Page 24 of Full Tilt (Love The Game #4)

“My parents live in Habersham, near Savannah. That’s like what, two hours away?” I laugh under my breath. “That’s where I grew up.”

He blinks, then smiles slowly. “No shit?”

“No shit.” I shake my head, still surprised. “I mean, damn. That’s close. Too close for the universe not to be having a bit of fun.”

He’s watching me now—not guarded, not cautious. Just… curious. Warm.

“Think your folks would go to a game?” he asks.

“Oh, hell no.” I grin. “My mom would bring a sunhat the size of a dinner table and spend the whole time complaining about heat stroke. And my dad would try to start a chant and get ejected from the stands for swearing at the ref.”

Camden snorts, amused.

I hesitate a beat, then shrug, softer now. “Okay, fine. I’m full of shit. They’d absolutely love it. Especially if it was for you.”

His head tilts, eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s a flicker of something warmer behind them. “Yeah?”

I nod, quieter this time. “Yeah. You’re… becoming important.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, just enough to knock the breath from my chest. Camden’s smile blooms fully then—rare, unguarded. “I kinda want to meet them.”

It’s playful, but the words echo louder than they should. The smile drops from my lips a little, not because I’m not happy, but because that meant something. That hint of future. Of things mattering more than just right now.

“I think they’d like you,” I say, quiet and honest.

Camden looks down at the bottle in his hand, that smile still tugging at one corner of his mouth, like he’s trying not to let it settle too deep. Then he gives a gentle shrug. “Well, your brother already likes me. That’s a start.”

I snort. “Don’t even. I’m still recovering from Cosmo trying to emotionally adopt you via group chat.”

He smirks. “He said I was broody.”

“You are broody.”

“And you’re nosy.”

“Touché.”

We lapse into a beat of silence that’s not awkward at all, just soft and steady. The kind that makes you aware of how close someone is, of the shape of the air between you.

I shift again, this time a little closer, my hand brushing his thigh as I set my beer down. He doesn’t move away. He just watches me with that thoughtful gaze of his—heavy-lidded, not quite smiling.

“You nervous about the US trip?” I ask, voice low.

Camden exhales slowly, then nods. “A bit. Not for the games. It’s more… just being visible again. Press stuff. Fan stuff. New crowds. New eyes.”

“Old ghosts?”

“Some of those too.”

I rest my hand over his. “You don’t need the pep talk. But I believe in you.”

His gaze drops to our hands, and for a second, I think he might pull away. Instead, he turns his palm and links our fingers. “Yeah?”

I nod. “Definitely. And I’ll be back home for a bit, too, remember? Just for the week, but… maybe I’ll catch one of those games if there’s an overlap.”

Camden lifts an eyebrow. “You’d come?”

“Habersham’s two hours away from Jacksonville,” I say with a shrug. “Seems like a waste not to. Besides…” I squeeze his fingers gently. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you on the pitch again.” Though truth be told, all being well, I’ll be getting a ticket for his next home game.

His throat works as he swallows. “I’ll send you the schedule.”

Another moment of quiet, this one heavier, not with tension but with possibility. I can feel the weight of it, sitting here between us. An invitation neither of us quite knows how to voice yet, but it’s there.

And neither of us is walking away.

Camden’s still holding my hand when he says, “If you do come to a game… it means telling Cosmo.”

I glance at him. “Yeah. I figured.”

“He, uh… he might react.”

I huff out a laugh. “Cam, my brother reacts to breakfast cereal. If I tell him I’m going to see you play, he’ll be halfway to designing matching merch by lunch.

” I’m also kind of surprised he hasn’t told his group chat he’s heading to the US.

Though to be fair, Camden guards his privacy so closely, am I really that surprised?

He raises a brow, intrigued. “Has he always been like that?”

“Oh yeah,” I say, smiling despite myself. “I love the little chaos goblin, but he’s got two speeds: sleep and obsessive enthusiasm. Yesterday, a parcel showed up at my flat from him.”

Cam’s mouth twitches. “Dare I ask?”

“A cuddly gorilla.”

He blinks. “A… gorilla.”

“Holding a banana,” I clarify, fighting back a grin. “Big plush thing, smug as hell. No note. Just vibes.”

Cam’s laugh cracks the air. It’s low and surprised, full-body, and it hits me square in the chest.

“And this wasn’t random?” he asks, still chuckling.

“Not exactly.” I shake my head, biting down my smile. “It was a callback to a very Cosmo brand of advice. I was on the phone with him a few days ago—feeling like shit, convinced I’d messed everything up with you, actually—and he goes, ‘Don’t be the gorilla, man.’”

Camden stares, confused and amused. “What does that even mean?”

“Right?” I laugh. “So apparently, this gorilla got released from captivity and died like a day later in the wild. Completely metaphorical train wreck. Cosmo goes, ‘Don’t be that guy. Don’t let fear keep you locked up just to die when you finally try to live.’”

Camden doesn’t say anything right away. His expression shifts—open and serious, but softened. The hand not holding mine taps against his leg absently, like he’s trying to process the sudden thud of weight behind the words.

“That’s… kind of amazing.”

“Kind of typical,” I counter. “Cosmo hides his wisdom under layers of chaos and breakfast burritos, but when he lands one, it sticks.”

Camden’s still quiet, but he nods, and I can see the moment it settles into him—that idea. Don’t be the gorilla.

“Sounds like he’s good at calling people out,” he murmurs.

“He is. In the most ridiculous way possible. But yeah.”

He shifts closer, our shoulders brushing, and I can feel the warmth of him through his hoodie. “You gonna tell him about us?” he asks quietly.

I exhale, then nod. “Yeah. I want to. Cosmo, my family—they’d love you.”

Camden doesn’t look away, but something in his posture tenses just slightly.

“But,” I add gently, “I also get that this… whatever it is… it’s still early. No labels. No pressure. I don’t want you feeling exposed before you’re ready.”

His brows pinch slightly. “You sure?”

“Positive.” I nudge his knee with mine. “I’m not hiding you. I’m protecting what this is. Whatever we’re building—it matters to me. And I want it to be ours before it becomes anyone else’s.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then gives a slow, almost imperceptible nod. His fingers find the hem of my sleeve, tugging once. Not quite a thank-you, not quite a yes—but it says enough. So I lean in and press a kiss to his temple, quiet and unrushed.

And he lets me.