“Yeah?”
“I want another chance at that Cup before I retire, so next time someone talks shit about your girl?” A tiny smile tugs at his mouth. “Try to at least wait until after the game.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
kennedy
“Goalies never fight.That would mean leaving the crease,” I mimic in Cameron’s baritone as I dab antiseptic on the cut above his eyebrow with more force than necessary. “Blah, blah, blah. Bullshit.”
I move on from there, pressing the ice pack against the bruise blooming on his shoulder. He hisses in pain, but I don’t apologize. He got ejected from the game, and even though he won’t tell me what the Warriors player said, I’m certain it was about me. And it had to be bad for him to launch himself at the guy.He’sthe one who told me goalies rarely fight (and if they do, it’s usually with the other goalie).
From the sound of things, he’s most likely suspended for the next few games.
Right before playoffs.
“Kennedy.”
I ignore him, focusing on cleaning the cut again. It’s not that bad. One antiseptic pad was enough, I’m sure. But I’m treating it like it’s life-threatening because if I stop moving, I’ll scream.
“Kennedy,” he repeats, his voice softer.
“Stop moving,” I snap, finally looking at him.
He’s shirtless and sitting on the edge of my couch, where the lighting is better. His hair is still damp from the shower, sticking up in seventeen different directions, and there’s another bruise forming along his ribs.
I clench my jaw. “It’s hard to clean when you?—”
“Baby.”
The word stops my rambling.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
“Nothing’s wrong, and I am talking to you.” I snag more gauze from my first-aid kit and zero in on his wound again. “I think I’ve said a lot, including but not limited to ‘You’re a stupid idiot’ and ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ and ‘Seriously, why couldn’t you just stay in the crease?’ Now please quit moving.”
Cameron grasps my wrists, halting me mid-motion. His grip is gentle, but when I try to pull away, he tightens his hold. “Kennedy. Stop.”
The frustration coursing through me burns hotter. “I’m trying to be a helpful girlfriend.”
He doesn’t so much as flinch at the way I’ve dropped the “fake” qualifier. In fact, he releases one of my wrists and cups my face, tilting my head so I have no choice but to look at him. “Is that what you are?”
“Helpful?” I cock a brow, aiming for sarcastic but landing somewhere closer to defensive. “I think so, considering I’m using my name-brand Band-Aids on you instead of the cheap ones. You’re welcome, by the way.”
That’s not what he means, but he lets me off the hook anyway.
“I’m not going to tell you what Hertz said because it doesn’t matter,” he says softly, his thumb moving across my cheek.
“Is this karma for not telling you what Gigi said when she found me at practice?”
His nightmare of an ex truly outdid herself by leaking his investment in Crumb & Co. to the press, but I’d never blame him for that. Her? She’s moved from my shit list to myif Cameron’s car happens to hit her, I’m probably drivinglist.
His lips harden into a straight line. “No, it’s not karma.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?” I press. I know I sound petulant, but I can’t find it in my myself to care.
“Because it’s not important. What’s important is how I responded.”
I tilt my head. “By smacking him with your blocker?”
