Page 109 of Close Knit

I turn and look at her, really look at her. She has this uncanny knack of seeing straight into the heart of things.

It’s everything. Her laughter, her kindness, her just being there. She’s created this safe space around me, and for a moment, I want to be vulnerable. A part of me screams that after all my fuckups, I don’t deserve to be happy, but tonight I want to be brave. As brave as Daphne was when she announced she was going to kiss me that first night we spent together.

“You have me,” I mutter, the words feeling as true as the air I breathe. Like they’ve always been a part of me, just waiting for the right moment to be spoken. “You can do whatever you want with that, but you have me.”

She tips her temple to my shoulder and looks up at me. “You have me too.”

“Good.”

She tosses her legs over mine, scooting closer to the grass. The comforting weight of her body eases my nerves. “Maybe when we’re back in London, we can just…continue to spend time together?”

“I’d like that.” I don’t want anything to change between us.

“You know, I’ve fallen in love with my life there the past couple of months. A big part of that is thanks to you.”

My pulse elevates at her insinuation. The consequences of my actions at the Overton game multiply. I could truly lose my spot on the team. All the work I’ve put in, the fact that I’m in my prime, slipped away because I let Charlie’s betrayal get into my head once again.

I want a shot at making things right. I want a real shot at something real with this precious woman beside me.

“Same.” My voice is quiet. I’m dying to tell her that I’m crazy about her, that I’m praying to every god I know to get re-signed to Lyndhurst. But I can’t, because honestly, I’m waiting for the moment she realizes she’s worth more than everything I can try to provide her. So instead, I say, “With the tabloid drama back home, maybe we can just tell the people we’re close to that we’re dating?”

“That feels right to me.”

“And maybe I can spend the night at your place. If you’re okay with me waking up at 4:45 every morning?”

“Are you going to be grumpy if my livestreams go past midnight?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

“I like that. Guess that means I need to give you my spare key.” She squeezes me close. “Things are going to be different when we get back.”

The familiar strum of nerves returns, crashing me out of the little bubble we’ve built under the safety of the net. “How so?”

“Well, the last few days, being back home, I realized that I’m glad I took a social media detox. I really needed it to clear my head. I gave those bullies way too much power over me, and I don’t want to do that anymore,” she says, running her hand over my stubble.

“What’s your plan, sweet girl?”

“I don’t want to be scared of being in the public eye. Sure, the ridiculous tabloids brought in a lot of hate, but theStone Timesarticle about my beanies gave me the boost I needed to start my retreat. So, in a way, the media helped me.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever felt the same way,” I grunt, uneasiness building in my chest. “But I hear where you’re coming from.”

Those around me, from Charlie to Mal, have all benefited from the toxic press. Charlie returned to the starting string. Mal got herLust Islandspot and the chance to be the victim after my livestream hit the news. Everyone seems to be using the tabloids to their advantage, but I have no interest in that. The last thing those vultures need is more of my blood.

“Your family seems to have a good perspective on the whole media circus. The headlines are impossible to run from, and, like you just saw, I can’t run very far.” She nudges me, trying to lighten the mood.

“None of them experienced it the way I have.”

“You’re right. I can’t imagine what those weeks after Charlie’s cruelty felt like,” she says with a trembling lip. For the first time, her understanding feels like pity. Though I’m certain that’s just my fear talking. “And honestly, what happened to you and what I experienced last month has made me realize that I want to use my platform to help people stand up to cyberbullying.”

Daphne Quinn is a saint.

“Has anyone told you how incredible you are? Strong and determined. I’m so proud of you.”

“I like when you say nice things about me.” She chuckles.

I hesitate with the next words because they feel monumental. “I don’t want to hold you back. I want to support you in every way I can, but I don’t think I’m ever going to be ready to return to the limelight after what happened.” The last thing I would want is to have my scandal and shame associated with her well-deserved and impactful success. Maybe, in this way, our worlds don’t mix well.

“Cameron, if you want to keep a low profile, then I’m fine with that.” Her hand finds mine, stopping the picking I didn’t even realize I was doing. “Hopefully, when we get back, the only articles that’ll get published will be about my initiatives and your football.”

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