“Fuck, Cameron,” Maddy says, sniffling a little as a tear slides out of the corner of her eye. She bats it away impatiently. “Don’t you know I’m a redhead with an entire family right inside those doors? I get all blotchy and red when I cry, and I won’t be able to hide it because I can’t hide anything from those nosy bitches.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I wish you were here. I wish I could kiss the shit out of you and then completely violate you. Respectfully.”
I bark out a laugh. “Disrespect me, baby. You know you want to.”
She groans. “God, I really do. But also, just…thank you.”
“For what?”
Maddy shrugs. “I don’t know exactly. For being you?”
“Lowry, where the fuck are you?” Before I can say anything else, Coach Campbell’s irritated voice fills the locker room and then he appears, hands on his hips and sporting a world-class scowl. “Unless someone is dying or dead, put the fucking phone away and get out on the damn field. Did you perhaps think warm-ups didn’t apply to you today?”
I wink at Maddy. “Sorry, Coach. Be out in a minute.”
He practically glares at me. “You’ll be out in thirty seconds,or I’ll have you doing up-downs at practice on Wednesday until you either throw up or die. Either one is fine with me.” Without waiting for a response, he storms out of the locker room, and I stand from the bench, grabbing my helmet from my locker.
“Uh oh,” Maddy says with a grin. “Someone’s in trouble.”
I grin back, too in love with this conversation—with her—to care. “Worth it. Gotta run. Eight hours, Wildcat. And then you’re mine.”
“Go win a football game, Cameron. Winners get rewards.” The look she gives me is so scorching hot that I have to clench every muscle in my body to keep from getting hard.
“Baby, I miss the shit out of you. I can’t wait to have my tongue on your clit and your tits in my hands. Maybe you can scratch my back some more. I love it when you leave marks.”
“Shit,” she mutters, shifting on the couch. “Now that’s all I’ll be thinking about for the next eight hours.”
I flash her another grin. “Just the way I like it.”
We hang up, and I jog out of the locker room and onto the field, warming up and winning a football game, thinking about Maddy the whole damn time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CAM
Ijolt at the crack of thunder, my living room windows practically rattling with the force of it. Rain lashes against the glass and panic wraps its icy talons around my spine, squeezing tightly and refusing to let go.
“Dad!” Riley yells from the kitchen, just as the thunder rumbles again and the sound of Ethan slapping pucks into his hockey net filters up from the basement. I grit my teeth, my brain struggling to process all the noise through the unyielding grip of my anxiety.
Noise means they’re here, I remind myself.
They’re fine.
They’re safe.
It’s just a storm.
If only I could get my brain to believe it.
My fingers itch to grab my phone and text Maddy, to make sure she’s somewhere safe too. It’s the Renegades’ bye week, and I was looking forward to a rare lazy Sunday with my kids. But an uncharacteristically warm mid-December day and a cold front approaching from the north meant the weather had other plans,and now I wish I had asked Maddy to come over and be lazy with us. Because it feels like this is where she belongs, but also because the thought of not knowing where she is while the storm rages outside makes me want to jump out of my skin.
I shove my hand into my pocket to grab my phone but immediately pull it back out. I’m a grown fucking man and I should be able to handle this shit. Maddy has already seen me in the middle of one thunderstorm-induced panic attack. A second one feels like a step too far.
“What is it, Ry?” I ask, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.
She pokes her head into the living room. “Waffles, remember? You promised us Sunday waffles. I plugged in the waffle iron to heat up, but you have to do the batter. You do it best.”
“Ouch, Ry,” my mom says with a grin, coming up to stand behind Riley. I told her she didn’t need to come over today since it’s a Sunday during the season when I’m actually home for a change, but my mom does what she wants, and now I’m glad for it because it means I know she’s safe too. “I thought I made the best Sunday waffles.”
Riley shrugs, tilting her head back to look at my mom. “Sorry, Lola. You make the best Sunday waffles when dad isn’t here, which is most of the time. When he’s here, his are the very obvious winner.”
