Page 5 of Teasing

“You know you’re the only person in the world who names their car Agatha, right?” He laughs like it’s the first time he’s saying this instead of the hundred and forty-first.

Okay... maybe that’s ateeny-tinyexaggeration. But whatever. He says it a lot.

“Listen. She’s old and sturdy and looks like an Agatha. Shush and be nice to my car.” I turn the old girl on and pray the air-conditioning kicks in before I get so hot I stick to my seat, then lean my head back as I close my eyes. “What’s up?”

There’s a long pause where we basically listen to each other breathe, and I hate every second of it. I hate how awkward things have become these past few months. I hate that I don’t know how to fix it. And I hate that I stay quiet instead of saying something... but that’s exactly what I do anyway.

“I think I’m coming home,” he admits hesitantly, and my heart skips a beat.

“What?” The question is out before I even process his words.

Shoot.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he mumbles, and the sinking feeling in my stomach suddenly feels like a ten-ton anchor instead of indigestion.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that... It’s just?—”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I know.”

And he does. So I’ll give him that.

“What do you mean you’re coming home? Like, to visit?” I can count on one hand how many times Camden has visited Sugar Hill since he was drafted, and I wouldn’t even have to use my thumb. I might need both thumbs if I go back to when he left for college.

“No... like my agent just asked me if I’d be interested in being traded to the Philadelphia Kings.” Camden’s gravelly voice sounds so cautious, it hurts my heart. “It’s not like I’m getting a ton of playing time here.”

“And what did you tell him?” I ask, scared to death to let an ounce of hope creep in. When he doesn’t answer right away, I take that as my answer. Camden doesn’t want to come home. He wants to be as far away as possible. I don’t blame him. “I guess that was a stupid question.”

“Emmie...” Who knew one word could convey so much hurt. “I told him to make the trade.”

His words hang between us in the thick, humid summer air, leaving me terrified to cling to them the way I wish I could. The way I’m desperate to. “It’s not a done deal yet, but the Kings just lost their backup quarterback, and their third string sucks. I doubt I’ll see much action, but I’d be close to you.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until the first teardrop hits my bare arm. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah . . . I think I’m coming home.”

It shouldn’t be like this.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

“Come home, Camden,” I whisper, trying to hold back the sob threatening to rip free. “Please.”

“Jesus, Em. Breathe.” Guess I didn’t hide it well. “You’re not driving, right?”

“Not yet.” My chest shakes as the words get caught in my throat. “I just saw Dad. I’m in the parking lot.”

“Was it a good day?” he asks, hopeful.

My heart sinks. “No.”

“You gonna be okay to drive home?” Camden does a lousy job of hiding his concern. He’s always wanted to be my protector.

Even if he couldn’t always protect me.

Even when he couldn’t protect himself.

I square my shoulders and wipe my eyes. “When will you know?”

“Soon. Probably before the end of the week.”

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