Page 49

TREV

I was a mess for the rest of that road trip.

Every time I saw Chats or heard his voice, I was overcome with frustration and a million other emotions.

I wanted to drop gloves with him. I wanted to beg him to just be happy with Bryan and leave me the hell alone.

I wanted to backhand him into next week for disrespecting Cam.

But mostly, he was just a reminder of how raw I’d felt ever since our last run-in.

Of all the thoughts that had been swarming in my head like a black cloud of mosquitoes.

I had to play nice with Chats if I wanted to stay in Pittsburgh…

but what about Cam? How was I supposed to navigate things with Cam without upending my relationship with my kids and my relationship with him? What the fuck was I supposed to do?

I tried to keep all that beneath the surface in the locker room, and I tried like hell to hide it when I FaceTimed with Cam.

I didn’t know how successful I was being.

My teammates seemed to keep Chats at bay with silent looks.

We hadn’t struck any sparks off each other in the past couple of days, which was great.

My interactions with Cam, though… those worried me.

Because I didn’t think I was being all that slick about hiding this emotional turmoil from him, but he still didn’t seem to notice.

He didn’t seem to want to chat much, and he wasn’t interested in fooling around on-camera.

He barely wanted to FaceTime at all. After our game in Montreal, I’d thought we were going to chat when I got back to the hotel. Instead, I was met with a text.

I’m sorry, I’m just wiped out. I’m going to call it an early night. Talk tomorrow?

We’d texted the next day, and we’d FaceTimed, but only briefly because I’d had to catch a flight.

Two nights later, after a demoralizing loss in Toronto, we’d chatted, but again, not for long.

He’d smiled and laughed several times, but his eyes had given him away—his heart wasn’t in it.

It was like he was on another planet, or just didn’t want to talk to me, but I’d been too much of a coward to ask why.

I told myself it was better to do this in person than over text or FaceTime. Was I being a coward? Probably.

I was worried. Distracted, too, and my game reflected it.

I’d gone three games in a row without a point, and last night—the final game of the road trip—I hadn’t even notched a shot on goal.

Coach hadn’t talked to me yet, but I could see it in his sidelong glances that I needed to get my shit together ASAP unless I wanted another one-way conversation.

At least we were finally home today. I had no idea if that would improve things with Cam, but it got me back on familiar turf and away from Chats. I’d take it.

My flight came in super late last night, and Cam had already been asleep in his own room, so I’d left him to it.

This morning, he’d been out when I got up, and he’d come back twenty minutes later with some grocery bags.

I’d helped him put things away, but the conversation stayed superficial and… not cold, but not warm either.

Something was wrong. I could feel it all the way to my damn core.

But I also had a mountain of uncomfortable things I needed to bring up, and I was afraid to start that conversation.

It was going to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, wasn’t it?

When I told him I was afraid of messing things up with him…

I’d mess things up with him. When I told him I was afraid to lose him as my kids’ nanny…

I’d lose him as my kids’ nanny. When I told him I was afraid of losing him entirely…

God, I couldn’t even think about that.

Yeah, I was probably a coward, but I wasn’t used to having quite this much on the line.

At least when I’d confronted Bryan about cheating, I’d had my anger to rocket me past my fear of everything that would happen once we got that all out in the open.

Divorce was terrifying, especially with kids involved, but I’d been too pissed off and hurt to let the fear get a word in edgewise.

This time, there was no anger. Not between me and Cam, anyway. Hurt, yes, but not because Cam had done anything wrong. It just hurt to think I might lose this amazing thing between us.

Except… maybe I already had lost it. The lack of eye contact and conversation from the man who’d barely spoken to me the last few days? The way he hadn’t been at all interested in sexting or even just casually texting?

Fucking hell. How had it gone so wrong, so fast? And what was on his mind? What had gone wrong on his end?

I couldn’t handle this standoff anymore.

The long silences between me and Bryan had been a relief more often than not. At least when we weren’t talking, we weren’t fighting. The moment I’d realized that had been the moment I’d known divorce was on the horizon.

It didn’t feel anything like that with Cam.

Whenever he left a room or avoided interacting with me, I was hit with this impulse to drop to my knees and beg or cry or…

something . I wasn’t actually going to do anything that melodramatic, and I’d been thinking about cooling things off between us anyway, but that was how those moments left me feeling.

Finally, after I came back from practice the second day I was back in town, I decided enough was enough. Cam was in the gym downstairs, and while I didn’t like to interrupt his workouts, I couldn’t handle this tension for another minute.

He was on the treadmill, and he glanced at me when I came in, but focused out the window. I took a deep breath and came closer. “Hey. Can we talk?”

He winced.

“Cam. Talk to me. Please.”

He wouldn’t even look at me.

I tried again, struggling not to sound as desperate as I felt. “Did I do something wrong?”

He flinched. Then he paused the program on the treadmill. After the belt had slowed to a stop, he rested his hands on the siderails and sighed. Still not looking at me, he said, “No. No, you didn’t do…” He raked a hand through his sweaty hair. “I don’t think anyone did anything wrong.”

I studied him, completely confused. Shit. What was going on? I stayed quiet, letting him gather his thoughts and figure out what to say. I definitely had no idea what to say.

Finally, he exhaled hard and rolled his shoulders, and after a moment, he met my gaze. The amount of pain in his eyes almost sent me back a step.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t… This has nothing to do with any feelings I have for you. It’s…”

I swallowed. “Is this about us? Dating? Or, uh, whatever we’re doing?”

Avoiding my gaze again, he nodded.

Though I knew the answer, I asked anyway: “Do you want to end it?”

The flinch made me want to wrap my arms around him, but I couldn’t. Not this time. Because I knew what was coming.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. “But I…” He cleared his throat and finally looked at me again. “I need to, Trev. I’m sorry.”

There should’ve been some relief that he was dropping this hammer. He was saving me the heartache of trying to spell out why I needed to call it off. But all I could feel in that moment was panic that the most amazing man I’d ever known was slipping away. Again.

“But why?” I pleaded softly. “Cam, we can?—”

“I need this job. I need this place to live.” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “If things fall apart between us—if we break up and it gets ugly—then I don’t just lose you. I lose everything . Same as when everything went to shit with Daniel.”

I blinked. “I would… I would never do that to you.”

“I know. But what if we do break up?” He struggled to hold my gaze, and his voice wavered.

“How do you really see that playing out? I keep living here and watching your kids, even while things get super uncomfortable and we both start seeing other people?” He grimaced and shook his head.

“And that’s the best-case scenario . What if things aren’t amicable and we can’t stand to be around each other?

This”—he gestured to encompass the house—“is all yours. I have nothing. I have nowhere to go except back to Seattle to start all over. Again .”

Jesus. While I’d been wringing my hands over all the reasons why this could blow up in my face, it hadn’t occurred to me how badly it could blow up in his.

“I’m sorry, Trev,” he whispered. “I don’t want to do this. But I’d rather we end things now while we can go back to being friends so I can keep working for you and living here. I’m scared that if we keep doing this, things might turn ugly, and…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

What could I even say? No, I’d never toss him out on his ass, not even if things went to hell between us.

But what right did I have to expect him to have faith in that?

We weren’t married. There was nothing legally obligating me to make sure he was on his feet.

At best, I was pretty sure I had to give him a minimum of thirty days before kicking him out, but that was about it.

He’d be out of a job, out of a home, and in a city where he didn’t know anyone but me.

Would I have wanted to stay in a relationship in his position?

No, I would not.

So what right did have to expect him to want to stay in one?

I exhaled. “Okay. Okay, I get that. But I don’t want to lose you. And not just as a boyfriend or as someone taking care of my kids. I already lost so damn many years with you, and I don’t want to go back to that.”

“I’m not leaving,” he insisted. “As long as you want me here, I’m here. I don’t want to lose you either. I just… I can’t let the lines blur.” He winced as he added, “I can’t risk losing all my stability— again —if things don’t work out between us as a couple.”

“I get that. I do. I promise. And… I don’t want that for you either. I want you to be safe and have stability.” It took some serious effort to swallow. “If that means we have to give this up, then… Then that’s what we have to do.”

There was still pain in his eyes, but his posture relaxed a little. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I wish we could do…” He trailed off again, rubbing the back of his neck with an unsteady hand. “I really don’t want to do this. Just so you know.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“It took two.”

“Still. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Uncomfortable silence hung between us, and I had no idea how to fill it. What else was there to say? What would make the situation better instead of worse?

Cam flicked his eyes toward the door. “I’ll, um?—”

“I’ll get out of here,” I said evenly. “I’m sorry I interrupted your workout.”

That seemed to catch him by surprise and leave him slightly off-balance. He avoided my gaze and picked up his towel. “I… I’ve already cooled down a bit, so I’m just going to grab a shower and…” He swallowed, and he didn’t finish the thought.

Then he quickly toweled off the treadmill, grabbed his water bottle, and disappeared out of the gym.

Leaning against the wall, I listened to his footsteps fading up the stairs. There was movement above me, then nothing, so he must’ve continued up to the next floor.

With a heavy sigh, I wiped a hand over my face.

Okay. Okay, it was done. We’d had the hard conversation and we were back on the same page. Everything was the way it needed to be. Everything was good.

So when would I start feeling better?