Sara had this funny breathing sound she made when she was sleeping that was like a fluttery little hum, and her breaths tickled my chest and neck with each exhalation. Every night since I’d been staying at her house, I would lie on my back and she’d drape her body over me, anchoring herself with her legs on either side of me because it kept her from rolling into overly painful positions in the night.
It also kept me in a near-constant state of both arousal and hyperawareness, at least as far as she was concerned. I knew every breath she took. I could feel the beat of her heart against my chest. Sometimes the fast-paced movements of her eyes when she fell into deep sleep were enough to catch my notice, since her face was usually pressed tight to the sensitive skin of my neck and her lashes would tease my skin so much that I nearly laughed out loud from the delicate touch. I could sense when she’d been in the same position for too long and was in too much pain to move herself, and I knew the precise moment she would start to wake up.
More than anything, I knew the sensual expression in her eyes just before she would kiss me. I knew that one so well it would undoubtedly haunt my dreams during the team’s upcoming road trip, because she kept waking up and putting her lips to mine before either of us really knew what was happening. I knew better than to complain about that—I would take her kisses anytime and any way she wanted to give them—but there was a part of me that wished she would kiss me sometimes when she was fully aware of herself and what she was doing. I needed to know that she wanted it as much as I did, and so far the only time she would initiate a kiss or a touch was when she was still half asleep.
Maybe soon, though. She was coming around to me in more ways than I’d expected. I kept reminding myself to be patient because her whole world was in upheaval right now.
It was a little while after the sun rose the next morning when I felt the soft brush of her eyelids teasing the spot just behind my ear, signaling that she was beginning to rouse. She wasn’t fully awake yet when she slid her hands up my sides and murmured something in her hazy, sexy dream-voice about Captain America’s chest while her fingertips explored the skin and muscle lining my ribs.
I laughed out loud, which jostled her awake. She lifted her head and glared at me. “What’s so funny?” she grumbled.
“I think you just called me Captain America.”
She blushed—something Sara Thomas never, ever did. She didn’t get embarrassed. She was usually too confident for that, too sure of herself and everything she did.
I couldn’t resist teasing her about it even more because her discomposure was so rare and she was so beautiful despite it. “I’m Canadian,” I said. “Captain America doesn’t exactly work.”
“Fine. You can be Thor, then.”
“Um, no. I think Captain America fits better. Canadians are practically Americans. At least that’s what Americans like to think. I’m not so sure about the whole Asgardian, alien-race thing.” Besides, Thor was a cocky ass, and I didn’t want to think of myself that way.
“Oh, shut up. I’m not ready to be awake yet and I’m not allowed to have coffee.” Ever since her first doctor’s visit, she’d been acting surlier than was called for about having to forego her morning coffee, especially considering the fact that I didn’t get the impression she was going through caffeine withdrawals. It was more that she really enjoyed having a cup in the morning as a way to start her day than that she really needed it.
I couldn’t bring myself to mind her hostility over the coffee ban, though. Mainly because she was so fucking cute when she pouted that I just wanted to kiss her on the end of her nose. In fact, that’s exactly what I did.
As soon as I backed off, she tugged a pillow from behind my head and whacked me with it, but then she immediately groaned. She must not have been thinking about her ribs when she did it—a good sign, really, because it meant in general terms that her body was starting to heal.
“Did you hurt yourself?” I asked, easing her off me and onto her back so I could tend to her. I kept my weight on my elbows so I wouldn’t crush her as I leaned over her, brushing her hair back from her face.
“Yes. Damn it.” There wasn’t a tear to be found in her eyes, though, so the pain couldn’t be too bad.
Her sulky mouth looked so damn kissable that I couldn’t resist, even though, yet again, I was the one initiating it. I had to have a taste of her. She parted her lips almost the instant mine touched hers. I forced myself to keep the kiss light and playful, to not take it as deep as I wanted, but God, that was a kind of self-inflicted torture I didn’t think it was possible to really be prepared for.
“Better?” I asked when I managed to pull away.
She didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Her pout was gone, and in its place was a heated look that would melt my flesh if I didn’t get up and get started with my day.
I rolled off her to do just that, and she turned onto her good side, as though to come along with me.
“Cam?”
My legs were over the edge of the bed, my feet on the hardwood floor. I stayed like that, waiting for her to continue with her question before I got up, but she stayed quiet. “Yeah?” I finally said.
“I don’t know how or why this has happened, but I’m going to miss you. When you’re gone. I don’t want you to leave.”
I’d been waiting to hear that or some variation of it from her for a while, but for some reason it didn’t feel as good as I’d imagined it would. Maybe because she didn’t sound like she was happy about it. In fact, she sounded completely, thoroughly dismayed by the idea that she would miss me while I was gone.
That wasn’t even in the same ballpark as me telling her I was falling in love with her. But then again, it was something. And this was Sara. I should take what she’d give me and be happy about it.
“I’ll miss you, too,” I said after a moment. Hell, I missed her already, and she was still in the same room as me. I bit my tongue before I screwed this up by telling her that I loved her—really loved her, not just that I thought I might be getting there. She was still grappling with the fact that she liked being with me. If I pushed too hard, she would push back even harder.
Could I be pussy-whipped like Nicky had claimed if I wasn’t getting any? I was starting to think that was the case.
WHEN I CALLED Chloe that afternoon to tell her about my relationship with Sara, she admitted how serious her relationship with this Dylan guy was. I already knew at least some of that because Mom had clued me in, but it was good to hear about it from her.
She went on and on about how he was so good to her, how he treated her like she was a princess. He had damn well better treat her at least that well or else he would have to answer to me. Chloe knew all of that, though, and so I was left to wonder if he really did treat her as well as she claimed, or if she was just trying to mollify me so I would be more likely to approve of him when I finally got to meet him.
“He makes me want to be a better person,” she told me at one point during our conversation. “I like who I am when I’m with him better than who I am without him.” That was possibly the one and only thing she could say to me that would really sway my opinion of him. That, more than anything else, made me feel good about it. At least until such time as I met the man and could form my own opinions.
But then the thought struck me that love should be like that. Was I a better man when I was with Sara? Did being with her make me want to be better or make me like myself more? And did I do the same for her? That was something I was going to have to spend some serious time thinking about, and sooner rather than later. We were too far into this for me to start to look backward and question what we ought to be together, now that Scotty thought I was the father of her baby and we were pretty much living together.
When the topic switched to my romantic life, Chloe might have been even more excited about my being in a serious relationship than Cadence had been, and that was saying something. She literally squealed in my ear multiple times, particularly
when I confirmed that Sara was pregnant.
“Are you going to get married? Of course you’re getting married,” she said, and then kept talking over herself without letting me get a word in edgewise to tell her that we weren’t even close to talking about marriage.
Earlier, when I’d talked to Mom and Corinne, they had both suggested that all of them—even Dylan—could come to Portland to see the Storm’s next home playoff game and meet Sara, and so that I could meet Dylan. I wasn’t sure that was such a hot idea, but convincing those four women of anything when they already had their minds set on something else was not exactly the easiest thing to do.
That didn’t mean I should give up. I tried again with Chloe. If I could get at least one of them to see things my way, it would be easier to convince them all that I was right. I had to get someone on my side, though, and I didn’t really care who. “So has Mom mentioned the idea of all of you coming down to Portland this weekend to you yet?”
“Yep. Dylan’s already working on getting Friday and Monday off, hopefully Tuesday, too, so he can come—”
“He really shouldn’t take time off work for this.”
“Cam, your team is in the playoffs. The Stanley Cup playoffs. For the first time in the history of ever.” She was using the ugh-you’re-an-idiot voice that she usually reserved for Cadence and definitely never used on me. “We’re coming.”
“But you and Cadence have classes, and Mom and Corinne and Dylan all have jobs—”
“And you’re our brother, and this is the biggest thing to happen in your life.” She let out an exasperated sound, and a car horn honked in the distance.
“Are you driving?” The image of Sara slumped over the steering wheel of her mangled car smacked me in the head, and I had to fight down bile. That was a different situation. Just because it had happened to Sara, that didn’t mean it was going to happen to Chloe.
“I’m on Bluetooth. Don’t change the subject. I don’t have any classes on Fridays ever, and I haven’t missed a single class all semester. Cadence has Monday off for a teacher in-service day, plus she’s got her tutor who travels with her for figure skating competitions. He can come with for this, too, if needed. Mom and Corinne have some vacation time they’ve been saving up for exactly this sort of thing, and Dylan wants to meet you sooner rather than later.”
“If I was actually going to be playing it would be different,” I reasoned, ignoring the fact that all of her arguments made sense. “I’m going to be in the press box.”
“Would you knock it off?” she nearly shouted at me. “You never fight with any of us if we take time away from work and school to support Cadence at one of her competitions. Why should it be different just because it’s you? And the fact that you won’t be playing? Doesn’t matter. It’s still your team. We still want to be there for you. By Game Six, it might be the last playoff game you’re involved in. Or it might be the one that gets the Storm to the next round where you will get to play again, finally.”
She let out a frustrated sigh, and I could picture the look on her face because I’d seen this very look so many times over the years. Without a doubt, she had her brows pinched together and her lips turned down, and she was trying her best to scowl. None of my sisters could ever pull off a scowl, though. There was too much sweetness in them for it to come across as believable.
“Cam,” she said finally. “You know it’s not just about the game. That’s not the reason we want to be there. That’s not what I was talking about when I said it’s the biggest thing in your life.”
And that only made my heart jump up into my throat and lodge itself there. “But this thing with Sara is too new. I don’t want to scare her off by having all of the other women in my life descending on her. Not yet.”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes.” I had never been able to lie to any of my sisters, and I wouldn’t want to lie about something like this.
“Does she love you?”
That was the million-dollar question. “I don’t know.”
“Then that’s all the more reason for us to come. If she can’t see what a good man you are, then she doesn’t deserve you.”
“That’s not the issue.” I didn’t think it was, at least.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just…complicated.”
“Complicated?” Chloe sounded dubious. There was some interference on her end for just a second, and then I heard the distinct sound of her car door closing. Good. That meant she wasn’t driving any longer, at least.
“Yeah. Complicated,” I said.
“Sounds like you need us to come and un-complicate things for you, then.”
I heard a door close, followed by the very distinct sound of a kiss. “I’ve got to go,” I said, quickly putting an end to the call. The last thing on earth I wanted to do right now was listen to Dylan making out with my sister.
DANA AND MRS. Campbell had come to stay with us while Cam and the rest of the team were in Vancouver. I’d done my best to convince them that they didn’t need to be here overnight, that it wouldn’t be a problem at all for them to spend that time back at Zee’s house, but my arguments fell on deaf ears.
“And what good will that be if something happens to one of you in the middle of the night?” Mrs. Campbell had demanded. “There’s no point in having us halfway across the city when we can be right here.”
“Besides, this will give us more time for wedding plans,” Dana added, prompting Daddy to excuse himself so he could go look for something in his office.
Honestly, though, my father and I were both getting to where we were doing a lot better. We both improved every single day, but it was starting to feel as though the people helping us were trying to hold us back from fully improving. Maybe it was just me who felt that way, but I was getting frustrated.
Daddy had been doing more on his own each day and would soon start walking slowly on a treadmill since his recovery was progressing so well. As for me, it still didn’t feel good to get up and down on my own, but I was fighting through the pain so I could do it, and I’d begun walking some laps of my own through the living areas when they weren’t fussing over me and keeping me down. Mainly because I couldn’t stand the thought that Daddy could do more than me. He’d just had freaking open heart surgery. I’d only had a stupid car accident. I should be able to do more than him.
I’d turned it into a bit of a competition between the two of us, actually—not that I had let him or anyone else in on that fact. If he knew we were competing, then he would start to push himself harder than he really should be at this point in his recovery, and he might suffer a setback or two. If any of the others figured it out, they would likely try to put the kibosh on it and make me stop. That said, as long as I kept it to myself, it was good motivation for me to push beyond what I thought I was ready for, beyond what felt good.
After the guys left for their flight, Dana, Mrs. Campbell, and I spent all of Thursday together going over invitations and thank-you cards and other design elements for the wedding. I was starting to realize just how imperative it was that Dana’s mom was as involved in the planning as she was, since she could give input for one party of each of the two couples. Plus, she had great taste. That was a definite bonus.
That evening, Dana and her mom were in the dining room, still looking at the different types of paper for the invitations, and Daddy turned on the TV in the living room so he could watch the Coyotes-Kings game—Have to stay on top of the team the boys will face next—so I went into the kitchen to fix myself a snack. I’d gone the whole day without any nausea—the first time that had happened in a long time—and I figured it was as good a day as any to indulge a little. I’d just taken out a tub of strawberry cream cheese from the fridge to spread on the bagel I had toasting when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and saw a text message from Cam.
Can we talk without everyone hearing? There’s something I need to tell you in private.
It didn’t seem like a good idea to take a chance, though. A lot of the things he’d done lately had taken me completely by surprise. I wouldn’t put it past him to shock me again.
Me: Later? There’s still a lot going on here.
Cam: Call me when you’re alone, no matter what time it is.
Me: Okay. Give me an hour or so.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and got the bagel out of the toaster, focusing on my snack and pushing all thought of Cam’s cryptic text message from my mind. When I finished putting together my food, I took it with me over to the table so I could put in my two cents on design ideas every now and then. We got so caught up in discussion that we almost didn’t even notice Daddy’s occasional curses at the TV screen.
We’d been at it for quite a while already when Mrs. Campbell said, “I don’t think you should settle on colors for the invitations until you’ve settled on the colors for the wedding itself. Don’t you want it to match?”
Dana looked up at her mother, her mouth set in an O.
“Good point,” I put in. “You’ll finalize all of that on Saturday when you go dress shopping, right? So by early next week, we can settle all of the details for the invitations and thank-you cards and get that order put in. That’s still plenty of time.”
“A few more days shouldn’t be a problem,” Dana murmured, but I could practically see the lists flying through her head of all the things they were going to have to finish up in the next few days. Her mother was only staying through the middle of next week.
“Good,” Mrs. Campbell said. “We can call it a night, then.”
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