“I don’t think it’s possible foranyoneto hate you, Cam. And I think your relationship with Logan proves it, because I’d bet my life there’s nothing that kid hates more than hockey players.” Hesqueezes my bicep, drawing my attention back to him, and I find the deepest sincerity in his eyes. “I think it’s weird for Oak to see you two together, yeah. But for what it’s worth, I think that’d be the case with you and Logan dating anyone,not just each other.”
I nod, because in a way, I get it. It’s a lot like the way all of us looked at Oakley and Quinton getting together.
As if reading my mind, Quinton motions toward Oakley and says, “Look at me and his brother, you know? We don’t make any more sense on paper than the two of you do. Sometimes what makes sense isn’t always how things turn out.”
“Yeah, well…” I shake my head, an ironic laugh slipping out. “I dunno. I think it’s a little soon to make that comparison.”
“Is it, though? You’ve been seeing each other for, what, a couple months now?” Quinton questions, to which I nod in response. “I don’t know, man. It didn’t take much more than that for me to know about Oakley.”
“But there’s no way of knowing if this will work out the way it did for you guys.”
Because only one of us is actually feeling it for real.
The thought creates an ache in my chest, like someone has grabbed my heart in a fist and started squeezing it, and my attention drops to the ground again. I can feel the heat of Quinton’s stare on the side of my face, boring into me in that penetrating way some more.
“Is something going on to make you think that’s the case?” he hedges.
I may as well have swallowed a hockey puck, the way my throat tightens, and it takes every bit of my willpower to not give up the lie, right here and now. Every ounce of strength I have not to spill the truth at Quinton’s feet, all in the hope of getting some real advice from someone who knows firsthand what it’s like to want someone this way.
But I can’t do that to Logan. Not while knowing the onlymotive he had to help me was to get his family off his back. So I swallow down the acidic taste of our deceit and shake my head, maintaining the story we’ve been selling to everyone since the beginning.
“No, no. Things are good. I just…” I lift my gaze, meeting his icy blue one, before allowing the smallest hint of truth to slip in. “I just like him a lot more than I originally planned, and I’m worried I’m gonna fuck it up. I’m afraid I already am.”
Quinton’s features soften, an unspoken understanding passing between us, and he offers me a gentle smile.
“I’m a firm believer that no one really plans on falling for someone; it just sort of happens. And if that’s the person you’re meant to be with, there’s no possible way to fuck it up. Even if it takes time to work it all out.”
“How can you be so sure? It’s not like I’ve done this before. I…” I trail off, gesturing helplessly with my hand before it falls back to my side.
“I can’t be sure. No one can be. We’re all fickle humans, and our feelings can always change.” He squeezes my arm again when I try to look away, forcing me to focus back on him. “But that doesn’t mean you should constantly be waiting for the other shoe to drop either. That’s not healthy, and the only thing it’s gonna do is drive you crazy. So if things are good, lean into them. Enjoy them instead of preparing for the sky to fall, because there’s no guarantee it will.”
Except the sky is falling, and I’m falling right along with it.
The knot in my throat returns, to the point where I can barely breathe around it.
“I’ve never felt like this before. For anyone.”
The confession comes out soft and raspy, like a secret only meant for his ears. And, in a way, it is, even if he doesn’t realize it.
Quinton’s hand moves up and down on my bicep, thecomforting gesture doing little to ease my stress.
“All you can do is be real about it. Don’t be afraid to show him you care. It can be something as simple as…I don’t know, spending your off-ice day doing something he likes. Or if you see something that makes you think of him, take a picture of it and send it to him.” Quinton laughs lightly, shaking his head. “I mean, when I started getting feelings for Oakley, I bought him socks for Christmas. Fuckingsocks,Cam.”
My brow arches. “Like his superstition ones? With the bananas and shit on them?”
“It was eggplants, actually. But it meant the world to him.” His smile sobers slightly, and his eyes take on this faraway look, like he mentally drifts back to that moment briefly. “Look, if I can offer you any kind of advice, it’s this: Love doesn’t have to be big, grand-gesture type things. Those moments are actually the rarest of all. The small, seemingly insignificant ones, on the other hand? The everyday stuff? Those always have the deepest meaning.”
My teeth skate over my lower lip as I take the advice to heart and file it in my head as reminders for later. It doesn’t do a lot to dissuade my worries or fears, but at the very least, talking to Quinton has given me a chance to get some of these feelings off my chest and out in the open. Even if it’s not to the person who should actually be hearing them.
The most genuine smile I can muster pulls at my lips. “Thank you. Seriously.”
“Anytime, man,” he murmurs, giving my arm one final squeeze before releasing me. “Now, c’mon. From the way your guy is staring, they’re waiting on us to get out of here.”
Sixteen
Camden
The Reed clan—including myself and Quinton—is together from dusk ‘til dawn the following three days, what with the NHL’s mandatory break in games for the holiday. We spend most of the time holed up in the apartment, and after calling my own parents and brother, I spend the holiday being immersed in the Reed family Christmas traditions: lasagna for dinner, various games of cards, and a rather hilarious round of White Elephant.
