“Well, sort of.” Dawson barked out a bitter laugh. “They did arrest him. But then they released him, until the trial. And now it looks like that’s not even going to happen.”
“What?” Cameron’s incredulity felt good.Right. Like finally, someone’s mirrored Dawson’s own.
“I know, right? It freaking sucks.” The tall buildings were shadowing the sidewalks and Dawson shivered, wishing that he’d grabbed something more than just a sweatshirt.
“I can’t believe they wouldn’t even go to trial.”
“They keep telling me it’s just a white-collar crime. Like because nobody got hurt, it doesn’t really matter. They’re going to let him plea out, keep him on house arrest, which isn’t really even a punishment. Not when my money bought that house he’s going to be living in, all cushy and easy.”
“Shit.” Cam paused. “Someonedidget hurt. You got hurt, Daws.”
Maybe that was the biggest evidence of the ten years between them. Because Dawson felt the discomfort of that accusation crawling up his spine, but Cam said it like it was nothing, like it was perfectly okay for Dawson to admit to it.
The world hadn’t told him yet, over and over again, that it wasn’t okay to be vulnerable. Had never punished him for admitting to it.
“And it’s even worse than that. I think my lawyer and my agentwantthis plea deal to go through. They’re both so afraid I’mgoing to fuck up again I feel like no matter how I fight it, it’s inevitable that I will.”
Suck on that, world.
Cam stopped abruptly, jaw dropping open in shock. People on the sidewalk wove around them like they weren’t even there. And maybe, Dawson thought, they weren’t. Maybe this was a hallucination or a dream. Maybe he’d wake up any moment now.
“Daws, no,” Cam said fiercely. “No.”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s just how it feels. Like they’re so sure it’ll happen. Maybe it will. No matter how much I don’t want it to. No matter what I do to prevent it.”
“See, I know that’s bullshit. And you should know it, too.” Cam took a deep breath and finally started walking again, knocking his shoulder against Dawson’s. “You’re lights-out. You’ve always been lights-out.”
“Not always,” Dawson muttered.
“I know Duke was joking about this, but like, do youknowthe stats? I do. Doyouknow how many kicks you missed last season versus your norm?”
Dawson was sure at one point his agent had given him a rundown of the numbers, but he’d blocked it out. It hadn’t mattered to the team, so why should it matter to him?
He shrugged.
“Four field goals. You missed four more field goals than your normal, and they fired you. That’s . . .that’s fucked up.” Cam actually sounded really pissed in a way Dawson had never heard before.
“Huh.” Dawson hadn’t realized it wasthatfew. He’d seen the percentages, of course, though he’d tried not to think about what they represented. Now that he did, it was hard not to be even more pissed.
“It’s fucked up,” Cam repeated firmly.
“You’re good for my ego, that’s for sure,” Dawson joked weakly. “Got any more of this presentation you want to share with me?”
Cam stopped on a corner, waiting for the light to change. “Couple of YouTube montages I could send over,” he said thoughtfully.
“Uh, no, no. I’m good.” When Dawson looked over at him, Cam’s eyes were twinkling mischievously, and he had a feeling he’d be seeing those videos at some point.
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure.” Dawson rolled his eyes, but he felt warm inside in a way he hadn’t in a while.
“I could also tell you how hot you are,” Cam said.
Dawson’s heart raced in triple time, but before he could remind himself—or Cameron—how bad of an idea it was, even if it was just “fun,” he only laughed and added, “Don’t worry, I won’t. But it’s true, anyway.”
“Alright.” Dawson’s mouth was dry. “Guess you won’t.”
Cam shot him a look. Warm and questioning. “Nope. It’s a bad idea, right?”
