I smirk. “What’s up?”
I hear a huff expelled through the speaker. “What’s up? What’sup? Jesus, I’m going to punch you the next time I see you.”
The call transfers to my truck when I pull out onto the highway, so I toss my phone into the cup holder and keep my eyes on the road.
“We texted… a couple of times.”
Camila sighs. “One-word responses do not count as holding a conversation, contrary to what you think. I just want to know what’s going on in your life. I miss you. I worry about you. I’m a mother now; it’s literally woven into my genetic makeup.”
She’s the only person in my life who’s ever cared enoughtoworry about me.
That’s what always has the feeling of guilt weighing my stomach down like lead when I try to avoid the conversations, the questions. To push her away.
To not let her get any closer to the demons that are constantly waging a war inside my mind.
“Just been swamped with work, and I?—”
“Bullshit. I know you better than you know yourself. All you do is work, punch that stupid bag, half-ass sleep, and do it again.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Christ, Cam. Sum up my entire pathetic existence, why don’t you?”
I say it teasingly, but the truth, the one buried deep down that I don’t want to admit even to myself, is that since I lost my career, since I lost hockey almost entirely… I feel like I have zero fucking purpose.
I mean, fuck, I’ve spent my entire life working toward the goal of being a professional hockey player.
It saved my life.
It gave me something to believe in, something to hope for, something to hold on to when everything in my world was miserable.
That’s why I refuse to go out this way. To let anyone else dictate the way my career will end. If I’m going to retire, it’s going to be on my terms. I earned that. I fought for it. I deserve it after the decade I spent giving every ounce of myself.
Camila’s laugh brings me out of my head, and I blink, realizing that I’m driving, but I have no goddamn clue where I’m even going.
The streets are familiar, but it’s been so long since I’ve been here, everything looks different and the same all at once.
“I’m just saying. Wait… are you seeing someone?”
“What?” I grunt. “C’mon, Cam. You know me. The only thing I see is the back of a girl’s head when I’m fuc?—”
“Hey, hey,woahhhhh.” She balks. “There are little ears present, and ew. I do not even want to think about that because gross.”
It’s bullshit, but she doesn’t need to know that I haven’t touched anyone since I’ve been here except… Maisie.
And before her? I can’t even fucking remember.
“Actually, I was calling today not just to check on you, but because I have a favor.”
My brow lifts. Camila with a favor?
It’s been a long time since she’s asked anything of me. I mean, she could ask me to rope the fucking moon for her and Lily, and I’d do it, but it’s not something she normally does.
“Okay, what kind of favor?”
A moment of silence passes. “So, you’re probably going to want to say no to this, but I really would love if you said yes. If not for me, then for you.”
Fuck.
I already do not like where this is going.
