12. Cameron

TWELVE

CAMERON

Cameron never thought he would see the day when he was tired of getting on another airplane to go play hockey. When he first got called up, he could tell the older guys struggled, but he couldn’t imagine himself getting to that point. He had wanted to be in the NHL for so long that his gratitude eclipsed everything else.

Now his shoulders sagged as his team deplaned in Buffalo, just to get onto a bus to the hotel. They got their room assignments, and Eddie volunteered his room as the hangout space. Cameron dumped his luggage in his room and headed down the hall.

There were a few guys there already, lounging on the king bed and the small couch. He still didn’t prefer to be away from Zacky, but if he had to be, he was grateful that Zacky’s mom had flown in to stay with him. And that Cameron had the distraction of his teammates to keep his mind off Zacky and his head injury.

They had an hour before they had to go to morning skate, and while Cameron knew he would find the energy to perform when he got there, for the time being, he was exhausted. He flopped down on the bed next to Eddie, their big, blond Swedish captain and first-line center. Eddie was always friendly, often quiet, and lethal when he needed to be.

“You got an update on Z?” he asked, as Elliott and D-man Shane filed into the room and said hi to Brian. Brian had been pretty eager since he’d been called up to fill Zacky’s shoes, and while it had been getting on Cameron’s nerves, he remembered his first time getting called up. The excitement. The desperation.

“His mom just landed and is Ubering over to our place,” he said, grateful that Zacky’s mom was communicative. She clearly appreciated the updates she had been getting from Cameron, and she already said she’d return the favor. “Other than that, pretty much the same. Maybe a little better. Hard to tell.”

“It’s going to be good to get him back up here,” Elliott said, sitting on the edge of the bed and nosing himself into their conversation.

“I’m not sure I’d say that,” Brian said with an eye roll. “Everyone around here is wetting their pants about him, but he’s scored what, one goal this year?”

“And you’ve scored zero,” Cameron countered, his hackles rising.

“You do realize that Z and Cam are besties, right?” Elliott asked. Sometimes Cameron thought a random person in France would know how close he and Zacky were. You only had to go as far as the official team Instagram to find content of the two of them being inseparable. The year before, they had even had an intermission segment about their friendship air on the broadcast. There was no way Brian, who should be paying closer attention to the Jackets than anyone else, wouldn’t know that Zacky and Cameron were close and he should keep his rude comments to himself.

“Friendship aside, anyone would prefer a better player on their wing than they’re used to playing with.”

Cameron was off the bed in seconds, the momentum of his body caught by Eddie’s swift action, his arms holding Cameron back.

“It’s fucking hilarious that you think you’re better than him. I never have to think about where Zack is when I pass to him, and you couldn’t catch a pass from my stick with a fishing net.”

“Maybe it’s a good time for you to leave, Brian. Everyone can cool down before skate,” Eddie suggested in his captain voice. Steady and commanding.

“I don’t know why I have to leave.”

“Because you’re the one being a bitch,” Cameron snapped. Cameron was calm and good-natured, the one who always tried to keep everyone in a good mood and laughing. It took a lot to make him feel like this.

Brian rolled his eyes at Cameron and looked around the room to see if anyone was on his side. No one was. “Fine.”

The door shut behind him as he left, and Eddie relaxed his grip on Cameron.

“I hate him.”

“I’m going to suggest to Coach that we switch up the lines. Regardless of how you feel about each other, the two of you aren’t exactly dripping with chemistry.”

“I don’t want him on my line,” Shane complained.

“Well, Porter just has to heal his brain, and we can send this kid back down.”

One of the hardest parts of team sports was when you didn’t get along with your teammates. Cameron usually had good luck with it, and in the case of Zacky, optimal luck. His luck had to turn sometime.

Fans would often gather at the entrance of the hotel to catch guys for autographs when they were on the way to hop in the bus and go to the arena. A lot of them were older white guys who barely knew your name and wanted Eddie’s or Javier’s signature to sell. But there were a few younger fans who cared, too. Cameron didn’t get stopped much. He was never expecting someone asking for his autograph.

He walked right past the teenage girl with the hopeful look on her face because he assumed she would be there for Eddie or Ivan or Crosser. One of the guys who was beautiful. Not Cameron, a fourth liner with a hockey smile, holding on to his spot in the league by the skin of his teeth. Before Zacky got hurt, Cameron’s primary fear was going back to Allen to play on the YellowJackets’ AHL team. Every day, he got a pep talk from Zacky, and then whatever the opposite of a pep talk was from his dad. It was a cycle, and somehow, Zacky still had the patience to build him back up every day.

“Cam,” Elliott said, hand on his bicep before he got on the bus. “You got an autograph request.”

“Oh.” He scanned the small group of fans and a teen girl waved at him. He smiled and headed over to her.

“You’re my favorite player,” she said, her smile bright, braces on her teeth. She had a pop star on her hoodie, and when she held out an open palm, she had beaded bracelets. “I made these for you. And Zacky.”

Cameron took them and inspected them. They were both in YellowJackets colors with letter beads, one that said Zacky 14 and one that said Cameron 13. “These are awesome, thank you.”

“Can you give Zacky his? And pass along a ‘get well soon’?”

“Of course. I’ll let him know. He’ll be stoked for the bracelet.”

Her cheeks were bright red, her dad standing behind her reminding her she had a puck for him to sign too. Cameron signed a puck from Pride night with a silver Sharpie and gave her and her dad one more smile before he hopped on the bus.

At morning skate, they ran through a few drills with different line combinations. It took a while to build chemistry with a line, so switching it up a lot was counterproductive, but Cameron appreciated it. Coach clapped him on the back as the boys got off the ice, sweaty but not tired. By the time he made it back to his hotel room for a pre-game nap, he was grateful for how quickly his buzzed hair dried after a shower, because his head was on the pillow immediately.

He had updates from Camilla on his phone. A selfie of the two of them and a brief menu of everything she would make and freeze for them. She was an angel. It reminded him of the bracelets in his pocket, which he fished out and took a photo of to send to Zacky. He wasn’t supposed to have a lot of screen time, but one photo would be okay. Got these today from a fan. Promised to bring yours back for you.

Cameron set an alarm on his phone, slid one bracelet on his wrist, and put one in the front pocket of his backpack. When he lay back down on the bed, he realized he was wearing the Zacky bracelet. He was too fucking tired to switch it out.

“Right behind you,” Cameron shouted to Elliott as their line entered the attack zone. Elliott dropped the puck back to him. Three Buffalo players were between Cameron and the goalie. Without a clear shot, he passed the puck back to Javier at the blue line, and Cameron hustled to get net-front. The game had been chugging along at a good pace, the score 1–1 as they came into the third. Cameron was having about as much fun playing hockey as he could without his best friend.

His job when he was net-front was to take away the goalie’s eyes, which he was good at because he was big. If his utility on the ice was to be big and tough, he would be big and tough. Right now, he wasn’t going to score a sick top-shelf snipe, but he might make it possible for Elliott to put one in the back of the net.

He kept vigilant as CJ slammed a Buffalo player against the boards, and there was a battle for the puck. It popped out of the scrum and Elliott caught it on the toe of his stick, not hesitating for a second before he released a nice little wrister. It was headed toward Cameron, and all Cameron could do was attempt to tip the puck away from his own body and into the net. He got his stick blade into a hopeful position, and the puck skated right off of it and up over his shoulder and the shoulder of the goalie he was blocking. The swish of the net as the goal horn went off was the prettiest sight.

He threw his hands up in triumph as the goalie shoved him out of his space. Elliott, CJ, Javier, and Marty crushed Cameron in a hug, and his smile was huge as he skated to the bench for fly-by fist bumps. It was his third goal of the season. When you were a guy who didn’t come into a game assuming you’d score, the shots that made it into the back of the net were pretty important. Even if Elliott’s primary assist did most of the work, it still would go on the box score as Cameron’s goal, so it counted.

Cameron stripped out of his gear and got shoulder and butt pats from the boys. It was while he was doing a short interview with some beat reporter that he realized he was still wearing the bracelet with Zacky’s name on it. He’d thought of taking it off when he was getting ready to hit the ice, but he’d stopped himself. And now he was glad he did.

Cameron scored so infrequently that any change in variables was notable. So even though it might be slightly embarrassing to commit to the bracelet, he had no choice. It was lucky now.

They went straight from the arena to the airport, and Cameron would catch a plane nap in his game-day suit as they flew to Pittsburgh for the last game of the roadie. He checked his phone as he got seated. His voicemail inbox held a transcript of his dad’s post-game call that didn’t even mention his goal. Cameron didn’t need to hear the criticism.

While he thought about what to text his dad, he thumbed over to his thread with Zacky’s mom. There was a photo of Zacky up on his feet, shouting. It was a Live Photo, which Cameron didn’t think Camilla sent on purpose. But he watched the little clip of Zacky jumping out of his seat after Cameron’s goal, and his dad’s voicemail floated out of his mind.

For the first time in a while, he forgot to send his dad a text.

Zacky’s lucky bracelet wasn’t done being lucky. Cameron was back on a line with Elliott and CJ in Pittsburgh, and he scooped up an assist and helped kill three penalties. He was on the second PK unit, and he felt good about the choices he made while they had a guy in the box.

They lost, due to more than a bad turnover in their D-zone by Brian. Plenty of mistakes were made. But Brian’s was the most notable mistake from anyone on the ice that night, and Cameron felt justified in putting the blame on his shoulders. Still, he felt classy about not yelling at him about it, or even rolling his eyes in Brian’s sight.

Instead, he kept his head down and put in the work, and even though they lost, he felt good about his efforts. And better about the fact that they would head home after this game. Another post-game flight, but when he fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, it would be in his own bed.

The voicemail from his dad was longer than it normally was. He was mad that Cameron didn’t text him back, and that he had ignored the call that came in during Cameron’s pre-game nap. Neither incident was Cameron’s conscious choice. He put his phone on Do Not Disturb during naps, and he genuinely had forgotten to reply to the text the night before. But it felt…good. If he didn’t have Zacky right next to him with a constant, steady stream of fuck that guy ’s in his ear, he’d have to step up and try to make himself feel better on his own. A tall order.

This time, he swiped left on his voicemail and trashed it. He had a long text from Camilla recapping her time with Zacky, which went well. She took him to a doctor’s appointment that day and he was cleared for a bit of screen time. The concussion symptoms were getting better, even if his memories were still as gone as they’d been when he’d woken up the morning after.

Cameron had a restless two-hour nap on the plane, and when he finally got home, he tried to be quiet to not wake Zacky up. However, Zacky must have been waiting for him because he stirred as soon as Cameron came in the room.

“Sorry,” he whispered as Zacky pushed himself up to sit against the headboard.

“No, I was hoping I’d see you when you got home.” Zacky’s voice was raspy with sleep, and Cameron didn’t bother with finding pajama pants or fishing his toothbrush out of his suitcase. He stripped out of his suit and slipped under the covers in his boxers. “I missed you.”

Zacky didn’t waste time. He scooted close and Cameron wrapped him up in a hug. Or whatever counted as a hug while horizontal. Cuddling, probably.

“It’s good to be home. I’m exhausted.”

“You played so well.”

“I have my lucky bracelet on.” Cameron lifted his arm a bit to show him.

“Oh, the one the kid made you with your name on it?”

“I accidentally put yours on, and now I can’t take it off.”

“So you’re out here scoring goals wearing a beaded bracelet with my name on it?”

“Confirmed.”

“If that breaks and you get beads all over the ice, you’re going to get a delay-of-game penalty.”

“It won’t,” Cameron said. But now that Zacky brought it up, that was something to consider.

“I finally got to watch the game last night.”

“Good.” Cameron tucked Zacky closer to his chest. He felt like he just stepped off the ice, he was so tired. The plane nap hadn’t made a dent. The mental and physical exhaustion meant his wires were getting crossed. Before he fell completely asleep, he pressed a kiss to Zacky’s forehead.