10. Cam

CHAPTER 10

CAM

S loane came to my rescue back there.

Between the crushing crowd of people and Jamie’s touchy-feely hands, I couldn’t wait to escape the bonfire.

I’m already breathing easier the further we get from the lake.

I turn the volume on the radio down, lowering the Red Hot Chili Peppers to a more acceptable decibel level.

“Thanks for the save.” Taking my eyes off the dark road for a split second, I slide to meet her gaze.

“No problem. Those big group things sometimes get overwhelming, ya know?” She smooths her dress down over her lap, the lights from the dash highlighting her high cheekbones.

God, she’s gorgeous.

“I’m kind of hungry and still pretty keyed up. You want to get something to eat? Maybe grab food at The Burger Basket?”

“Sure. ”

Relaxing into the comfortable leather seat, the muscles in my low back loosen as we drive toward town. Sloane hums along with the music, content to sit back and take in the scenery.

It’s nice being with someone I don’t have to be ‘on’ for. For the first time in a long time, I’m not worried about saying something stupid or trying to impress. With Sloane, I can relax. She knows me, we don’t have any secrets.

Well, I have the one secret. The dumb mistake I made that got me and two of my buddies cut from the team. That and my shitty scoring record this year.

But there’s already been too much drama tonight, what with the crowd at the bonfire and the little dust-up between Gracelyn and Jamie.

No need to dredge up the video right now. Besides, if all goes well here and I’m picked up by another team, no one has to know about it anyway.

“Cam? You passed The Burger Basket.”

“Oh shit, I did.” I spin the wheel and make a hard left turn, popping a quick one-eighty.

“You okay? You really zoned out there.”

I check the side mirror, pulling into an empty spot. “Yeah, all good.”

Locking the car—although that’s more out of habit than necessity in Thunder Creek—we head into the restaurant, the one and only late-night spot in town.

“Good to see nothing’s changed,” I say, holding the glass door open for her. “Same linoleum, same pink stools and metal counter.”

“Same great service too,” Sloane whispers, leaning in close to my ear. She smells nice, like soft florals mixed with bonfire smoke, and I wonder what she’d taste like. I follow behind her through the almost-empty dining room—we’re kind of between popular times, dinner having passed and the late-night crowd still out partying.

“This work?” She waves her hand at an empty turquoise booth in the back and I nod.

“Sure.”

We sink into the pleather seats and Sloane plucks a menu from behind the silver napkin dispenser, handing it to me.

“You still get the usual?” I ask, perusing the choices. Doesn’t seem like they’ve updated the menu since I left, either.

“You know it. Chocolate milkshake, double cherries, with a side of fries. Hits the spot every time.”

“That does sound tempting—” I glance over the plastic menu and the pink tip of her tongue darts out, licking her lip.

“Don’t go ordering something healthy, like the cottage cheese on lettuce,” she teases, flicking the back of my menu, and I chuckle.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Your dad worked me hard today—I’m entitled to a cheeseburger every now and then.”

“Hiya, kids.” Angela, a waitress who’s worked here as long as I can remember, slides over to take our order. She pulls a pencil from behind her ear, hovers it over the order pad. “Great to see you two, just like old times. What’ll ya have?”

I motion at Sloane and she places her order, then I make mine and Angela shuffles away to grab us waters.

“I think she changed her hair color since last week. Last time I saw her, it was definitely pink.” Sloane rips the wrapper from her straw, wadding the paper into a tiny white ball .

“The lilac suits her. Matches the décor here nicely.”

Sloane grins as Angela deposits two glasses of water and the chocolate shake on the table.

“Food’ll be out in a sec, kids.” Then she hustles away again, a table at the opposite side of the dining room signaling for their check.

“So—you have any big plans for the summer?” I ask.

Sloane pops a cherry off the blob of whipped cream in her shake.

“I think I might apply for a job at the library. Could be fun for a while.” She sucks the cherry into her mouth, pulling the fruit from the stem, and I try not to stare at the perfect pink circle of her lips.

I wipe my palms down my jeans, stretch my legs out under the table, trying to get comfortable in the increasingly tight denim.

“You always loved to read. Sounds like a good fit.”

“I thought so.” She pops a second cherry in her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue, and now I have a rapidly growing stiffy. Good thing I’m covered by the table.

“How’s your family? They moved out to Colorado, right?”

“Yeah. My sister Jessica has two kids now, and she and her husband have big jobs. They’re both lawyers and were struggling with childcare, so my parents decided to move closer and help out.”

“Wow—that was nice of them.”

I shrug. “My sister might have a different opinion. I think my mom was tired of traveling out there all the time to see her grandkids. She’s practically living with them now.”

Sloane giggles, a soft, tinkly sound that bounces off the hard surface of the table, her face glowing under the pendant light.

“And Ansley? Where’s she now?”

“Ans is out there now, too. She was in Manhattan for a while, but she said the city was bad for her chi. Blocked her chakras or something, I don’t know. She yaps so much about all that stuff, and I only understand like a quarter of it.”

Sloane sips at her milkshake, smiling. “Ansley was always entertaining. Do you get out there to visit much?”

“I’ve gone out a couple times. Jessica has a nice house in the ‘burbs. Last time I was relegated to the basement rec room because Ans had the guestroom, but it was fine. At least I had my own space.”

Angela bustles up to the table, lifting the baskets of food from a black tray and setting them down in front of Sloane and me.

“Here’s the burger and fries, kids. Enjoy.” She shuffles off without asking if we need anything else.

“Best fries in town.” Sloane salts the golden pile of crinkled potatoes and my stomach growls. Reaching for the ketchup, I squirt a healthy blob on the bun before taking a big bite.

“Mmmm—best burger too. I missed the burgers.”

“Dude—Chicago has great food! The pizza, the beef sandwiches, the sausages?—”

“The food was good. But nothing’s better than Southern cuisine.” I swallow hard, realizing how much I missed Thunder Creek.

And Sloane.

I should have reached out sooner.

But now’s not the time for regrets. There are plenty of those to go around at the moment .

“Remember when we came here after y’all won the State Championship?” She swirls her straw around in the melting chocolate shake.

“Yeah, that was a great night. Free food for the whole team and we doused your dad in lemonade, like we won the big game or something.”

She laughs, shaking her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “He did not love that. I do believe he grumbled about the lemonade ruining his shoes for a solid month afterwards.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And we got full access to the juke box and even the usuals didn’t mind listening to ‘Hey Jude’ on repeat.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, we were pretty obnoxious, in retrospect.”

Sloane’s hand darts out, squeezing my forearm. “But we beat Lighting Ridge! Y’all earned jukebox rights.”

“That was a great night. One of the best.” My gaze slides up to hers, the gold flecks in her wide hazel eyes glittering, and all the feelings come roaring back—from that night and all the other nights we spent together.

Hundreds of nights. The two of us talking and laughing, sharing the very best parts of ourselves with each other. But also the scary parts—the worries, the fears, anxiety about the future.

Sloane was the girl I let in, the one I trusted.

Why did I ever let that go? Let her slip through my fingers, like a grain of sand on the beach? As if she wasn’t special.

Because damn, she absolutely is.

You let her go to protect her. To give her a shot at a normal life. One without the pressure, the fear of failure, the uncertainty .

I didn’t drag her into the weeds then, and I shouldn’t now. No matter how badly I want to.

It’s not right.

She deserves more, better.

Sloane Carter deserves the fucking world—and I’m not the guy who can give it to her.

“Cam? You okay?” Her soft voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah. You save me any fries, Trouble?”

Shoving the basket toward me, I shoot her a laid-back grin and steal a fry. I need to stay superficial, need to be the fun version of myself.

It’ll be better—safer—for both of us.