Challenge

by Amy Daws

  He slides into me, and I stare at him despite the overwhelming fullness and wonderful pressure we’re creating between our bodies. His eyes are locked on mine, too. The passion displayed there for me makes my heart expand.

  More than I’ve ever felt before.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I’M not surprised when I come out of my room to find my dad, Booker, Tanner, and Gareth sitting in my kitchen. Booker is propped on a stool at the counter. Tanner is perched on the counter, and Gareth and Dad are occupying two seats at the table. Everybody has coffee in hand.

  “It’s not even the day after a match,” I say, striding over to the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup. I empty the last bit and immediately begin making a new pot. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  Tanner’s brows lift knowingly. “Is Indie still here?”

  I hit the coffee to brew and turn, leaning back against the counter. “She is. Out cold still.”

  “We wanted to talk to you,” Tanner says, shifting nervously on the counter. “I’ll start. We still want you to have the surgery, Cam. Not to play football, but to have the choice to play if you ever want to. I think you’re going to get to a point in your mind when things all click into place, and you’re going to realise this is all just a mental healing that’s happening. Then you’re going to wish you had the graft out so there’s no delay in chasing your dreams. I know what you went through sucked, Cam. I could feel it myself…in ways only a twin brother can. But I think you’re wrong to take football off the table entirely.”

  He exhales heavily and looks around at everyone else like he forgot people were here.

  “That how you feel, too, Gareth? Booker?”

  Gareth replies first. “You’re too good of an athlete to be walking around with something foreign in your body, Camden.”

  “I’d just hate to see something bad happen if you leave it in,” Booker adds.

  “What do you think, Dad?” I ask, looking over at him and taking a sip from my mug.

  “I’m not here to push you into having the surgery. This is something your brothers wanted to do. I thought we should give you space, but since they are all too thick-headed to listen to their old man, I’m just here to referee.”

  “You don’t want me to sign that letter of intent?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.

  He shifts in his seat, clearly fighting the inner manager inside of him. “Only if you want to.”

  “Is that letter of intent even still valid? After that photo got leaked yesterday?”

  He purses his lips. “It is…but with some conditions,” he clips out, clearly uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

  My brows lift. “So you’ve spoken to them.”

  “They rang me,” he replies, and his eyes cast down like he’s ashamed for taking the call.

  “What are the conditions?”

  He sighs. “Camden, we don’t have to discuss this now.”

  “What are the conditions?”

  He clears his throat. “They want you and Dr. Porter to do an interview with a high-level tabloid. Nothing sleazy. Vanity Fair or Hello! magazine to explain your relationship. Take the seediness out of it and put some good PR out there for the team and the hospital. That’s when you’d announce your new position as a Gunner.”

  “Is that it?” I ask and all of my brothers’ heads snap to me in shock.

  Dad shrugs. “Pretty much. There are some monetary negotiations I have to discuss with you, but…Camden, I’m sorry…What are you saying right now?”

  I take a drink and set my mug down. “I’m saying that I’m already having the surgery as soon as they call me back with the new scheduled time. I’m even letting that prat, Dr. Prichard, do it just so they don’t look at Indie any more negatively than they already are.” I exhale a deep breath as what I’m about to say becomes a huge declaration in my mind and my heart. “And even though I’ll probably bleed green and white my whole life…red is a great colour on me.”

  “Fuck yes!” Tanner exclaims, leaping off the counter and hugging me ferociously. “You’re going to be a Gunner? Bloody hell, Booker, Bethnal better move up next season because I’m ready for a chance to kick Cam’s arse on the pitch. Dad, I don’t want to be a striker anymore. I want to be a defender. Gareth, you lucky sod. You better crush him when they play Man U.”

  Gareth does that whole shoulder-shaking laugh thing and Booker’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. Dad watches me from the table as my brothers all hug me with congratulations. When they’re done being the dramatic footballers they are, he stands up and walks over to me.

  Putting his hand on my shoulder, he eyes me hard and says, “Did you find your passion again, Son?”

  I smile back and a softness creeps into my chest. “I think I found a couple.”

  I WAKE COMPLETELY WRAPPED UP in Camden. His braced leg is tucked between my bare legs, and his arms hold me from behind. Every piece of my exposed skin is nearly encompassed by his.

  I think I’ve got the hang of this spooning bit, I think to myself.

  I separate from his grasp and slip out of bed with a big naked stretch. I toss on the red Gunners jersey he gave me last week and make my way over to the hotel window. I pull back the curtains and admire the early morning view of Baltimore, knowing full well I could drive a truck through this room and it wouldn’t wake Camden.

  It’s been two weeks since I kissed him in my OR, and now we’re on our honeymoon.

  Of sorts.

  Except for the whole surgery part.

  And the fact that we didn’t actually get married.

  So it’s not so much of a honeymoon as it is a getaway that involved an operation with a high-level surgeon at John Hopkins Hospital.

  Two days after my suspension, the chief called the Harrises and me back into the hospital for a meeting. Apparently they discovered the photo from the OR that was leaked to the media came from Prichard’s mobile. The whole ordeal was a huge violation of the Patient Data Protection Act and they were desperate to make it right.

  Part of the agreement was to send Camden to the States for the second half of The Wilson Repair. Then they offered me my job back.

  I declined instantly.

  There’s no way I want to go back to a place that let Prichard get away with what he did. Plus, that would put me right back under his tutelage and I can’t stomach the thought.

  So now, here Cam and I reside, in a lush hotel in Baltimore, waiting for our flight home later tonight. His surgeon yesterday was so confident in Cam’s recovery that he said he should be able to train with Arsenal immediately after we get back.

  I was beside Cam through the whole process, but not in an official medical capacity. Strictly as his girlfriend…waiting room and all.

  My mobile begins vibrating on the nightstand. I tip toe over to it and see Belle’s name on the screen.

  “Hello?” I whisper and head back over to the window.

  “Hey, how’s he feeling?” Belle’s voice coos into the line.

  “Good. He’s still sleeping, but the surgery went great yesterday, and he said he had no pain last night.”

  “That’s fab. Did the surgeon say if he can start training straight away?”

  I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yes, we fly back home tonight, and the surgeon said he can start tomorrow if he’d like.”

  “That’s incredible.”

  “Yeah, Cam was pleased.” I smile at his large, sleeping body lying so peacefully on the bed.

  “So do you want to hear some dirt?” Belle’s voice sounds conspiratorial.

  My brows lift. “Sure.”

  “There’s a group of six nurses that have come together and are all filing sexual harassment claims against Prichard.”

  “What?” I gasp.

  “Yep. The prat poked his last hole at work, I’d say.”

  “I’d say, too. Wow.” A chill runs up my spine.

  “So if he gets sacked, do you think you might reconsider the offer to come back t
o work?”

  I pull my lip into my mouth and begin chewing away at it. “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean? If he’s gone, you can get back on track. What’s stopping you?”

  I exhale heavily, not entirely sure I am ready to get into all of this quite yet since I haven’t even talked it over with Cam. “You know, Belle, since the moment I was suspended, I’ve felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. Things feel different now, as if I have more options. Honestly, I’ve been reading a lot about sports medicine.”

  “Is that a euphemism for sex with a footballer?”

  “No! Don’t be daft.” I can’t help but smirk.

  “Well, I’m guessing he’s lying naked in your hotel bed right now, even though he’s only one day post-op.” I cringe and she laughs knowingly into the line. “So what will you do, darling? Because I know you have a plan stewing in that big brain of yours.”

  She knows me so well. “I think I’m going to talk to Camden’s dad about job-shadowing Bethnal Green F.C. team doctor. It’d be great experience, and I think I could have something to offer the world of sports medicine beyond surgical.”

  “Of course you could. You’re my wunderkid!”

  Rolling my eyes, I ask, “Do you think it’s crazy? I’m sure it wouldn’t be a paying job. I have some money saved, but things might get tight.”

  “So you move in with me. Or get some guilt money out of your parentals. Plus, I bet that that Harris brother you’ve got wouldn’t mind sparing a zero from that big fat contract he just signed.”

  Her last suggestion makes me frown. “I’m not taking money from Cam.”

  She tsks. “I know you won’t. I’m just saying you have options. I’ve been trying to get you to move in with me since med school. This sounds like an exciting prospect.”

  Her encouragement touches me. “But it’s sad I won’t be working with you anymore.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” she scoffs. “I won’t be here much longer anyway.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, I meant to tell you sooner, but we had that little fight and then you got Harris’d. I got a fellowship position offer with Dr. Elizabeth Miller. She’s a high-risk neonatal surgeon at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital.”

  “I’ve heard of her!” I screech, quickly pressing my hand over my mouth. “She’s like the American badass in the world of high-risk pregnancy surgery. Belle, this is huge.”

  “I know. I can’t believe I was selected. You’d think they hadn’t met me or something,” she giggles.

  “Shut up, you’re brilliant. So I guess you’ve picked your specialty then?”

  “I guess I have.”

  A moment of heavy silence stretches out between us.

  “You’re going to save babies, Belle.” My smile couldn’t be wider, and I’m shocked when my chin begins to wobble.

  “Tequila Sunrise, Indie.” Her voice catches a bit, and I’m transported back in time to the moment we saw that baby die of SIDs. That moment we started living our life to the fullest.

  “Tequila Sunrise, Belle.”

  We discuss the particulars a bit more. By the time I hang up, I feel a renewed sense of determination to get back to London and put my plan into action. Belle and I have grown up so much in a matter of weeks and our futures look very bright indeed.

  We say our goodbyes. Then I walk over to the bed to try to rouse Camden. “Mmmm, stroke lower, Specs. You know what I like.”

  I giggle and slip back into bed with him. “You like everything.” I kiss his shoulder.

  His sleepy blue eyes pop open. “I like you,” he growls and pulls me on top of him, rolling us over to the other side of the bed where he proceeds to remind me just how much he likes me.

  2 Months Later

  “I’M NOT KIDDING, TANNER. You need to put the fear of God into the team. If anyone even makes a backhanded comment that could be remotely toward Indie, Camden Harris Fists of Fury will fly,” I bark, while standing in our kitchen and using wild hand gesticulations to demonstrate my point.

  Then I add, “First they’ll get your fists. Then Booker’s fists. Then my fists once you guys get back to London and I get a hold of whoever had the nerve to look at her funny. You think we can cart them to Manchester so Gareth can have a crack, too?”

  “He’s full on psychotic now.” Gareth’s deep voice cuts into my tirade as he murmurs to Indie. They are sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, both apparently judging the show.

  “I think you’re overreacting just a titch, Cam,” Vi states as she waddles over to the stove, stroking her now protruding belly.

  “You think?” Hayden laughs, pulling Vi away from the oven and bending over to grab the large pan she was about to take out.

  I look at them with wide, horrified eyes. “There’s more where this is coming from, Hayden and Vi. Just you two wait ‘til my niece is born. She’s not going to have a bloke get within a mile of her without the Harrises bringing the pain!”

  They burst out laughing and Tanner pipes up next. “I’m with ya all the way, Cam. The best defence is a good offence.” He sets his fists up in front of his face and takes a couple jabs at Booker’s shoulder.

  “Lay off,” Booker bellows. “Vi, you might want to keep that wee babe in there as long as possible. It’s not safe out here. And, Camden, you do need to relax. We’re going to take care of Indie. She’s shadowing the team doctor, not giving sponge baths to the players.”

  I groan at the thought of all those players in the changing room. I’ve been in that changing room, I know what it looks like after a match.

  I exhale heavily and mope my way over to Indie. Flopping down in the seat next to her, she cradles my head as I rest it on the table in a proper pout.

  Last week was my first match, and this week she begins her job with Bethnal. We’ve only officially been together two months now, but I’m still dreading the idea of being away from her.

  She nailed a meet and greet with the team doc, just like I knew she would. Apparently she had over-prepared for the meeting and created some injury prevention technique plan for footballers. She blew the staff away.

  She is a bloody genius after all.

  Even though I’m pouting because this will give me less time with her, I couldn’t be more proud.

  Indie’s voice is determined as she interjects, “I think it’s good we’re going to have some time apart during your season, Cam.”

  My head pops up to look at her in horror. “What on earth does that mean?”

  Her cheeks redden. “You completely embarrassed the lot of us when you flew up into the stands and kissed me after your first goal as a Gunner last week. We really don’t need extra media coverage.”

  “That stadium kiss was well worth the ten thousand pound fine,” I state confidently, staring back at Indie and marveling at how it’s still fun to just look at her. Sometimes I can adjust my gaze the slightest bit and make her blush.

  She grins and blushes.

  I smile.

  “I didn’t completely hate it, I guess” she murmurs with a smirk and leans into my embrace.

  I press a tender kiss to her temple and move my hand between her legs under the table. “That’s called passion, babe. I thought you were a quick study.” I whisper the next bit into her ear. “Let me take you to bed and educate you again.”

  She bites her lip with a giggle. “I think I’m going to like sports medicine.”

  “Enough,” Vi chimes in. “I’ve seen enough of you two snogging to last me a lifetime.”

  Gareth and Booker both chuckle while Tanner says with a playful smile, “We can pull it up and watch it on Match of the Day highlights if you’d like.”

  “Not again!” Indie bellows, her face dropping to serious in two seconds flat.

  I smile lasciviously and recall the similarly horrified expression on her face last week. My brothers and Dad were all at their own prospective matches so she was seated with Vi and Hayden.


  It was a great day.

  It was the moment that I realised I love her.

  The roar of the crowd was deafening as I moved the ball down the Arsenal pitch. It was like there was an invisible string between my toes and the leather as I skirted past defenders left and right. I closed in on the goal and my pace halted as I pulled my boot back and shot. I clutched my hands into fists as I watched the keeper’s glove grapple desperately to get a single hair on the ball. When it slipped past him and touched the nylon netting, I no longer saw football.

  I saw red.

  A beautiful, vivacious, red-framed glasses-wearing redhead seated on the goal side just behind the place I sunk my ball.

  Before I could register what was happening, I was sprinting away from my teammates who were all trying to tackle me in celebration. I leapt over the security barricades, past the guards, and climbed up a long row of concrete steps.

  I could feel several fans giving me matey pats on my back as I passed them, but I had tunnel vision for my ultimate goal, who was wearing a red jersey with the Harris name on the back.

  As I approached, I registered that Vi was bawling huge, fat tears that I could see from a mile away as she clutched her shaking stomach. Hayden was laughing and holding her under his arm. Indie just looked mystified. Shocked. Disbelieving. My large presence in my kit with my boots clacking against the pavement stupefied my genius of a girlfriend.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, staring up at me as I closed the space between us and cupped her face in my hands.

  “Kissing my best goal on the lips.”

  “I think you mean best girl, you show-boating footballer—”

  I pressed my lips to hers.

  Scoring my first goal as a Gunner felt like a million pounds.

  Realising I love Indie Porter…felt like a billion.

  THE DELICIOUS SCENT OF COFFEE invades my sleep, rousing me in the way only a fresh cup can. I crack my eyes open and see a very sexy hand holding a very cute mug in my face. I smile and sit up.