“What do you mean?”
I gesture toward him helplessly. “You clearly have something to say, so you may as well say it.”
His lips roll inward, and it’s that moment I realize, I’m not gonna like what he has to say.
“I understand how you got caught up in this thing with Camden, especially if the sex is good, but you’ve been in love with Lexi for as long as I’ve known you. No matter how confusing this might seem right now, that’s gotta count for something.”
My teeth sink into my tongue, the validity of his words bitch slapping me in the face.
Lexi is all I’ve ever wanted for so long. She’s all the things I’ve ever pictured in a partner: caring, kind, and intelligent. Her sense of humor pulls me out of my head, making me smile and laugh as easily as breathing, and she always seems to know the right thing to say. She lets me be myself, without judgment or expectation, and understands me on a level I’ve rarely experienced before. So whywouldn’tI set aside what’s developed with Cam for all of that?
But even as I ask myself the question, I know the answer.
Because he’s all those things too.
These thoughts swirl in my head like an impending storm, cycling one after another in only a second, leaving me to stare at the screen in misery.
“I know you’re right,” I rasp, hating the words as soon as they leave my lips.
“Then what are you gonna do?”
My head falls to my hands, and I shake it, still warring with myself.
“I wish I fucking knew.”
Because while Cam may be all the things Lexi is, there’s one distinction I can’t overlook: He’s the embodiment of everything I hate—hockey, the legacy. I mean, he’s one of Oakley’s friends. My uncle is his coach, and Dad is practically in love with him too.
So choosing Camden? Wanting him?Lovinghim?
It defies everything I am. Everything I want for myself. Everything I’ve worked so hard to distance myself from for years.
And yet, here I am, feeling like there’s no possible alternative.
Twenty-Eight
Camden
“Thank you, Louis. Thank you so, so much.”
My agent laughs on the other end. “You deserve it, kid. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
I slump back in my driver’s seat when he hangs up, letting my skull thud against the headrest while I mentally replay the conversation I just had. Which might be the best news I’ve heard in my entire life.
Because Louis said there’s no world where I’m not playing in the NHL next season.
Well, maybe the AHL to start, but either way, it’s a step toward the future that I’ve been dreaming of. The one I wasn’t certain was possible after what happened earlier this school year.
Part of me feels like the past ten minutes on the phone with him was nothing more than a fever dream or a figment of my overtired imagination. And yet, as I stare at my phone, seeing the text where he asked me to call him, I know it’s real.
I’m getting drafted.
I don’t exactly know how it all works between agents and scouts and team GMs, but I do know I trust Louis. I trust that he wouldn’t tell me something like this without certainty. Sowhen he says there’s talk of me being drafted in the first two rounds, especially after the way I performed in the conference tournament this past week, I’m inclined to believe him.
And if that’s not enough—which it should be, considering goaliesnevergo that early—then his closing comments really sealed the fucking deal.
“I haven’t heard any more concerns about adding you to a roster, Camden. It’s like this whole video nonsense never even happened.”
The amount of relief I felt when those words came out? Fuck, I can’t even describe it.
