Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Cam

I'm having a blissfully great dream—Athena lying next to me in bed, her hands drifting over all my body, stroking toward my cock, gripping, pumping, and?—

A shock of cold shoots through me.

For a second, I think I'm still in my dream, think I'm imagining her with cold hands as she jerks me off.

Then I realize it's not just cold.

But… wet.

"What the fuck?"

Sleep is gone in an instant and I swipe a hand over my face, sending droplets scattering, squinting and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. My head is swimming and if I'm not still drunk, I'm definitely buzzed.

"Clean up."

I jerk at the sharp words, nearly jab out my eye as I whip my head around to see Ats standing in the doorway.

"Wake up," she snaps, gaze locked onto mine. " Clean up. And get fucking dressed." She spins on her heel, heading for the hall before stopping and glaring at me over her shoulder. "And call your fucking mother."

Then she's gone, stomping down the hall.

I'm frozen for probably far too long, half-convinced that I'm still dreaming, but then I become aware of the water droplets.

They're sliding down my chest.

And they're fucking cold .

And I'm fucking naked.

What the?—

There's clattering from the kitchen, so I snap to attention, grabbing the towel and scrubbing it over my face, my hair and my fucking naked body.

I exhale, toss it to the side, stumble over to my duffle shoved in the corner of the room, and yank out some clothes. It takes me just a couple of minutes to get dressed, and the entire time the clanging doesn't stop.

Christ, will I even have a kitchen to return to by the time I get out there?

I hustle down the hall, and I'd be lying if I said my head wasn't spinning, the walls weren't moving.

Maybe beer and whisky was a bad idea.

But fuck it.

The off-season is here. The Grizzlies are advancing to the finals and I'm…

Crash.

"Shit," I mutter, turning the corner and heading into the kitchen.

Athena has a pot on the stove, and the fridge door is open, her shapely ass on full display as she pulls open one of the plastic drawers and then slams it closed. "What the fuck is this shit?" she snaps, stomping across the space and throwing open a cabinet before glancing over her shoulder and glaring at me. "Do you even have any food fit for human consumption?"

"It's just salad, Ats," I say, tamping down on my dick's reaction to her lush ass. "And protein bars and?—"

"Rice and chicken and fucking broccoli," she snaps. "Where's the chocolate? Where's the chips? Where's the junk food you can gorge on?"

"I feel like shit after eating that crap," I mutter.

A huffed-out laugh. "And you don't feel like shit half-drunk after"—she yanks open the top of the freestanding trash can—"downing an entire bottle of whisky and case of beer?"

She has a point.

But I can't bring myself to agree with her.

Because I feel like shit right about now—and that's with the buzz still clinging to my brain.

"And to do that all without any junk food?" she snaps, throwing up her hands and stomping to the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask when she flings it open so hard it slams into the wall.

A fierce glare over her shoulder before she stomps down the stairs and over to her car, wrenching open that door with a sickening screech. It's starting to rain, the sky clouded over, the drops turning the dirt in front of my cabin into a Pollock-like smattering of dark brown and light.

"Christ," I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I hear her slam the driver's side door then watch as she storms back over, a tote bag in hand. She shoves by me and moves into the kitchen, slamming it down onto the old wooden table.

"What are you doing?" I ask as she reaches inside the canvas bag.

"Offering up my Car Snacks to a dumbass hockey player," she mutters. "Close the door." A snapped-out order. "It's getting fucking cold out there."

Right.

The wind's blowing, those drops falling harder.

A storm's coming in.

I frown, study the sky, the river, then open my mouth to tell her that it looks bad and she should go?—

"And fucking lock it this time," she snaps, distracting me. "Since you're going to stop being an idiot and remember that doors have locks and bad guys are everywhere and you're not usually a goddamned idiot when it comes to your personal safety!"

Confusion is shoved out by annoyance. "Look, Ats," I grind out. "I don't know why you're here, but I didn't ask for a Jackson invasion."

"You've been out of contact for several days. Haven't returned calls or texts—" She fixes me in place with another fierce glare. "And your mom is worried."

That, like nothing else, is what tamps down my frustration.

My mom's worried?

"Fuck," I mutter, any vestiges of my drunkenness disappearing like so much smoke.

"Yeah," she says, slamming down a bowl and dumping ingredients inside. " Exactly ." A nod to my cell, sitting haphazardly on the coffee table where I must have left it before I put it on Do Not Disturb and passed out.

And also why I hadn't heard it ring?—

I unlock it, glance at the screen, see that the battery is low, and…

That there are twenty calls and near-on one hundred messages.

Damn.

They weren't all directed at me—the bulk were from our family's group chat. Pictures of the kids, comments on how cute they are, an event at Frankie's shop with all of Stoneybrook seeming to show up. Misty had knitted a new blanket for Chloe and they were planning a summer trip and wanted opinions on where to go.

But a handful were sent only to me.

Damn.

I scroll through them, delete the voicemails without listening to them—the transcripts my phone shows me are enough.

They're worried.

But most especially my mom.

I hit the button for her contact listing, lift the phone to my ear when the call connects and begins ringing.

And doesn't finish.

Because she picks up almost immediately.

Double damn.

"Cam, honey," she says quickly. "Are you okay?"

Not good enough. Not ever enough.

The thoughts cut deeply, but there will be plenty of time for guilt later. "I'm fine, Mom. Sorry I worried you. I was playing with my friends, had a bit too much to drink, and was sleeping it off."

There's a long moment of silence.

"It's summer, remember?" I find myself filling in the quiet, not wanting to hear the disappointment that I know is sure to follow. "We worked our asses off, and I just…needed a break. Don't worry," I add with a laugh. "I'm not twenty-one anymore. The hangover isn't worth it. Neither are the extra hours I'll have to do in the gym to make up for the crap I've been eating the last few days."

"Oh, honey," she says, and her next words tell me that I've curbed her worry and focused her on the right thing.

My stomach.

Instead of my brain and heart—both of which are hurting.

Have been hurting.

But I don't want to think about that.

Thankfully, she picks up on the thread and runs with it. "I know that you've got to hit your micros—or whatever that stuff is called—but it's the off-season now. You deserve to take that break."

"Well, I definitely had one," I remind her, keeping my tone deliberately light. "And it's macros, by the way."

"Pish," she says. "Micros. Macros. Same difference. Now, when will you be back in the Bay? I'm going to send you some food."

I smile, despite the throb in my head, despite my heart hurting because of…

"Next week. But as tempting as it is for you to overnight some of your lasagna," I tell her, "I think I'd better find my way back to my food plan."

Athena snorts, but I ignore her and spend the next couple of minutes talking my mom down from the food mailing edge.

I love her.

She's amazing.

But I really just need to be off the phone with her.

"Fine," she eventually relents, "but since we've decided we're taking our vacation on your coast?—"

"I told you I'd visit in a few weeks so you don't have?—"

She ignores me. "—I'll make sure you eat well then."

"Mom—"

"Oh," she says, distraction creeping into her tone. "Your dad's home and we're meeting the McCaulys for dinner. I'll talk to you soon, honey, okay?"

"I—"

"Love you, baby boy. Bye!"

I barely get my goodbye out before she's clicking off.

The whirlwind is gone, and I exhale.

"You're not really going to give up Car Snacks for salad, are you?"