Crossing the Touchline

by Jay Hogan

  Cam seemed oblivious to the miracle he’d wrought. “That’s right, buddy,” he answered softly. “I like your dancing. Good moves.”

  Not satisfied with one miracle, a second was then rolled out. It started as a slight tug at the corner of Cory’s mouth before growing into what can only be described as a beaming smile. Gone in a flash, but definitely there. Sweet Jesus. I melted into one big, gooey mess on the rug.

  Cam watched me with a bemused expression. “I take it that doesn’t happen very often?”

  “You’d be right,” I answered, hearing the shake in my voice. I poked his chest with my finger. “You neglected to inform me of this superpower you apparently possess for getting shut-off kids to open up.”

  He grinned. “I live to serve. Not sure it works on shut-off, closeted rugby players, though.” He winked.

  Ugh. I blushed furiously. “Guess you can’t have everything.”

  He didn’t smile. “Apparently not.”

  We sat and chatted for a while about nothing much as Cory played, and it was easy to imagine us a normal family on a Sunday afternoon. A small part of me desperately wanted to believe in that possibility, but the chance of me having anything like this in the next ten years was a whisper away from zero, and that was being generous. And with that my mood tanked, and I needed to get out of there pronto.

  “I think it’s time I was heading off,” I said and started to gather Cory’s shit into the bag. “He won’t last much longer.” Yeah, blame it on the kid.

  “Oh, okay.” Cam sounded surprised but immediately set about helping me pack. He then sat with Cory, being careful with his movements and words while I loaded the stuff into my car. The kid seemed relaxed. I guess you didn’t run an ER without having mad skills and instincts.

  Packed and ready to go, I waited for Cam to stand so I could say goodbye. Leaving like this was a bit of a dick move, I knew, but I needed some space. “Thanks again for the coffee.” I held out my hand. “It was great. And you’ve been really cool about Cory so… yeah, thanks.”

  He frowned at my hand but took it and held on. “If it was that stupid comment about the closet… well, I can be a jerk sometimes. Shocker, I know.”

  I grinned. “It’s fine. I kind of deserve it.”

  “No, you really don’t. But there is something I want to tell you before you leave.”

  “Fire away.” If he’d forgotten he was still holding my hand, I wasn’t about to remind him.

  “If I’m out of line just say so, because I don’t mean to—”

  “Cam, spit it out already.”

  He sighed and finally dropped my hand. Damn.

  “Right. Well, I had some downtime in the ER last week, so I chatted with a couple of professionals I know… about ASD….”

  My brows peaked. “We don’t even know if that’s what—”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “I know. It was just so I could get up to scratch. Not exactly my field.”

  I still tensed. “What’s this about, Cam?”

  “I didn’t mention Cory or you—or us.”

  “Us?” I held back a smirk. “Thought there is no ‘us’?”

  Cam’s cheeks pinked. “You know what I mean.”

  Well, look at that. If sassy Cam was sexy as shit, blushing Cam was endearing and adorable and strangely weird at the same time. And being so worried about what I thought? Well, that was a subtle shift in power I found reassuring and, oddly… hot.

  He went on, “Don’t be mad.”

  Warning bells went off in my head and I threw out my hands. “Cam!” He shuffled his feet and sucked in a deep breath. Here it comes, I thought.

  “Well, I may have called in a favour with someone I know. Only if you want it, that is.” He stared earnestly at my face, gauging my reaction.

  I couldn’t help it; my gaze narrowed warily. If I had a fucking dollar for every do-gooder acquaintance or teammate who’d tried to give me advice on what might be wrong with Cory and who we should take him to for assessment, I’d be rolling in it. And it wasn’t if I didn’t have every freaking relevant website bookmarked from here to fucking eternity. But this was Cam, so I held my tongue.

  He’d seen my reaction, though, and bit his lip. “Thanks for not immediately punching me out,” he said. “I can tell it was a close thing, but my balls live to swing another day, apparently.”

  The grin slid over my mouth before I knew it, and I relaxed. “Idiot. Go on.”

  He sighed. “Look, I know how patronising this kind of shit can be. It’s like when people try to analyse my sexuality and gender shit… to me. As if they have any idea what it’s like to be a guy who wears makeup and… perhaps the odd silky undergarment….” He paused and held my gaze a long moment, chewing his lower lip and making sure I’d heard.

  Wait. What? And I was lost from the conversation just like that. Sweet Jesus. My mind was instantly littered with X-rated images that I most certainly did not need in there, all involving Cam’s nether regions in, oh my God, soft, slippery…. Holy fucking shit. My mouth ran dry and my dick sprang to attention like a freaking jack-in-the-box.

  The fucker smirked, and I knew he’d read me like a book, but he also looked… relieved, and I guessed I’d just passed some kind of test. Meanwhile Cory played at my feet as if the world hadn’t just tipped on its damn axis and dripped sexual innuendo all down the front of my shirt.

  “You so fucking did that on purpose,” I hissed. “Just to divert attention from your confession of unwanted interference in my life.”

  He grinned. “Did it work?”

  “One hundred percent,” I growled. “I’m gonna have to bleach my eyes just to get rid of the residual smut. Now quit distracting me and tell me what you’ve done.”

  He sighed, his expression turning serious. “I have a friend, Kelly, an occupational therapist. She does some fill-in work at the kid’s hospital with their developmental team. I told her in vague terms about Cory, and she offered to try and get a sit-down session with herself and maybe someone from the team—just if you’re interested, of course. It would be on an informal basis only, so if Craig didn’t agree to go, or to you taking Cory, you could talk to them on your own. He’s resisting, right?”

  I nodded. “Cory’s GP isn’t exactly on the ball either, and since Cory mostly functions okay, he’s slipping through the cracks.”

  Cam frowned. “Kelly did stress that the earlier you get help the better. She said too many kids go too long without help, and then get stuck in behaviour patterns that become more difficult to break. It can affect the rest of their lives.”

  I bristled. It was hard not to feel judged. “I do the best I can, Cam. He hasn’t even got a diagnosis yet, and it’s not an exact science, you know—or rather, you don’t know, actually. Anything. About. It.”

  His eyes flew open and he grabbed my arm. “Fuck, Reuben, I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t suggesting you weren’t doing everything you can. I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know anything about it. I just wanted to help.” He sighed heavily. “Shit, I’m such a jerk. Just forget about it.”

  Something pulled at my leg, and I looked down to find Cory running his truck up my calf. He smiled up at me in that formal way of his, and I remembered the beam he’d worn just minutes before, and how much I wanted that hardcore sunshine smile back. Fuck. I was being an oversensitive prick.

  I met Cam’s eyes more kindly this time. “It’s a day for jerks, it seems.”

  He said nothing.

  “It was a good idea,” I admitted. “So, this is me taking my head out of my arse and listening.”

  The weak smile he gave indicated he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he continued. “The waiting list for nonurgent referrals is months, but my friend thought she could swing you—and Craig, if he agrees—an unofficial earlier one, but it might only be with her and one of the others instead of the whole team. Don’t ask how. The woman has superpowers not to be fucked with.” His smile was more genuine now. “You might st
ill need a referral, but she can do that herself since health professionals and teachers can also refer, not just doctors. I know he’s not officially diagnosed, but Kelly says that’s not a requirement and they see lots of kids like Cory.

  “If Craig would take Cory himself, that would be the best option, obviously, but if not, maybe he’ll let you take Cory—or failing that you could go on your own. But you’ll still need a copy of the GP’s notes if you can get hold of them.” He paused. “I just thought it might be useful to you and Cory.”

  I was speechless, and touched, and… well, speechless. Craig was adamant he wasn’t screwing around with any more doctors. According to him there was nothing wrong with Cory that discipline and school wouldn’t sort out. If the GP wasn’t worried, he wasn’t; case closed. So I had a fat chance of getting him to go, the moron. But if I could go, even on my own…? Or, God, maybe Craig would even let me take Cory.

  My brother was an enigma to me. I sometimes caught him watching his son with such tenderness, I wanted to hug him and reassure him things would be okay, that we’d get through this together. Then he’d do something so dickish, like forgetting to pick Cory up or passing out drunk with his son unsupervised in the house, that I wanted to fucking kill him.

  It had never occurred to me to try to get an appointment without Craig or Cory. I actually had a medical power of attorney for Cory, something I’d insisted on after Craig had skipped town one weekend not long after Lisa died, leaving me with Cory and no idea where he’d gone, for how long or how to contact him. Turned out he’d been on a bender at a mate’s farm in Matamata. I’d spent the first day sure he was lying dead somewhere and the next two panicked about what to do about Cory if he didn’t come back.

  But I couldn’t use that power of attorney to force an assessment if Craig didn’t agree. For whatever reason, my brother saw me as the family’s golden child and was constantly bitching about my rugby and how I was an ungrateful little shit.

  I’d been quiet for a while and Cam was eyeing me like he wasn’t sure if I was going to punch him or kiss him. Little did he know that for the first time in forever, I felt like I wasn’t alone in the whole Craig-and-Cory disaster show, and barely shelving the kissing option, I pulled him into a hug. He tensed, then went soft in my arms. The apple scent, stronger with my nose pressed against his neck, drifted and lingered, and I took the opportunity to burrow in a little more. He didn’t seem to mind, leaning his cheek against my temple.

  I let go and stepped back. “That’s one helluva big favour, Cam.”

  He squirmed. “Yeah, well, I might have helped get her fruitcake mother—her words, not mine, by the way—into the best dementia unit in Auckland last year. Kelly was at her wits’ end trying to look after her and her twelve-year-old son while working full-time. The unit has the best programmes but the longest waiting list. An ex of mine was in charge there, and we’re still pretty friendly, so he pulled a few strings. End of story.”

  I tried not to focus on the ex part and just be grateful. Epic fail. The idea of someone sharing a bed with Cam, touching and knowing him that way? Fuck. The mere thought sent shards of jealousy ripping through me. Had they been in love? What happened? Who topped? WTF? I mentally smacked myself.

  “You don’t have to do anything with the offer,” he said, second-guessing my lack of response as concern. “It’s just that—an offer.”

  I nodded. “No, it’s a good idea, a really, really good idea. I’m gonna talk to Craig and try and swing it.”

  He looked pleased… and relieved. His shoulders dropped, those honey lips pulling up at the corners, tawny eyes glittering gold in the sun. Then with a flick of the jet hair, he dipped his head and studied me through lowered lashes. “I done good, then?” He smirked.

  I snorted. “Now who’s fucking cute? And that’s not a word I thought I’d ever use regarding you, just so you know.” He shook those silken locks once again, and my eyes caught on their drift against his neck, before returning to his gaze, lit with knowing.

  “Yeah. I don’t do cute very well,” he murmured, and I caught the flicker of a shadow pass through his expression. “My edges are a mite sharp for that.”

  I nudged him. “I kind of like that about you. You’ve got this whole badarse thing going on, mixed with the guyliner and the—oh my God—silk thing that we aren’t ever going to mention again. Makes you a bit of a conundrum, Cameron Wano.”

  He snorted. “I’ve been called many, many things in my life, but a conundrum is not one of them.” He shrugged. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “The biggest.” I heard the roughness in my own voice. “You’ve no idea.”

  His gaze levelled, pupils darkening, and I nearly creamed my pants on the spot. Dragging my eyes to my nephew, and away from the heat being generated by the man next to me, I ruffled Cory’s hair and made an earnest attempt to haul my brain up from my balls before the thing fell out my cock.

  “So, um… you can tell your friend that, yes, I’d be grateful if she could arrange something, and I’ll talk to Craig.”

  “Cool. And, um, I could set up a talk with a social worker for you, if you wanted, that is. If things are getting too bad with Craig.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, but thanks. One step at a time, right?”

  Cory tugged at my jeans. “Home please, Ruby?”

  “I love that he calls you Ruby,” Cam said. “It suits you.”

  “He always has. Don’t know why.” I held out my hand, and Cory latched on with a firm grip. “Yeah—home, kid. Let’s go.”

  He tucked his truck in his pocket. “Bye, Cam. Thank you.” It was said without looking up, but it was said, and I picked my jaw up off the floor for the third time that day.

  Cam handed me the rug, then squatted, keeping in Cory’s line of sight but not too close. “Goodbye, kiddo. Save a dance for me next time.”

  Cory seemed to consider that, then darted a glance Cam’s way. There and back like a whip crack, but there. “Okay.”

  Cam held out his hand. “Shall we shake on it?”

  I was convinced Cam had pushed things too far, so imagine my surprise when my nephew extended his hand a few inches, allowing Cam to grasp just his fingertips in a quick shake.

  “I’ll call when I hear something from Kelly,” Cam said, getting to his feet.

  “Great, and thanks… again.”

  Cory tugged on my hand to show he was done with the day already, and I let him lead us to the car. I congratulated myself for only checking out Cam twice before we left the car park. Okay, three times. So, sue me.

  Chapter Eight

  Cam

  TO SAY the last few days had been a clusterfuck was putting it mildly. Torrential rain, an absence of common sense, and a healthy dose of plain dickheaded stupidity had left the ER inundated with patients, and my staff struggling to cope. Add the fact that a third of my nurses were out with a virus that was busy taking down half of Auckland, and I’d spent more hours juggling patients of my own than actually running the ER. Even Michael had lost his cool, and I’d needed to boot the guy out to get a coffee and calm the fuck down before I shoved the man’s head down the sluice myself.

  Today being Friday, the end of said hell week, my desk was swimming in paperwork, and I was ready to bury the bodies of any number of medical shitheads who’d used my unusual lack of presence to fuck with my brilliant nurses. No one got away with that. And just now I’d spotted at least three patient complaint forms nestled in amongst the disaster atop my desk. Those alone would consume my attention for hours to come. Not to mention my eyeliner was smudged. Goddammit.

  Michael stuck his head into my office. “Hey, boss man, I’m off.”

  “Lucky you,” I answered, clocking the man’s tight black jeans and green button-down with appreciation. As usual the doctor looked like sex on a stick. Josh was a fortunate man. “You look remarkably hot for a guy who was knee-deep in projectile vomit and squirting bowels less than an hour ago.” I checked my wall clock.
“And even managing to leave on time. Going out?”

  “It’s called soap and water, arsehole, plus thirty bucks to get Adele to finish the paperwork on that kid’s transfer to paediatrics.”

  “You were robbed. Jerry would’ve done it for twenty.”

  He snorted. “Our new house surgeon would’ve done it for a blowjob, I’m betting, but sadly those days are behind me.”

  “Ah, young love.” I threw my pen on my desk and leaned back in my chair. “So how are you and the yummy dog handler? I feel like all I’ve seen of you the past four days is your back disappearing into a treatment room.”

  He blew out an exhausted sigh. “Tell me about it. We’re fine—great, even. I won’t say more because I see your eyes glazing over already. And enough of the yummy stuff, gorgeous. You had your chance and you weren’t interested… in either of us.”

  I grinned and waggled my manicured brows. “Very true. But a man can still appreciate. Especially when said man’s current sex life bears an uncanny resemblance to Moses’s time in the desert.”

  Michael’s brows bunched, and his hand covered his heart dramatically. “Tell me it isn’t so. Do we need to stage an intervention? How about dinner on the weekend and I’ll see if we can round up a date for you?” He grinned devilishly.

  I think I may have squeaked. “Don’t you dare. Besides, I don’t need your help getting laid, Michael Oliver. That’s not the problem.”

  He pulled a chair up to my desk, wearing an expression altogether too enthusiastic for my liking. “Ooooh, do tell.”

  I’m sure my eyes rolled far enough back in my head to check the whiteboard roster on the wall behind me. “Not. Happening. Hotshot. Now scoot. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  He checked his Rolex. The man was nothing if not a style queen.

  “I do indeed. A better man wouldn’t tell you that we’re off to Downtown G for a little bump ’n’ grind as a prelude to hot monkey sex, several times at least, in a hotel close by. It could last for hours… and hours.” He closed his eyes and gave a dramatic shiver.