? You walked? It’s flipping cold,” she scolds me like a young child.
“It’s actually pretty warm. Plus, that North Face jacket you got me for my birthday is sooo warm and cozy.”
My birthday was a few days ago. It was nice. Anna took me to dinner and gave me an amazing gift. I have never lived anywhere that I needed a jacket this long and thick, but I absolutely love it.
“You doing all right? You sure you don’t want to go with me this weekend to Maine?”
She’s been hounding me for weeks about this. I know she is worried that I will fall into a deep, dark depression. Especially spending a holiday like Thanksgiving alone.
But I’m doing okay.
I miss him all day, every day, and that will probably never change. But I need this time. And he has respected my wishes. On my birthday, I did get two dozen yellow roses though, and I have a strong feeling he sent them. Carter would have boasted if he had given them to me. Plus, they are yellow, which seems to be a thing for us since he calls me Sunshine and all.
“I’m doing all right. I promise, Anna.” I give her a hand with wiping off the bar to get ready for the restaurant to open in a few minutes. “I am focusing on myself right now. Which is what needs to be done. I am going to work on Thanksgiving to help Glenn out. This is where I want to be.”
She lets out a totally Anna, totally dramatic groan. “Ugh, fine. Guess I’ll be dealing with my parents on my own then.”
“Sorry, chick. You know I love ya though.” I blow her a kiss and wink.
“Yeah, yeah … sure you do.” But she’s at least smiling as she says it.
thirty-nine
Trent
Mason jogs down the stairs, holding his duffel bag. “You sure you don’t want to come home with me?”
He sets himself up with that comment.
“I’ll pass. You’re not really my type.”
“Fuck off. I’m everyone’s type.” He winks.
I shake my head. Gotta love Mason and his goofy attitude.
He takes a bite of his apple. “Lane already head out?”
I nod and turn my attention back to the TV. “Yep. A bit ago. You are coming back tomorrow night?”
“Yep, I should be there by five, eating dinner and sleeping there. Then, I’ll head home after breakfast, so we can get our gym session in tomorrow night.”
“All right, asswipe, drive safe.”
He flips me off and heads out the door. A minute later, I hear his truck screaming out of the driveway and down the road.
I flip the footrest up on the recliner and lean back. Pulling out my phone, I go to Instagram first, typing in Cameran Steele, and just like every time, her profile is set to private. It’s a big step for her to have social media again. It means she feels safe. I want her to feel safe. I want her to be happy too. Though, if I’m being honest, I want her to be happy with me.
I see my Dad’s name flash across the screen. Ah, maybe the fucker remembered it’s Thanksgiving after all. I toss around the idea of hitting Ignore. Then, I worry he might just show up here, and as angry as I’ve been, I might put him through my wall, so in the end, I accept.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Trent. Er, happy Thanksgiving.”
I sit, dumbfounded and unable to form a sentence back. He’s never called and opened up the phone call with a line so friendly. I’m not sure if hell has frozen over. Maybe I should check outside to see if pigs are flying.
“Trent? Are you there?” His voice pulls me back to reality.
“Uh, yeah. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“What are your plans for the day?” He doesn’t sound bitter or angry. He sounds genuinely curious.
“Not a lot. I’ll probably go lift in a bit and get a workout in.”
“I was thinking of coming out that way. I’ll pick you up, and we can go to dinner?”
I have no idea what is going on with my father right now. Don’t get me wrong; we have spent some Thanksgivings together but not very often, and they aren’t fun. Plus, our last conversation wasn’t exactly good.
“Son, I know I’m probably the last person you want to see. I’ll understand if you say no. Though I hope you’ll say yes.”
Against my better judgment, I de
cide to just go with it. “Yeah, sure. When will you be here?”
He responds quickly, “How about in an hour and a half?”
“Okay,” I answer curtly. Still confused as fuck about his demeanor.
The last words in the conversation are his. “See you in a bit.”
I hang up without saying anything else. I’m sure this will be a shitshow. We have a big game this weekend, and we have a real shot at the championship. At this point in the season, we are 11-0. So, he’ll need to put his two cents in about football. He’ll be a prick, and I’ll flip out. Awesome times. Happy fucking Turkey Day.
My mind goes back to Cameran. I wonder what she’s doing today. I bet she went to Maine with Red. I hope she did. The thought of her alone in her dorm almost makes me want to get in my truck and drive over there. Almost. I know I need to give her space.
To keep going in life and football, I have to believe that, one day, she’ll come back to me. But a big part of me worries she’ll find someone new and forget all about us. I guess time will tell. I’ll never stop wanting her. That much I do know. And no matter how much she pulls away, she’ll always want me too. She belongs to me, and I belong to her. Someday, I hope she opens those big gray-blue eyes and figures it out. As corny as it might sound, she’s my home.
Cameran
Who would have thought so many people were too lazy to cook a turkey on Turkey Day? This place is hopping with all sorts of people. Big families of twelve or more, older couples who probably don’t want to cook for just the two of them, married couples and their young children, singles sitting all alone. I feel most connected to that last group. Although hats off to them for being brave enough to dine out all by their lonesome on a day meant for family.
I’m filling my tray with food when Tawney pushes through the swinging doors. “Girl … Trent is here with a hot, older version of himself. They are in your section because mine is full. What do you want to do?”
My heart lodges into my throat. “Can you switch a table with me? I just sat a four-top in your section a few minutes ago. I’ll take them, and you take Trent and old Trent?”
She nods and places her small hand on my shoulder. “Of course. You got this, girl!”
I don’t got this. I so, so, so don’t got this. I’ll probably drop a tray of food or beer on my table because I’ll know he’s watching me.
Thank goodness the table I’m taking food out to now is in a separate little area than where he is. After I deliver it, I go to the waitress station and peer out into the dining room. If he looked up right now, he would see me peeking. So, hopefully, he doesn’t.
He looks so good. He’s wearing a light-gray henley and dark blue jeans. His dirty-blond hair is a little shorter than the last time I saw him. He looks really hot, per usual. I can practically smell that sexy scent from across the room. I wish I could be wrapped up in his arms with my face pressed up against his shirt, breathing him in.
I look at the man sitting next to him. He looks a lot like Trent, but his hair is a little darker with some gray sprinkled in it. He’s about the same build and height. He certainly keeps himself in shape. I’ll say it … he’s a DILF. Although all of the things I’ve heard about him, he’s a prick as well. Though they don’t look like they are disgusted with each other’s company, so perhaps it’s going okay.
Taking a deep breath, I head to my next table. Which just so happens to be—yep, you guessed it—right next to his.
Avoiding any eye contact his way, I greet my customers. A husband and wife with their little girl, who I would say is three, and a boy who must be five. They are probably the most adorable kids I have ever seen.
“Happy Thanksgiving. I’m Cameran. I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
The mom and dad both order iced teas. I get to the little boy, who turns to his mom.
“Mommy, she’s really, really pretty.”
I hide my laugh with my palm. “Why, thank you, kind sir. How nice. Could I bring you an apple juice or perhaps a chocolate milk?”
His eyes sparkle. “Chocolate milk, extra chocolaty.”
“You got it, handsome.” I turn to his little sister, who looks like a doll. These kids are making my ovaries ache. “And for you, princess?”
She looks at her parents and then signals for me to come closer with her finger.
I kneel down, so I am at her height. “Yes, princess?”
She whispers, “Are you related to Queen Elsa? Because you have the same bwaided hair.”
I make my face very serious. “She’s my cousin. Do you have a message for her? I can pass it along if you’d like.”
Her eyes grow as big as saucers, and she slowly nods her head up and down. “Can you tell her Hadwey says she’s my favwit Disney princess?”
I smile. “You bet. I will let her know.” I wink at her and push up onto my feet.
When I do, Trent’s eyes meet mine, and for a few moments, I am completely frozen in time. He gives me a small smile and raises his hand and waves. My legs begin to carry me over his way. I don’t want to be a complete bitch to him by ignoring him. He smiles at me, but it isn’t reaching his eyes like it normally does.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Trent.”
“You too, Cameran. Sorry you have to work.”
I wave my hand. “No big deal. They were short-staffed.” I turn to his dad. “Happy Thanksgiving. I’m Cameran.” I’m expecting him to glare and yell at me to scram. After all, all of the things I’ve heard about him have been awful.
Instead, he smiles and holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Cameran. I am John Kade, Trent’s dad.”
I shake his hand and glance at Trent. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to work. We’re very shorthanded today. It was nice to see you, and I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.”
He looks uncomfortable. Which isn’t something I’ve ever seen him look. I’m guessing it’s a combination of me and his father.
“You too, Cam.”
With that, I turn and walk away. It’s only been a few weeks of the Trent Kade recovery, and I’m not crying in a supply closet. That’s something, right?
forty
Trent
We pull into my house, and I reach for the door handle. Ready to get out of this truck before he fucks up our semi-normal dinner. Actually, it’s probably the most normal dinner we’ve had since my mom died.
“Son.” My father’s voice breaks the silence. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
I look out the front window. It’s clear I won’t be able to avoid this awkward-as-fuck conversation.
Clearing my throat, I say back, “Sorry for what exactly?” I need to know this asshole knows what he should be sorry for. Years and years of emotional abuse.
“For being a poor excuse for a father. For pushing you down instead of building you up. I’m sick over how I treated you. I’d do anything to take it back and hit restart.”
Bitterness fills my veins. “But you can’t, Dad. Can’t you see that? There is no restart button.”
“I know that. Damn it, I know that, Trent. I am so fucking sorry.” He leans his head back against the headrest. “You needed me more than ever, and I couldn’t … get out of my own way. I couldn’t look at you after she died. I have wished so many times that God had taken me instead. I never understood why he would take a person like Grace. She was the best person I have ever known. She saved me from myself. When she died, I guess I just couldn’t pull myself out of the darkness. Not that I tried very hard.”
I let his words sink in. He’s never given me jack shit for an apology, so this is all-new territory. As bitter as I feel toward him, he’s also my dad at the end of the day. He’s the only parent I have left.
“You know, the day I get signed with the NFL, I planned to never speak to you again?”
He’s quiet for a minute. Then, he turns toward me. “And I would deserve that. But, Trent, I don’t want that. I promise you, I am working on being a better dad. Will I be
perfect? No chance in hell. But I promise to start being the father that you need.”
“How do I know that you’re actually working on yourself? How do I know you won’t be an asshole after the game this weekend and tell me how much I sucked?”
“Well, for starters, I’m finally getting the help I need that I pushed away for so many years.” He seems embarrassed by saying he got help. “I mean, I’ve been going to a grief counselor. And, well, a grief group too.”
“That’s good, Dad. I’m happy for you.”
“I’m doing it for you, son, for us. I know it’ll take time, but you’ll see.”
I nod and grab the door handle. I push the door open, ready for this conversation to be over. Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy for my dad, but I need to see more progress before I welcome him in with open arms.
“Happy Thanksgiving. Thanks for dinner.”
“Thanks for agreeing to go. Happy Thanksgiving, son. I’ll see you after your game this weekend.”
forty-one
Trent
Six Weeks Later
We did it. I mean, we actually won and can call ourselves champions. Not only that, but we also held an undefeated season. You would think it would be the best day of my life, wouldn’t you? You’d think all of my dreams had just come true. I played the perfect game. I put on a show for the NFL scouts. I helped bring this win home for my team. And yet, as I stand here in the Arizona stadium with fans going wild, confetti falling, my teammates going insane, I feel empty. Don’t get me wrong; it was a fucking dream to win, and I couldn’t be prouder of my team. But that empty pit in my stomach, that feeling that nothing will ever fill, well, it fucking sucks. It ruins times like these. Stealing from the most important moments of my life. I hate it. But on the other hand, I know why it’s there and why it continues to ache. All of this isn’t for nothing. I hope not anyway.
“You’re the fucking man, Kade!” Lane slaps me on the back.