by DC Renee
“More than football?” Amanda asked haughtily.
“Yeah,” I responded without hesitation.
“Holy shit, you really do care about her,” she exclaimed.
“It wasn’t obvious before?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah, it was. It is,” she added. “But it’s one thing for me to see it; it’s another thing for you to admit it.”
“I’ve never had any trouble admitting it,” I told her. She raised her eyebrow in response. “That was different,” I said. “I was trying to protect her from me.”
“And what changed?” she asked.
“You try fighting what you feel around Gen and see how long you last.”
“Fair enough,” she said with a thoughtful nod. “So what do you want from me?”
“You’re her best friend. Tell me what I can do to really be the guy she needs. To be the guy she can turn to for everything. No matter what I say or do, I can’t get her to believe she’s something special. I know it has to do with something that happened to her in the past in high school. I want to know everything about her. Even that. And I feel like if I knew, it would help me determine how to get to her.”
“Everyone has secrets,” Amanda told me. “Everyone has things they’d rather let lie in the shadows never to be seen in the light of day. It’s Gen’s right to keep those things hidden for as long as she needs them to be.” She must have sensed my disappointment at her words because she said, “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t know. I actually believe she should tell you everything and just live her life in the present and forget the past. Not for you,” she was quick to point out. “For her. Because I truly believe you mean every word you say. And I want her to be happy, and I think she can be with you.”
“She can,” I interrupted.
“Right. So honestly, my best advice is to continue doing what you’re doing. It’s working. You might not think so, but believe me when I say it’s truly working. She’s cracking and veering off course. Just be patient, and when the time comes that she does tell you, you’d better still mean every fucking word you told me,” she said; her voice turned hard as her words became bitter. “Because if you don’t and you hurt her again, I swear to God, the term ‘make your life a living hell’ doesn’t even come close to what I have planned for you.”
“I’d never hurt her,” I answered. “Never. At least not intentionally.”
“You truly think that, huh?” she said with a smirk as if she knew something I didn’t. “I think you really do, but that’s the very first thing you’ve said that I don’t believe. But I do believe you’d never hurt her—purposely—here on out.”
“If I hurt her before, I did it without realizing I had,” I told Amanda, not fully comprehending her words.
“Maybe,” she said, but the word didn’t sound convincing. “Either way, you have my vote. Just make Gen happy, and she’ll come around.”
I nodded, told her thanks, and watched her walk away feeling like two conversations had been going on at once, and I was only been privy to one . Nevertheless, I’d follow Amanda’s advice because what other choice did I have?
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Present
Genevieve
WE WERE LOSING. Not by a lot, but I could plainly see the frustration on the players’ faces. Heck, I bet the people sitting way at the top could see even it. It wasn’t that we were playing poorly. Cam had been on point, and the team was gelling well, but the other team was just doing it better. No matter what play was called, how it was run, how far Cam threw, it just wasn’t enough.
I wanted to comfort him, and the few times he glanced my way, I threw him an encouraging smile I hoped he could see.
“If you didn’t like him, you wouldn’t care,” Amanda said beside me. I wondered when she would grow tired of constantly telling me I liked Cam. I had a feeling the answer was never.
“I care about the team losing,” I responded.
“Oh, please. Since when do you care about football?”
“Since everyone knows I’m dating the star quarterback, and I don’t want to be blamed if we lose.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
It wasn’t like I hadn’t admitted I liked Cam. I actually did, and Amanda knew that clearly. It was just that Cam wasn’t simply Cam. He was a mix of two different people. And one of them was someone I hated. The good didn’t outweigh the bad in the instance.
I was thrown from my thoughts by a collective gasp. I had been watching the field, so I saw it happen. It just hadn’t seemed real. My mind replayed it in slow motion before it caught up with the rest of the world.
Cam had been sacked, which wasn’t abnormal in football. It was the hard hit he’d taken and the fact he wasn’t getting up that caused the dead silence around the stadium. Or maybe it wasn’t silent after all; maybe it was just my mind shutting out everything and focusing on Cam’s form lying on the ground. I was panicking, my body shaking at the thought he could be hurt.
“Get up, Cam,” I urged under my breath. “Get up, get up, get up,” I chanted as I clutched both my hands by my mouth.
“He’ll be fine,” Amanda said. “He’s just being dramatic.”
“Why isn’t he getting up?” I asked, my voice rising with fear.
“They’re probably telling him to stay down so they can check him out,” Amanda responded, but I could barely register her words. Cam was hurt, and he needed me.
“I have to go to him,” I said as I turned.
“Gen, this isn’t the movies. They’re not going to just let you rush to him on the field.”
“I have to try,” I told her. She simply nodded, and we pushed our way through the crowd together.
We made it all the way to the side closest to Cam, but Amanda was right—they weren’t letting us get closer—girlfriend or not.
“Cam,” I yelled as loudly as I could. “Cam, please get up,” I yelled louder. I doubted he could hear me, but what else could I do? I was helpless, utterly helpless. I hadn’t felt so powerless since high school. And what do you know? It was the same guy causing me to feel weak, but this time was different. This time, I wasn’t worried about me or my well-being, I was worried about his. “Cam, please,” I yelled again, my voice sounding desperate even to my own ears.
I wanted to watch to make sure he was okay, but at the same time, I couldn’t. “Get up, get up, get up,” I chanted once again as I covered my face with my hands to keep the tears at bay. I felt Amanda’s arm come around me in comfort.
“He’ll be okay,” she said. And then she gasped. I lifted my head in instinct.
Cam’s head was propped up, and he was staring at me as he slowly tried to get up.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed, and my tears broke free, my relief palpable as a sob escaped my lips.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” I responded, and even though I knew he couldn’t hear the words over the deafening cheers, I knew he could read my lips, and he smiled.
He pointed at the gate that led to the lockers. I nodded, and once again, Amanda and I fought through an overzealous crowd. When we got to the entrance, Cam was waiting for me. He must have told security to let us pass because I ran right by them and launched myself into his arms before thinking about whether I was hurting him.
He wrapped his arms around me as I kissed him fiercely. I needed to feel him at that moment to see for myself that he was okay; our lips mingled with the salt from my tears—just a hint of what had happened.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered.
“Just don’t do it again,” I said with a small smirk.
“I’ll try not to,” he said on a laugh right before someone called his name. “Got to go get checked out, Gen,” he said. “Doc did me a favor by letting me wait for you but seems like he’s getting impatient,” he joked.
“Go make sure that asshole didn’t scramble your brain,” I responded before kissing him one last time.
“You ke
ep kissing me like that, and I might have to get in a few more hits,” he teased.
“Not funny,” I responded. And then he had to go.
“I told you he’d be okay,” Amanda said as I walked back to her. “The real question is whether you are.”
And I knew she meant that in more ways than one. And the answer? No. No, I was definitely not okay. And it had nothing to do with Cam’s injury and everything to do with Cam.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Past
Cameron
One day earlier …
LOVE HAD SO many variations—love at first sight, growing to love someone, love as a result of tragedy … the list went on. You heard the stories, and you said good for them and assumed those people were looking for love and waiting for it to happen. But you know what was funny about love? It didn’t give a damn about what you wanted. You didn’t want to fall in love? It didn’t give a shit. You didn’t want to admit you were in love? It couldn’t care less. At least, that was how it went with me.
I cared about Gen more than anything I’d ever cared about in my life. I’d admitted that freely. But caring didn’t equate to love. I told myself I wasn’t going to love her for two main reasons. The first was that love hurt. I didn’t have to be in love to know that because my parents were a prime example. When my dad died, my mom couldn’t live without him. Look where that got her and me. In the end, she died too and left me broken. And the second reason was that even if I were to take a chance on love, no woman would love me back. Either they’d never know who I truly was—what kind of filth lived inside my soul, or I’d tell them, and they’d run for the hills. Therefore, they’d never actually love me—all of me. What was the point in giving your heart away if you didn’t get one back ?
So I would not fall in love with Gen no matter what. But like I said, love gave no flying fucks about what you wanted.
I’d just taken a nasty hit. It hadn’t been my first, and I doubt it would be my last. All I knew was I was lying on the ground, trying to open my eyes, and they weren’t listening to my commands. I wasn’t exactly panicking, but the more I tried to tell my body to get up and it wouldn’t respond, the more frustrated I got.
I could hear the team, coaches, and doctors around me—their words mixing like buzzing bees. I wanted to tell them to shut the hell up and give me a minute to figure it out, but of course, the words never left my mouth.
Okay, so maybe I was getting anxious.
And then I heard her voice. Over the loud noises infiltrating my brain, it was like my entire body—even my mind—was attuned to her, no matter what. “Cam, please get up.” It was like a song on the wind just reaching my ears. “Cam, please.”
Goddamn you, body, get the fuck up and listen to Gen, I urged in my head.
I’m telling you, my body was wired for her because, just like that, my eyes opened. The first things I saw were a bunch of guys who, although I loved, I didn’t care about at that moment.
“No, don’t move,” someone urged me as I tried to lift my head.
I ignored him. I needed to see Gen. I spotted her immediately, and when she looked up at me, and I saw the worry marring her perfect face, I felt like a giant ass for putting her through that. “I’m sorry,” I told her. And my words caused her tears to fall in great waves. And at that moment, my heart broke. It broke because hers was breaking. It broke because I’d done that to her, intentionally or not. I’d made her worry about me, a guy who didn’t deserve her fears, but got them nonetheless. It broke because the woman I loved was crying over me.
The woman I loved …
I could have been mad at myself. I could have been mad at love. I could have been a whole slew of emotions. But honestly, the only feeling I had was one I was surprised I’d feel if I ever found love—relief. It was like I had been crushed under a building all my life, and finally, someone got the rubble off me. I could breathe freely and without constraint. And I was no longer alone in the dark of the fallen beams surrounding me. Even if Gen couldn’t love me back, loving her was more than enough. It was simply right.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Present
Genevieve
CAM WAS OUT for the rest of the game, but it seemed like him getting hit had angered his team enough that they wanted retribution. They suddenly seemed like they had swallowed superhuman strength tablets, and it was enough to give them the win. Just barely, but a win nevertheless.
I knew Cam would be happy and proud of his team, but honestly, I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted to know he was okay.
When the game was over, the spectators left, the players went into the locker rooms, and Amanda and I waited for Cam to come out.
“What’s the verdict?” Amanda asked before I even opened my mouth. I was still worried about Cam. He’d been down and not moving for a few minutes. You never knew what could have happened internally. “You going to live? If not, I call dibs on your car,” she joked. Cam chuckled.
“I’m pretty sure Roger already claimed it,” he told her teasingly.
“Damn,” she said with a smile on her face. “All right, you crazy kids. I’ll let you two fawn all over each other. I’m off,” she said as she gave me a quick hug and left, making her way over to none other than Roger. I had a feeling she would get him to sign off rights on Cam’s car. And while she was at it, I’d bet she could get him to hand over his firstborn too. I laughed silently.
“Shit, I think I might actually feel bad for Roger,” Cam said as he glanced to see where I was looking.
“Oh, shut it,” I told him. I was leery to approach him. When I saw him after he had gotten up, I was so overcome with relief that I hadn’t thought twice about hurting him when I practically attacked him, but now that it had sunk in, I was afraid to touch him.
“Gen, babe, I’m fine,” he said as he took me in his arms. “Doc examined me thoroughly. Probably a little too thoroughly,” he tried to joke, but I wasn’t having it. “Look at me,” he said as he pushed back a little so I could look directly into his eyes. “Doc just told me to take it easy for the next couple of days, but otherwise, he said I’m cleared. I’m sorry I freaked you out, but there’s nothing to worry about, okay?”
“Okay,” I responded, but I wasn’t convinced.
“How about this?” he started when he could clearly tell I still needed some reassurance. “We go back to my place, order some food, and you can watch me like a hawk to make sure I’m not straining myself. Would that make you feel better?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I responded.
We went to Cam’s place, and instead of ordering in, I insisted on cooking for him. I wasn’t sure if he truly was all right or if he was just telling me that so I wouldn’t keep worrying about it. Either way, I figured a home-cooked meal was healthier than ordering takeout crap. I made soup, some chicken in the oven, a side of rice, and a small salad. Cam watched me work as if I truly was something special. “You’re a fantasy come to life; you know that, right?” he told me after I wouldn’t let him help for the fifth time. “Cooking and refusing to let me help. I think my friends would be jealous.”
“Yeah, well, none of your friends went down and wouldn’t get up,” I answered wryly.
“Gen, I told you I’m fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He seemed fine, but sometimes, external scars aren’t the ones to worry about. What if he had internal damage, what if it messed with his head and something was wrong and he wasn’t telling me? There were too many what-ifs for me to just take his words at face value.
It’s because you care about him. I could practically hear Amanda in my head, whispering that the only reason I’d be fussing over a guy I “hated” was because I didn’t hate him.
For the first time since she’d tried to drill those words into my head, I was starting to maybe believe them, and that wasn’t a good thing. It wasn’t a good thing at all. But I couldn’t worry about that then because I had a guy to take care of.
And it wasn’t because I cared. It was because I wasn’t heartless. It was because I was human and capable of empathy. It was because he had no one else to watch over him, and even the worst man deserved someone at his side. So that was how I reasoned my actions that night after we finished eating, watched TV, and talked about nothing and everything for an hour after I should have gone home but didn’t. I stayed over that night, making sure he was okay.
Nothing happened. Maybe a little bit of kissing, okay, maybe a lot of kissing, but that was the extent. He slept in pajama pants, his torso exposed, but with his body, I didn’t mind the sight or the feel one bit. I borrowed boxers and a t-shirt and slept with one eye open the entire night. Not because I was worried he’d try something, but because I kept making sure he was still breathing, which he was. He was out like a light while my brain wouldn’t shut off even for a minute.
You wouldn’t worry if you didn’t care…
“Okay, Amanda, you win. I care,” I whispered into the dark of his room. “So what? I’m bound to care, but that doesn’t change anything. He’s still who he is, and I’m still who I am. Even if I abandon my plan, that doesn’t mean we can be together. We can’t. Simple as that. He wouldn’t want to be with me if he knew who I was, and I don’t want to be with him knowing who he is. So where does that leave me?”
I looked over at Cam’s sleeping form, his chest rising and falling slowly with his even, steady breaths, his eyelashes fluttering lightly to the beat of whatever dream had taken over his mind. “Where does that leave me?” I repeated. Where does that leave me?
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Past
Cameron
Three days earlier …
GEN’S BIRTHDAY WAS four days away. Amanda had claimed the day—supposedly months ago—to spend an entire day at the spa together. And then she said there was no way in hell that I would “steal” Gen away for dinner. It was us together—and a few other friends—or bust. I knew not to argue with her, so I decided I’d have my own little celebration with Gen the night before. I figured she’d never expect it that way.