Page 16 of Lavender and Linebackers

But even with the lack of heads-up, I’m not surprised he’s here. I caught him giving me a curious look a couple of times this morning at practice.

I first met Camden when the team brought me in as a potential prospect. Each team is allowed to bring in up to thirty players to tour the facilities, meet with different teammates, interview with the coaches, and perform a physical. Camden was one of those players, and we instantly hit it off. Even though he’s offense and I’m defense, we spend a surprising amount of time together lined up across from each other on the field.

“She is? When?” I ask, pulling a standard-issue white football towel from the back of my shorts to wipe the sweat off my face.

“Labor Day weekend. And for whatever reason, she’s decided she wants to live in my house until then. I love her, but it’s loud, and there are always people over.”

“That’s in like a month and a half.”

“I know,” he deadpans as we both walk into the garage to get out of the sun.

Camden doesn’t talk much about his personal life, but when he does, it’s about his sister. From what I gather, the two of them are close, and he’s very protective of her.

“Where’s the wedding? She does realize that the season has started, right?” I reach into the garage refrigerator and grab us both a water. Some of the guys on the team are less strict when it comes to diet during the season. Camden is not one of them. He rarely drinks anything other than water, and if he is, it’s only to be polite. I never need to worry about having his favorite beer stocked.

“Yes. Apparently, she thought enough to check the schedule.” He lets out a sigh. “The Don CeSar on St. Pete Beach. She wanted to keep it close, and there was a last-minute cancellation that she slid into. This way it’s drivable.”

“That was nice of her,” I tell him, taking a swig, and in return, he cuts me a dry look.

“She shouldn’t be marrying this guy. He’s not right for her.”

He’s complained about this guy before. I guess he’s the son of one of their father’s friends. In a way, it was a setup, and both of them have agreed to go along with it. According to Camden, the guy is a wet blanket. He’s boring, doesn’t intellectually challenge his sister, and would make a terrible life partner for her.

“Have you told her?”

“I have. But she isn’t listening.” He lets out a sigh as he runs his hand over the back of his neck and then his face.

“Come on, let’s go inside and get out of the heat,” I suggest, and he follows me into the house.

This house was built in the 1980s. I love the layout, the bones, and the full waterfront view. What I didn’t love was that it has not been updated once. Well, other than kitchen appliances. Think yellow honey oak cabinets, high-gloss lacquered countertops, linoleum flooring in the kitchen, wall-to-wall old carpet, bold geometric patterns, and glass blocks in the bathrooms. The previous owners lived here almost their entire lives. One recently passed away, and the other went to live with one of their children.

“Wow, it’s coming along great in here,” Camden tells me as he looks around at the changes I’ve made.

Coming out of college, I really didn’t have a lot of furniture. A couch, a bed, a television, the basic standard apartment stuff, so it’s made it easy to strip this place bare and modernize it.

“Thanks. I’ve finished the floor on the first level and the stairs, painted, and swapped out the mantel on the fireplace. I’ve just started in the kitchen.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this all by yourself.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean.”

In college, I fell in love with civil engineering and working with my hands. More specifically, structural and construction engineering. I love buildings, how they’re designed, and the idea of how I can make them better. One day, football will end, but I already know what I’m doing next.

I chuckle. “Yeah, I do, but it hasn’t all been by myself. Sully helped a lot with the floor.”

“Speaking of, you going to tell me what happened at practice today?” He leans against the kitchen island, pulls off his sunglasses, and pins me with one of his classic blank stare looks.

“What do you mean?” I attempt to play dumb because I really don’t want to get into it.

“What happened with Sully?” He frowns.

“What makes you think something happened with him?”

“Ryder.” His tone tells me he isn’t amused and to stop wasting his time.

My chest deflates as we stare at each other, and Felix makes his presence known by wrapping himself around Camden’s leg.