Challenge (36 page)

Her anger doesn’t scare me, though. It doesn’t intimidate me. It enrages me on behalf of myself and what Camden and I are…were. I won’t let her twist what we had together into some sick sadistic game I was playing with a patient. I won’t.

“Look. I’m no one, all right,” I begin, ready to unleash everything inside of me right now. “I’m no one except the one person who maybe looks at your brother a bit more objectively. I don’t see him as a footballer athlete. I see him as a man. A patient at first…but then, a man. A lovely, kind man who has more going on for him than football.”

“Football is his whole life—”

“I’m not finished!”
I nearly growl.

She closes her mouth.

“Everything I said to him was because he was alone and hurting. You guys are around him all the time, yet you don’t
see
him. You don’t see the fear he has. You don’t see the look in his eyes when I talk about inserting a scope into his leg. You don’t see that maybe the fact that your mum had two surgeries and still died in the end could be causing him some turmoil. You don’t see that a meeting with Arsenal at the hospital puts pressure on him when he’s already crumbling inside, because in his mind, he is
broken
! Vi, he’s been a footballer most of his life. He identifies himself with it. He thinks that’s all that he is. This kind of injury messes with more than just his knee.”

Silence stretches out and tears well in Vi’s eyes as she shakes her head back and forth. She attempts to speak but stops herself, covering her mouth to hide her emotions.

“But you’re not completely wrong here,” I say with a tender touch to her shoulder. “I have been completely unprofessional and could probably lose my job after all of this. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to turn me in. I deserve it. I deserve worse.”

She looks down and swipes haphazardly at her wet cheeks.

“But please don’t turn me in because you think I was trying to manipulate your brother. I wasn’t. I cared about Camden. I still…care.” The words ache in my throat like a tight knot that refuses to turn into a full-blown cry. “But he got confused about what we were. It’s probably my fault. I should have put a stop to it before it was too late.”

Vi moves toward me with a pleading look in her eyes. “Maybe you can get through to him? Make him see sense? I don’t know what happened between the two of you. He won’t say a thing and it’s killing me to not know.”

My chin wobbles at his loyalty. Despite me hitting him, despite me rejecting him twice, despite me having sex with him and then kicking him out, he’s protecting me. He could be bad-mouthing me all over London or cost me my job and I would deserve it. But he’s not. “I can’t tell you what happened between us. Just that I wish I were wired differently. Maybe if I was more like your family, things wouldn’t have gotten so complicated between us. I really do still care, though.”

Vi’s eyes are on mine and she gives me a small, imperceptible nod. “I didn’t see Cam.” Her voice cracks. “You’re right. I didn’t see.” She sniffles and wipes her nose with a huff of disappointment. “He’s my baby brother,” her shoulders lift. “I just want what’s best for him. Our family is unique, but you have to know it comes from a good place. Maybe we made some mistakes, but football isn’t just a game to us. It’s not our way of life. It’s what brought us back to life.”

“I actually know that,” I say with a heavy exhale and nod encouragingly. “Despite everything I said, Vi, I know that Camden loves football. I think he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t, but I saw his face at Tower Park that day. I know what it means for him to play with his brothers. To have you in the stands…or holding his hand before surgery. I respect your family so much. I envy what you guys have. It’s completely foreign to me, but to have that level of love and devotion in your everyday lives,” I huff out incredulously. “Your baby is going to be so lucky.”

A surprised smile spreads across her face as she touches her stomach. “It means a lot to hear that.” Tears well in her eyes again. “We don’t know any other way to be a family, you know?”

“Nor do I,” I reply quietly, feeling the sting of realisation overwhelm me.

She swallows and nods definitively. “I should be going. I’m sorry I came here and melted down like this. My Momma-Bear Ninja is strong.”

I smile, but her words don’t bring me comfort. They bring me jealousy. Acute, heavy, surprising jealousy.

She makes her way to the door and calls back, “Take care, Indie.”

“You, too, Vi,” I croak and turn my back to her so she can’t see my face crumple over the realisation that overcomes me in that moment.

“
C
AMDEN, WHAT IS ALL THIS
nonsense about you not wanting to have the surgery?” my dad growls into the line. “I can’t even believe I have to have this conversation with you.”

Sighing heavily, I turn the volume down on my earbuds and hit STOP on the treadmill. I could kick myself for answering, but if I didn’t, he would have stopped by. “Dad, this isn’t your decision.”

“You’re my son. I’m your father. How can you possibly think that I won’t have a say regarding this?”

“You’re my father? That’s a laugh.” I grab a hand towel and wipe my forehead.

“What on earth—”

“You’re my manager. That’s why you’re talking to me. Not because of fatherly concern.”

He harrumphs. “I seem to remember raising you. That doesn’t entitle me to being labeled your father?”

“I think you can thank Vi for some of that.”

“Damnit, Camden, I’ll drag you to that hospital myself if I have to.”

“Great, I look forward to it,” I bark.

“Did that meeting with Arsenal really mean nothing to you? Good God, it’s what we’ve all dreamed of for ages.”

“No, it’s what you’ve dreamed of for us. I don’t know what the hell I want anymore.”

“Camden, you’re just scared. An injury can mess with your mind. Stay focused, Son.”

“I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do!” I roar into the mobile, tipping over the edge completely. “I’m not letting you all back me into a corner. I have my own bloody mind and no one is pushing me around anymore. It’s over. I’m not having the surgery on Monday. End of.”

His heavy sigh is trembling with barely contained anger. I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment. In a flat voice, he says, “You’re making a mistake.”

“At least it’s mine.” I push END on the screen and yank my earbuds out before I chuck my mobile to the corner of the room.

I bend over to snatch up the whiteboard marker off the floor and scrawl out yet another pun on the mirrored wall of our gym. It fits well with the other puns I’ve been writing as they continue to slither into my brain unwelcomed:

Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.

Every calendar’s days are numbered.

Marathon runners with bad footwear suffer the agony of defeat.

I can’t seem to stop punning, no matter how hard I try. Or how embarrassing it might be. Tanner and I usually write inspirational quotes on the mirror to help us stay focused during our home workouts. Writing depressing puns doesn’t seem to have the same effect. I read my latest one another time:

To write with a broken pencil is pointless.

I can thank my dad for the inspiration behind that one. What I’m seeing in the mirror these days doesn’t impress me. I glare at myself, poking the six-pack on my stomach. I used to take pride in looking this way. I used to marvel at the results years of hard work and training afforded my body and my lifestyle.

But right now, I just don’t give a shit.

I grab a large exercise ball and sit on it, bouncing to get my bearings. It’s been three days since I decided not to have the surgery. I’m surprised my dad waited this long. He probably hoped someone else would talk me out of my decision. Vi is convinced this is all happening because of a broken heart, which is ridiculous because the only thing Indie Porter gave me was a much needed wake-up call.

For someone so inexperienced with men, she knows how to blow a guy off rather triumphantly. After dancing with her the other night, everything felt different. If I could get it in my head that I wanted Indie more than I wanted football, my priorities were obviously fucked. So I’m done letting everybody take what they want from me. I’m done being a bloody show pony for football, for the hospital, and for Indie. I’m so fucking done.

Plus, if I don’t have the surgery, I don’t have to deal with any of it.

Especially Indie.

Shaking my head, I lean back to do some crunches and attempt to drown out my thoughts. Just as I get started, I hear a voice down the hallway that makes me freeze mid-crunch.

“Look, I can text him and tell him I’m here and then this conversation will be over, or you can make this easier by letting me in to talk to him. You buzzed me up here, so I don’t know why you’re wasting my time.”

“How do I know you’re not going to inject some Jedi mind tricks in him like the other night?” Tanner’s voice sounds defiant like a child.

“I didn’t mess with his mind!”

I stand up to look out the door. I see Tanner at the end of the hallway, but I can’t see
her
.

“Prove it,” he jeers.

“Tanner,” I bark.

He jumps, momentarily surprised by my voice. Then he holds his hand out to stop me. “Cam, don’t sweat it. I’ve got this.”

“I appreciate the bro barrier, but I can handle it.”

He narrows his eyes and pauses for a beat. Finally taking a step back, he indicates with his hand for her to come through. I try to prepare myself for the sight of her, but it’s useless.

Actually laying eyes on her is like a bolt of lightning. In an instant, I remember how she feels. How she tastes. How she adjusts her glasses when she’s nervous. I remember the snappy look she gets in her eyes when I’m being a smartarse. I remember the heated colouring of her cheeks when she gets turned on. I remember all of that with a thunderous punch against my chest like I’m being resuscitated.

She’s dressed in her blue work scrubs. Her hair is a wild mess on top of her head. Her name badge is still connected to her breast pocket and standard black frames rest on her nose.

She looks gorgeous.

Her eyes drink me in, too, probably because I’m shirtless and only wearing a pair of athletic shorts and trainers. I feel mildly grateful when it seems hard for her to look at me.

“Can we go to your room and talk?” she asks, adjusting her glasses.

I can’t stomach the idea of being in my room with her again…so close to the bed where I first touched her. I tear my eyes away and reply, “No, but you can come in here.”

I turn and walk back into our small gym, grabbing the exercise ball and flopping down onto it. I immediately regret the decision to bring her in here when I see her reading the puns on the mirror. Her mouth opens like she wants to say something. Just as quickly, her jaw shuts when she stops at:

Show me someone in denial and I’ll show you a person in Egypt up to their ankles.

Jaw taut, she twirls on her heel to face me, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nice to know you’ve been talking about me to your family.”

My face remains flat. “I haven’t said any more to Tanner than what he knew before.”

Her brows lift. “So he’s that friendly to all the girls you bring home?”

I huff, “I’ve never brought any other girl here.” I bite my tongue as soon as the words spill out. She doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t deserve to know that everything I did with her was unique.

She fades away for a second, clearly lost in her thoughts.

“Did you come here for a reason, or just to get in a row with my brother?”

“I had a nice chat with your sister yesterday.” My head juts forward like I couldn’t possibly have heard her right. “She came by the hospital and told me you’re not going to have the second surgery.”

My family’s constant need to meddle has reached new heights. “Sorry to mess up your plans,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

She scoffs, “My plans aren’t important here.”

“Oh please,” I hiss. “This surgery was going to be huge for your career. I’m not a dumb jock, Indie.”