Cameron (Wild Men Book 7)

by Melissa Belle

  I keep my arm firmly around Savannah as we wait for the attendant to bring the truck around.

  “I’ll turn on the heat,” I say as I help her into the passenger seat and shut the door.

  As soon as I’m in the driver’s seat, I get the heat going full-blast, and then I lean over to make sure Savannah’s seat belt is on. Her eyes are closed and her face has gone pale. I run my thumbs across her cheeks.

  “This will be a quick ride,” I promise as I turn on the truck and pull out of the parking lot.

  We’ve only gone a block and a half before I have to pull over to the side of the road so Savannah can puke out the open door. I hold onto her waist so she doesn’t slide out and hand her a tissue from the glove compartment.

  “I’m so sorry.” She puts her head in her hands.

  I gently rub her shoulder. “I’m the one who’s sorry. The party sucked. This was a terrible date.”

  Her head snaps up and her green eyes flicker with gold. She leans toward me and…I don’t know what she was planning to do because she puts her hand over her mouth and turns to throw up again out the door.

  When she’s done, she rests her head back against the seat and groans. “Oh, God. I hate drinking.”

  I reach past her to pull the door shut. Savannah tips her head so she can put her cheek against the icy window, and then she closes her eyes.

  “I know the motion of the vehicle moving feels like shit when you’re drunk,” I say to her closed eyes. “Are you still nauseous?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m okay.”

  But before I can start driving, she keeps talking.

  “I have a dance class tomorrow at noon. I hope I’ll be able to make it.”

  I listen, the keys frozen in my hand because I can tell she’s letting me in on a piece of her life she keeps hidden at the rink.

  “You dance?”

  She opens her eyes. “Belly dance.”

  “Wow. That sounds really cool.”

  “It is. Usually.”

  “Not always?” I’m not sure where she’s going with this train of thought, but I don’t expect her to say—

  “Not tonight. A man grabbed my ass while I was performing.”

  “He did what?” Rage shoots through my body like an inferno. “Savannah, when? Before the fundraiser?”

  She makes a face. “Yeah. But I dumped his drink on his head, and he backed off. So it’s all good.”

  It doesn’t seem all good. Her eyes have gone cold like she’s deflated.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, knowing that no matter what I say, I can’t take away the pain. “I wish I could make him suffer on your behalf.”

  “Just you wanting to do that makes me feel better.” She giggles. “Maybe you can come to my class tomorrow. Not to dance…”

  I smile.

  “But we could go to coffee afterward. Like a date.”

  “A second date,” I say lightheartedly.

  “No, our first date,” she insists. “Tonight was not a date, Cameron.”

  She never calls me by my full name. Although I’m surprised how much I enjoy hearing it roll off her tongue.

  “Okay,” I say softly. “Tomorrow will be our first date then.”

  “Unless I’m too hungover,” she says almost to herself.

  “If you’re too hungover, I’ll ask you out for another time,” I promise her.

  She nods and then rattles off the address of her dance class. I type it into my phone and put the truck back into drive.

  Savannah’s asleep by the time I pull into her driveway. I walk around to her side and open her door. She shifts off the window and her head drops back against the seat. I say her name softly, but she doesn’t answer me. I unbuckle her seat belt, find her keys in her purse, put the purse over my shoulder, and pick her up in my arms.

  Remembering that the front steps were icy earlier tonight, I walk as slowly as I can, and when I reach the top step, I slide the key into the lock and open the door quietly.

  Once we’re inside the house, I have no idea where to go. The foyer is dimly lit, but the rest of the lights are off. I set off through the living room, looking for a hallway.

  I find one, but every single door leading off the hall is tightly closed.

  Not sure what to do, and damned if I’m going to mistakenly open the door to her mother’s room, I stop short.

  When a door on my left swings open, I brace myself to come face to face with Savannah’s mother and to meet her for the first time with her daughter drunk off her ass in my arms.

  But the woman who makes eye contact with me as she steps into the hall looks like she’s only a few years older than Savannah. Her light brown hair is up in a messy bun, and her eyes twinkle with amusement as she glances at Savannah.

  “I see my sister outdid herself tonight.”

  I chuckle. “She had a few too many. I thought I’d cut her off in time, but she snuck by me more than once, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s not hard to envision. My sister hates parties.”

  “So she said.”

  She nods at me. “I’m Molly. One of Savannah’s three older sisters. You must be the famous Cameron Wild. We’ve heard a lot about the new hockey star for the Cannons.”

  I brush off the teasing compliment with a grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Molly. Savannah told me you both live here with your mom.”

  Molly rolls her eyes. “Crazy, huh? Two independent women, and we haven’t left our parents’ house yet.” Before I can respond, she continues talking. “Vannah’s room is right there.” She points across from the door she just came out of. “I’ll trust you to tuck her safely into bed.”

  She says it lightly, but there’s a clear edge to her tone.

  I nod. “Of course, I’ll take care of her. You don’t need to worry, but I’d understand if you want to come in with me while I put her to bed.”

  She tilts her head, assessing me. “No,” she says finally after a few tense seconds. “I do trust you, actually. Not just from my own female intuition in meeting you but also from how you helped out Savannah the day you met. I don’t know what she would have done if you hadn’t come down the alley when you did.” She pauses, glancing down at her sister sleeping against my chest. “You’ll have to be extra careful with her, though.” She reaches out and tenderly brushes a stray hair off Savannah’s face. “A man already broke her heart into a thousand jagged pieces. I don’t think she could take it happening twice.”

  I’m so startled by the admission I speak without thinking. “Savannah had a bad break-up?”

  Is that why she’s so nervous around me?

  Molly’s eyes narrow. “The first man she loved and gave her heart to—the one man no child should be betrayed by.”

  Shit. She’s talking about their father. Something about the way she says it gives me chills, and the anger in her eyes…I swallow.

  “I’ve said too much,” she says and blinks, almost like she didn’t realize she was saying all of that. “Good night.” She backs into her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.

  I stand frozen for a second, and then I open the door Molly said led to Savannah’s bedroom. I step inside the dark room, turn on the lamp over the nightstand, and set Savannah on her bed. She immediately lies down.

  “Let me help you.” I pull down the covers and take off her heels.

  Her dress has got to be so uncomfortable to sleep in, but I’m not about to undress her. I glance over at her desk and notice a t-shirt hung over the chair. I pick it up and place it next to her pillow.

  “If you wake up,” I say as I cover her with the sheet and blanket, “change into this t-shirt. Okay?”

  “Okay, Cam,” she says, her voice filled with sleep.

  I sit on the side of her bed and take the pins out of her bun. Then I kiss her cheek. “I’ll never hurt you, Savannah,” I whisper. “Just give me a chance, and I’ll prove it.”

  She murmurs something incoherent in response, and I turn off her light and
leave for home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I knock the puck away from Wayne and skate toward the goal, not stopping until I’ve slammed the puck into the back of the net. Practice this morning has been long and heated, and we’re all about ready to throw somebody into the boards.

  Wayne tosses his stick in frustration, and I laugh as it skids across the ice.

  “Better watch your temper,” I say just to screw with him. “You don’t want to end up in the penalty box again next week.”

  “Fuck off, Wild.” Wayne grabs his stick.

  “We need you out there,” I tell him. “You know that.”

  “Good time to end practice!” One thing about Craig is he knows when to quit.

  We all head for the benches. I grab my skate guards and walk to the locker room.

  My dad’s already come and gone, so I don’t have to deal with his critiques and “advice.” And it’s early enough in the day that I can still make it to Savannah’s dance class.

  But I pause halfway to the lockers when I spot Bruce Levin sitting in the scorer’s box. I remember how Wayne said he’s the only staff holdover from when Savannah’s dad coached here.

  Last night’s conversation with her sister plays in my mind as I nod at Bruce and step inside the box.

  “How’s it going?” I ask him.

  He looks up from his laptop where he’s furiously typing. “Good.” He gestures to his laptop. “Trying to get down all the notes from practice. Coach wants a rundown.”

  “Right.” I pull up a metal chair and sit down on it backwards. “You’ve been working here a while, huh?”

  He chuckles. “Savannah was yay-high when I arrived.” He holds his hand about four feet off the ground. “I always tell her she’s my benchmark for how long I’ve been a Cannons’ staffer.”

  “And her dad was the coach then, right?”

  “Sure was.” He glances onto the ice. “Can remember him like he was still here.”

  “Savannah said she was skating young.”

  Bruce’s weathered face lights up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “She had these pigtails that stuck out from each side of her head. Her dad would shove a hat over them, but they’d still poke out from underneath. She was the cutest kid.”

  I smile. “I’m not surprised. So how well did you know her father?”

  All the mirth leaves Bruce’s face. “Well enough. Let me put it that way. You know, for his family’s sake, I hope he wasn’t as bad at home as he was at work. Although I’ve got a sinking feeling he was a lot worse. And Savannah—she took the brunt of it. And she never complained; instead, she took care of that man, I tell you. As screwed up as he was, she cared for him like he was worth something.”

  My stomach clenches as I picture Savannah as a little girl, dealing with a man our highly-esteemed staff member clearly has no respect for. I haven’t known Bruce long, but he’s a good guy. And if he disliked Savannah’s father that much, well…he sure as hell has good reason.

  Savannah

  I crack open an eye, and the pain in my head…

  “Oh, God.” I rest back against my pillows, trying to piece together last night.

  I pull off the covers and force myself into a sitting position.

  I feel like I’ve got a thousand pound weight on my head.

  At first I don’t remember why.

  When I do, I consider never getting out of bed again.

  The fundraiser. Uncle Fred. All those drinks…

  Could I have acted any less professional?

  What must Cam think of me? And did Mama see me drunk? I honestly can’t remember most of last night.

  I turn on my phone and skip over my father’s text to check my messages. I’m hopeful it’s Cam and pray he isn’t completely put off by me at this point, but I’m disappointed that it’s just Celie. Apparently Mama’s finally made an appointment with the lawyer. For tonight at six.

  Tonight seems awfully fast I text her back.

  You said you were in if I could get her to do it she responds.

  Saying you’re in to Celie is essentially making a blood promise. I don’t dare tell her I didn’t hear a word she said last night. And I can’t back out of being there for Mama as she works to unwind her life from my father’s for the first time.

  But I need to tell someone about that text.

  “I’ll be there with bells on,” I say when Celie answers.

  “Great. And bring Cam if you want support. I’m bringing Pru.”

  “Because he’s your husband!” I say.

  “Even so…bring him if it would help.”

  “I’ll see.” I pause. “So I got something last night.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t catch that flu that’s going around.”

  “No, not exactly. More like a message from a ghost.”

  “What do you mean, Vannah? Spill.”

  She starts cursing as soon as I tell her about the text from our father. “Coach McMann is asking to see you when the Caves come to town?”

  “Apparently.”

  “I can’t believe he contacted you,” she says slowly.

  “I know.”

  “He wants something,” Celie says, and my blood runs cold.

  The same thing occurred to me as soon as I read the text. Because my father doesn’t do anything without a reason.

  “If he does, I have no idea what,” I say. “He’s about to get married and have a son…what could he possibly need now?”

  “I don’t know. But when you do meet him, keep your wits about you, Vannah.”

  “How do you know if I’ll agree to it or not?”

  Celie laughs. “Vannah, I know you. You never said no to him in sixteen years.”

  I was a child when I last spoke to him or saw him. A kid.

  And now I’m supposed to be a woman. I’m supposed to be past all of this.

  So his text shouldn’t bother me.

  Except that it does.

  I glance at the clock for the first time. Shit. I have dance class in forty minutes. It’s a dress rehearsal for our next performance, so I need to wear my costume.

  “Let’s talk about this later, okay?” I say to her. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Clarissa’s already started warm-ups when I drag myself into the dance studio. I scoot into the back row and join the group of dancers.

  Fifteen minutes in, I’m dying. The more I sweat, the worse I feel. I thought exercise was supposed to help a hangover, but my headache’s just growing by the second.

  By the time class mercifully ends, all I want is a shower and my bed.

  I walk over to the bench to grab my bag, and then I step back in shock as I make eye contact with Cam. His eyes darken as his gaze slides down my body and back up.

  I flush with heat. “What the…”

  I take a closer look at him. Wow, Cam looks nice. Almost like he tried to look nice. I mean, he always looks hot, but his blue shirt is collared, his dark jeans fit him perfectly, and his damp hair is combed.

  He swallows. “You told me where you’d be. You said to meet you here for coffee afterward. On a date.”

  Oh, God. Last night. So drunk. What else happened that I don’t remember?

  Half the class has stopped packing up to watch us. I take Cam’s arm and walk with him out of the studio and into the front hallway.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says as we stop outside the door.

  “Really?” I smile. “Then why’d you walk in and do just that?”

  “I don’t honestly know.” His gaze travels down my body again. “I was just so surprised to see you like this.”

  “Yeah, well. This is my costume for an upcoming performance.” Unable to hide my hip-hugging stretch pants, I cross my arms over my silver-bead studded bra top self-consciously.

  “You look amazing,” he says. “I mean, not that you don’t always; you just look so…”

  I bite. “So…what?”

  “Sexy.” He grins that adorab
le, amazing smile at me. “Bet you didn’t expect that, huh?”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “Not really.”

  He reaches out and rubs my arm. “I feel bad about last night.”

  “You didn’t make me drink that vodka. In fact, I’m pretty sure you tried to stop me at several points.”

  His expression turns to concern. “You told me some guy grabbed your ass when you were performing.”

  Oh, no. I did not tell him that. I just hope I didn’t mention the text from my father.

  “Cam. Please let’s not talk about that. I took care of him.”

  “I’m proud of you for that. Doesn’t change the fact that I want to kill him.”

  I swallow as his dark eyes go black. “Look, I’ve been thinking about what I asked you. I’m having second thoughts.”

  “How come?”

  “Because it’s technically illegal for us to…engage in any kind of personal relationship. And I don’t want to get in the way of your career and what you’re building. Your stats have been off the charts, and you’ve literally gotten better each week. If you keep going like this, you’ll have your choice of where to go from here. And I know you said you want to quit, but what if you change your mind? I don’t want to interfere with any of that.”

  “Savannah…” he says softly before stopping.

  “What?” I try to read his face, but his expression closes down.

  He pauses before saying, “Who’s going to know?”

  “I would know, for one,” I say.

  “Look, I’ve thought this through,” he says. “After I dropped you home last night, I stayed up thinking about this. First of all, I’ll make sure no consequence of us being together ever comes back on you. You won’t lose your job, in other words. I’ll quit if need be, and we both know Coach Craig can’t have any player quitting on him mid-season.”