Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Cam

I crack open my beer and sigh, looking at the paused game on my TV and wondering when in the fuck I've become so pathetic.

I know, of course.

The moment I asked for space instead of talked about my feelings.

But it's easier to lament about the fact that I'm a professional hockey player losing himself in video games on a Saturday night than my idiocy.

Easier to berate myself for spending a Saturday morning and afternoon playing video games by myself, followed by that Saturday night sharing a pizza with…myself.

After spending a week holed up in my misery, knowing I'm being a whiny toddler and unable to take the steps to fix it.

Unwilling to.

And to make matters worse—or better, depending on which way my mood is swinging—Rome and King have lives, so they haven't been on my ass, digging through the mess that's my head, and though Huddy looked at me sideways yesterday at the gym—probably because I ignored Coach's huffing and puffing and yell-the-house-down presence invading the weight room instead of engaging with it—he's not the type to sit down for a gab fest.

He did invite me to grab a beer with him—which told me enough: I'm looking as pathetic as I feel—but the gym was all I could manage. The idea of sitting in public, making small talk (however limited that would be with the taciturn Huddy) and watching women swoon over him gave me hives.

He'll likely charm them with his mysterious quiet instead of pushing them away, creating drama and a tangled mess that he'll be at a loss to sort.

And I would have sat there, knowing I'm being stupid, knowing I need to call her and apologize, but unable to take that step.

Sighing, I close the box of cold pizza and sit back on the couch with a groan.

So, my in-person friends have well-rounded lives.

And it's late enough that even my online friends aren't around right now to kill orcs and cast spells and generally play the world's nerdiest game.

Yup. I've hit a new low.

Of course, I could just pick up the phone and call Athena.

In fact, I almost do just that…

But it's late.

She needs her rest.

I'll call tomorrow?—

And I'll ignore the fact that I've been saying that for a week now as I pick up my controller and dive back into the next quest.

I do it drinking whisky and nibbling on cold pizza crust.

"Yup," I mutter. "I. Am. Pathetic."

I jab at the buttons, recharge my mana, upgrade my spells, collect some gold and several orc skins, and I'm just returning to town to turn in my loot when there's a knock at the door.

I toss the controller to the side in a hurry, far too excited by the prospect of someone saving me from my pathetic night to care who's on the other side?—

Hoping it's Athena so I can apologize.

Or if not, maybe it's King and Rory, and Rome and Chrissy with their pups, invading for an impromptu insanely late game night, making me forget that I haven't cuddled Cookie in a week.

Hell, maybe it's a fucking door-to-door salesperson and I can make awkward small talk while being sold an overpriced carpet cleaner at midnight.

I don't even care.

Anything's got to be better than sitting here, muttering about my mana levels and searching an animated forest for random chests of gold.

I push up from the couch, move to the front door, pull it open, and?—

My heart leaps.

I freeze. "Cupcake?"

Her mouth opens, but before she can yell at me for being an idiot, for making her make the first move to fix us, for putting us both through the shit when she was doing something to help me, she wavers, her hand going to her side, and?—

"Cam," she rasps, her knees giving way.

" Fuck!" I lurch forward, grabbing her before she collapses to the hard concrete of my porch.

She cries out when I catch her, when I lift her up and hold her against my chest, and I realize why when I feel something hot and sticky on my hands, my arms, soaking into my clothes.

"Athena," I hiss, bringing her inside, slamming the door closed behind us, flicking the lock.

Her eyes are barely open. "Cupcake," she corrects on a rasp.

My heart squeezes.

Christ. This fucking woman.

I love her so goddamned much.

"I need to get you to the hospital," I growl. "Need to call an ambulance."

Her lids peel back in a flash, hand suddenly gripping my wrist. "No ambulance. No hospital."

"You're bleeding, cupcake," I say, bringing her into the bathroom, setting her gently on the counter. I know I have a first aid kit under the sink, so I bend down, open the cabinet, reach for the plastic-sided container?—

"Not just bleeding," she forces out through rapid—and painful-sounding—exhalations. "Shot."

I freeze, fingers around the first aid kit. "What did you say?"

But I don't get the chance to hear the answer to my question.

Because now she's collapsing for real.

And when I catch her this time—barely managing to stop her from cracking her head on the marble countertop—a blood-soaked photograph falls out of her pocket, flutters to the ground.

I look down…

And see that it's Angela Rosseau.

Chrissy's, mom. Jean-Michel's ex. And the woman who's currently making big trouble for him.

What the actual fuck?

"Cam—" Athena's fingers wrap weakly around my wrist, and I tear my eyes from the photograph.

"Hold on, baby," I say as I open the first aid kit, grabbing a package of gauze, tearing the wrapper open with my teeth. "I need to get you to the hospital." I press it against her side, hate the cry of pain she gives in response. "You're?—"

"No hospital." Another light squeeze on my wrist as she battles with staying conscious. "Lex is already on his way."

I frown. "He's not even in town."

"Flew in yesterday," she grunts when I press harder, her blood already seeping through the gauze. "Help with." She hisses out a breath. "Case. Warehouse. Got them."

"I don't care. You?—"

POUND. POUND. POUND!

She smiles weakly. "See? Lex."

And then she passes out.