24. Jagger

Jagger

I t's been several hours since we left Coach's office, but the shame of losing my shit in front of him and Cam hasn't faded.

Logically, I know that's nothing to feel ashamed about, but my mind and body and emotions aren't on the same page right now, so I'm experiencing a whole bunch of weird shit. Like how I'm both exhausted and wired, which are two things that shouldn't go together, yet I feel them both equally.

Christ, seeing Cam's picture under that note was terrifying.

I literally cannot remember what life was like before I met him, and the thought of something happening to him, something that might take him from me… It cripples me even now, like a ripple of a stone hitting the water, it just keeps going and going and going.

It hasn't really stopped since I first opened that envelope. The adrenaline spike that took me from scared to pissed to scared again in the span of thirty seconds was physically exhausting. Even though I was sitting, it had me alternately vibrating with fear and fury. That part I'm not ashamed of. Realizing my dad still has some sort of power over me, after I'd stood up to him the day before no less… That's what broke me. Emotionally.

For over a decade, Cam's been my rock, and when he gets threatened and needs me to be strong for him what do I do? Lose my shit.

I knew I was going overboard with the freak out. I could feel the panic spreading from my chest to my limbs with every heartbeat, each one getting progressively louder until the heavy thud was all I could hear. But I couldn't shut it off even though my brain was, ironically, unaffected.

I've never had a panic attack before. Yet, as soon as it came on, I knew what was happening. I'm still not sure how I could have such a lucid thought while having zero control over my body, or why the panic didn't extend to my brain. I only know that telling my body to snap out of it was futile. I could do little more than stand there and wait it out, like I was watching a free version of a movie that had commercials I couldn't fast forward through.

Pulling the covers up to my chin, I burrow deeper into the mattress, as if it will help me hide from my pathetic actions.

Despite my near constant desire to feel in control, the reality is, I'm not. Not when it comes to my emotions. They swing wildly depending on the situation, and it's only Cam's calming influence that evens them out. I've gotten better over the years, or so I thought, but I still rely on him to keep from spiraling. Only today, when he was the one being threatened, I couldn't stop the spiral.

I wouldn't blame him if he wants to end things now. Less than twenty-four hours after making him proud by standing up to my dad I've reverted to the needy, pitiful kid who lives inside me. The one that's desperate for approval and terrified to be alone.

For years, Cam has pacified that kid by doggedly standing next to me, propping me up so I could one day stand on my own. And now, I've proven how inept I am. He's probably second guessing what he signed up for by being my boyfriend.

It would serve me right if he left. Maybe then I'd finally learn how to take care of myself instead of forcing him to do it for me.

Snuggled in my little cocoon, I don't realize Cam's in the room until I hear the soft clatter of a plate being set on the nightstand. Then the mattress dips behind me. The covers shift and a strong arm falls over me, pulling me against his chest, and—as always—acting as my shield. But this time instead of simply holding me Cam nuzzles his nose in my hair and plants soft kisses on the back of my neck. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone so long."

"Huh?"

He places another soft kiss on my neck. "You're the loudest thinker on the planet, and I can tell you're all up in your head about something. Spill."

I want nothing more than to keep my shit bottled up, to not add any more to his plate, but silence will only make him more persistent. "I know I'm a massive burden. You don't have to stay here with me."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"My dad threatened you but you're taking care of me . It's pathetic. I'm pathetic. You should break up with me and find someone better."

"Do you want me to break up with you?" Cam's breath is warm against my ear. Soothing.

It makes me go with the selfish answer. "Fuck no."

"Good. Because I'm not going to. Not now, not ever."

"You want to date someone you have to constantly take care of?"

"I don't constantly take care of you."

"Yes, you do. You joined the football team because I wanted you to, not because you wanted to play. You're at this school because of me. You do all my filming for me, you feed me, you go along with all my hair brained ideas, and you come with me wherever I go so I don't have to be alone," I rattle off a litany of the things he's done for me over the years. "Taking care of me monopolizes your life and I've abused you long enough."

The mattress shifts as Cam scoots far enough he can roll me to my back so I'm staring at the ceiling instead of the wall, which means I could see him if I let my eyes drift in his direction. He's letting me choose whether I want to.

"Kitcat, you pay me to film your social media stuff. I feed us not you. And I like your hair brained ideas because they make life interesting. And as for following you to football and to this school, I did that because I need you just as much as you need me." He kisses my forehead. "You monopolize my life because you're the most important person in it. And you know that, so what's this really about?"

My fingers crumple the comforter that's resting just beneath my chin as I push the words out. "Yesterday you were proud of me for how I handled my dad, and today I'm a fucking basket case. It's been ten years— ten years —and he can still get me to lose my shit. Aren't you tired of having to put me back together after I fall apart?"

Cam brushes the back of his fingers over my cheek, a reassuring touch that still gives me the freedom to choose when I'm ready to look at him. "For the record, I don't put you back together. I listen, I give advice or comfort, but I don't have the power to put you back together. You do that yourself. And as for what happened yesterday, you've never been in a position to say or do anything about your dad for those ten years since he just up and left. Yesterday was the first time you've ever had that chance, and you took it. That's what made me proud. But I'd never expect that one interaction to cure years of hurt, especially when he retaliated the way he did."

Since I told myself something similar yesterday, I know Cam's speaking the truth. I guess I just thought I'd have more time to feel good about how I handled things before my dad came at me again. More time to prepare, so I could be the guy who made Cam proud instead of the one who cowers in his bed and waits for his bes—boyfriend—to fix him.

"See, you just did it right now. Put me back together."

"It wouldn't have been that easy if you didn't already know deep down that I'm right."

Although I usually love how well Cam can read me, right now it's sort of annoying. I give his bicep a tiny pinch and mutter, "Fucker."

"Takes one to know one."

"That's the best comeback you've got?"

"Yeah, cause fucker was such a brilliant retort in the first place." His snort almost resembles a chuckle.

"Fair. Cam?"

"Yeah?"

I take a deep breath and turn my head to face him. "Since you're pretty determined to believe I shit rainbows and all, I figure it won't freak you out if I tell you I love you."

His rich brown eyes calm my pounding heart when they find mine. "I love you, too."

Did I hear that right? "No, I mean like… I love you. Hearts and forever and soulmate type love."

"Good, because that's how I love you." The corner of his lips pull up in a bashful, borderline endearing smile, and like a magnet it pulls mine up as well.

"Promise?" Jesus, I sound like a kid on Christmas morning.

"I promise." He leans forward and presses his lips to mine in a kiss that's so sweet I swear my insides feel like mush. "Now eat your sandwich. Freak outs burn a lot of energy, and we won't get to skip practice again tomorrow, so you need your strength."

The grin on my face is so broad, my face actually hurts, but I sort of don't care that it probably makes me look ridiculous. "Yes Camelo—shit," I hiss as his face falls. Who knew my mood could plummet so fast. "I called you that earlier too. Sorry, I know you hate it."

"It's okay. You were scared and stressed, and you haven't come up with a new one for me yet. Besides," he tries to make me feel better. "I don't hate it, I just…don't see how it fits me since it's an English name and I'm Scottish."

"I don't call you Camelot after the English city," I confess the secret I've kept nearly my whole life. The one that's both an admission of how weak I am and how strong Cam is. "I call you that because it's where the knights of the round table are from, and you've always been my knight."

Cam's jaw bobs up and down in stunned silence as he tries to blink the glassy sheen away from his soulful brown eyes. "Baby," he sputters when he finds his voice. "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"Baby? Nope. No way." I rock my head back and forth on the pillow. "You already gave me a ridiculous name and you only get one."

"Kittycat was ridiculous. Kitcat is clever." His proud smile turns sultry. "But baby is sexy."

"I'm serious," I warn. "Call me baby and I won't let you play with my dick."

"You can play with mine then." He thinks he has the upper hand since I'm now a devotee to the beast between his legs, but I'm willing to die on this hill.

"There won't be any playing with dicks if you call me baby."

"Babe?"

"No."

"Beautiful?"

"Eew." I roll my eyes.

"You are though." Cam's bashful smile is back. "So beautiful I still can't believe you'd slum it with me."

"That's another thing that's gonna make me take away your dick privileges. Never call me some sappy nickname and never imply you aren't hot enough for me. You turned me gay, for God's sake, you're clearly gorgeous if I get harder for you than I do for pussy."

"You're gay now?" Cam tilts his head to the side above me.

"For you, I am," I huff, though my agitation fades the instant I see his features soften. "You're it for me, Camelot."

That glassy sheen comes back to his eyes. "Seriously, how come you let me believe Camelot was a play on my name and not something personal?"

Even though this is Cam, it's still hard to get the words out. "As much as I loved having you to protect me, it was sort of embarrassing that I couldn't protect myself."

"Kitcat." He brushes a stray lock of hair away from my forehead. "You're not this feeble, helpless guy you paint yourself as. You're physically strong, you're smart, you're loyal to your friends and teammates, and even though you're afraid of being like your dad, I think deep down you know you aren't. You don't need me to protect you, either. I think you let me do it because you know it gives me purpose. And even if some part of you does need help now and then, that doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

Now it's my eyes that feel wet. "I give you purpose?"

"You're it for me too, Kitcat. You're my only purpose."

Damn, and here I thought it couldn't get more intense than ‘I love you.'

"I told you not to be sappy." I swipe at a tear that I can't blink back fast enough.

"It's your fault. You're the one who gave me a nickname with a really deep meaning."

"Yeah, well… That's between us you know. I don't need everyone knowing I'm sentimental and shit."

Cam tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"What?" I ask.

"The guys are gonna want to know why we weren't at practice. Liam already asked me, but I said we'd talk later. What do you want to tell them?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, weighing the pros and cons of telling them about my dad. They'll be pissed enough to take matters into their own hands, which I don't want, but if they aren't aware of the threat they could find themselves caught in the middle of it.

"Let's tell them the truth. At least that way they can help look out for you so my dad can't touch you."

"I really don't think I'm in any danger, Kitcat."

"Maybe not, but I meant it when I said I wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened to you, so I'd feel better if they know to look out for him."

"Okay, then." He gives me a long, lingering kiss. "Eat your sandwich. Then we'll fill them in."

"Yes, Camelot."

Turns out, knowing the origin of that name is a turn-on for my boyfriend, so we don't make it downstairs to talk to our roommates until the next day.