Page 12

When I came downstairs in my own swim trunks, the boys were waiting by the fence around the pool. Zane carried a couple of pool noodles, and Zach had a handful of weighted rings that could be retrieved off the bottom.

As I padded across the sun-warmed flagstones, I gestured at the rings. “Remember, you only use those when someone’s watching. Tell me or Cam before you start tossing them in, okay?”

Zach groaned and nodded. “I know , Dad.”

They both did, but I was never going to stop being extra careful where the pool was concerned.

I unlocked the gate, and the boys were in the water in two seconds flat.

Zach had left the rings on the side, and they splashed and played in the shallow end while I sat on the edge with my feet in the cool water.

As much anxiety as it gave me, having a pool with young kids, I loved watching them have fun in it.

Now that the twins had gotten past a lot of their anxiety over being in the water, they couldn’t get enough of swimming.

In fact, with the colder months on the horizon, I needed to look into some facilities around Pittsburgh with indoor pools. The one we’d signed them up for last year had closed, but there had to be more that were?—

The sliding glass door opened and closed behind me, and I twisted around.

And… wow.

I did a double take as Cam stepped out onto the back deck.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

His ripped physique was on full display except for what was covered by a pair of blue and gray swim trunks. He had on dark sunglasses, too, though he left those on the table before jumping into the pool.

He’d taken out his nipple piercings, which I appreciated.

I didn’t mind my kids seeing body modifications—their other dad had tattoos, after all, as did Chats and most of my teammates.

But I really wasn’t ready for a call from my ex-husband about, “Tell me why our sons said you told them they could get their nipples pierced if I said it was okay?”

Though Bryan was probably wise to it by now, especially after “Dad said if it’s okay with you, we can get tattoos.”

Kids, man. What can you do?

“Cam!” Zane called out. “Do you want to dive for rings?”

“Rings?” Cam looked around, then zeroed in on the stack of weighted rings. “Sure!” He swam over and grabbed them. “Who wants to go first?”

And just like that, they were playing a game—tossing rings into the water (the shallow end, of course) and retrieving them off the bottom.

As I watched, I couldn’t help smiling. Whatever worries I might’ve had about Cam and the boys getting along—they were gone.

I wasn’t na?ve enough to think this would all be sunshine and roses.

Getting along with him when they were all having fun was one thing.

Listening to him when he told them it was time to do homework or chores—that was where things could get dicey.

This was a good start, though. A really good start.

And… okay, when was I going to stop getting butterflies every time Cam did something? Because this was getting a little ridiculous. Laughing at something? Butterflies. Coming upstairs from the gym, sweaty and shirtless? Butterflies. Just… breathing? Fuuucking butterflies.

And now here he was, making my kids laugh while they all took turns swimming to the bottom to retrieve the weighted rings.

He didn’t try to coax them into deeper water.

He didn’t give Zach grief when he struggled to get one of the rings.

He didn’t criticize Zane’s form when he got tired and reverted to dog paddling.

In fact, he helped Zane to the edge of the pool, and he kept both of them distracted with a long-winded story from our youth.

The boys laughed their heads off at the story.

I recognized it for what it was—giving Zane a chance to rest a little so he could swim more comfortably and safely.

Sure enough, after Cam’s story, they returned to their game, and Zane was back to swimming the way he’d learned in his lessons.

After a while, the boys got bored with chasing rings, and they were content to splash around on their pool noodles.

While they did that, Cam hoisted himself onto the edge beside me.

I was glad I had the responsibility of keeping an eye on the kids right then; it kept me from shamelessly ogling my gorgeous and half-naked friend’s perfect, wet body.

Watching them with a smile, he leaned back on his hands. “Can you imagine if we’d had a pool like this when we were kids?”

I made a face. “We’d have spent half the time cleaning pine needles out of it, and the rest of the time, it would’ve been too cold.”

He tsked. “But that one or two days every summer where it was hot? Man, they wouldn’t have been able to drag us out.”

“I know, right? We’d probably still be in it.”

We both laughed and kept watching the boys playing in the water.

I loved this. Enjoying a relaxed summer afternoon with my sons, and also chilling with the friend I’d been missing so much for so long. As furious as I’d been with Bryan for his ultimatum, I could almost kiss him for it now because it was the reason I had Cam here.

In between games, the boys swam over to us.

“What’s for lunch?” Zach asked.

I pretended to give it some thought. “I was thinking I could grill some burgers. Sound good?”

Both boys lit up. “Yeah!”

I chuckled. “Figured I wouldn’t have to twist your arms. Maybe another half our or so, I’ll start cooking?”

“Okay!”

They started to push off from the side, but then Zane pointed at Cam’s chest. In an intensely concerned voice, he asked, “What happened?”

Cam glanced down. My stomach flipped as I realized my son had been indicating the silvery crescent-shaped scars on each of Cam’s pecs. Panic knotted my guts as I scrambled for an explanation that would make sense to a six-year-old while not making a trans guy feel uncomfortable.

Cam, however, responded without missing a beat. “Oh, I had surgery a few years ago. But it’s all healed now.”

“Did it hurt?” Zane asked with all the innocence of a child.

“When it was healing, yeah.” Cam shrugged. “But afterward, I felt a lot better.”

“Oh. So like my dad’s foot.”

Cam tilted his head, flicking his eyes toward me before asking, “What happened to your dad’s foot?”

“It was hurting him,” Zane explained. “He went to the doctor and they fixed it. He had crutches for a while, but now he’s better.”

“Oh.” Cam smiled. “Yeah, it’s kind of like that. It hurts for a little while, but then it doesn’t anymore.”

“Oh. Okay.” And with that, Zane and his brother were focused on something else—this time, using their pool noodles to stage swordfights in the water.

“They’re really not bothered by much, are they?” Cam asked.

“No, they’re not. They’re curious about things, but I’ve found as long as we take them seriously and give them an answer, they’re like—okay, curiosity satisfied, moving on.”

“You don’t say.” Then Cam turned an uneasy look on me. “That’s, um… That’s okay, right? That they saw my scars? And asked about them?”

“Yeah, of course.” I shrugged. “I just hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable. Him asking about it, I mean.”

“Nah. Kids are just curious.” He studied me. “When did you have ankle surgery?”

“Ankle— oh . Not me. Bryan. He ruptured his Achilles tendon—must’ve been two years ago, I think?”

Cam grimaced. “Ouch. One of my coworkers did that. She was in so much pain for ages .”

“Bryan was, too. It was awful. Like, I’ve had some pretty painful injuries from hockey, but I’ll pass on that one.”

“Good call. And I think I’ll pass on some of those hockey injuries.” He chafed his arms. “I made the mistake of watching a compilation of worst hockey injuries last year, and… ugh. No, thanks.”

I laughed and elbowed him, pretending not to notice the frisson as bare skin brushed bare skin. “You didn’t have to watch all of those, you know.”

“I know. But it’s kind of like a trainwreck. It’s hard to look away.”

“You’re not wrong. I just don’t watch the compilations because there’s always a chance I’m in them.” I shuddered. “I’d just as soon not watch some of my greatest hits, thank you.”

“Well,” he said dryly, “you could try not getting fucked up as often?”

Rolling my eyes, I elbowed him again. “Shut up.”

He just cackled.

God, it was good to have my best friend back.