Page 12 of Puck Struck
I don’t know how many times the image of Cam stripping down in the room last night looped through my mind before sleep finally, and mercifully, consumed me. But it haunts me again now that I’m awake and staring at him.
The fact that he’s gorgeous really pisses me off. It’s bad enough that he’s annoying as fuck and arrogant as the day is long. But does he really have to have a face like goddamn Chris Hemsworth and the body of Thor?
My shoulder throbs with every movement beneath the blankets, and the hotel bed feels like it was designed by someone who’s never had to fall asleep after blocking shots with their spine.
Cam’s sketchpad is open on his chest. I peer at the page hanging over the side. A cartoon dinosaur glares at me from the page, mid-roar and wielding a hockey stick.
I don’t mean to smile, but I do. It’s cute. Stupid. Somehow…disarming.
I struggle to sit up with a groan, rub my shoulder, and quietly grab my phone from the nightstand. Cam’s breathing is steady and soft. Definitely still sleeping.
I swing my legs around and move to the corner of the room by the window. Then I tap the screen and dial my sister, Tessa.
She answers on the second ring. “Everything okay? It’s pretty early, even for you.”
“Yeah,” I say in a low voice, my eyes flicking to Cam’s bed. “Just checking in. How’s Ethan doing?”
“We’ll see how things go today. I scheduled an appointment for Monday. I’ll keep you posted.”
I nod, even though she can’t see it. “You think he’s okay?”
There’s a pause.
“He’s just tired, Lo. You know how it is. You’ve seen it. It just makes me nervous because it seems to be more than usual. But that’s why we’re going to the doctor. He’ll run some routine tests and then…”
Tessa’s voice trails off. My nephew Ethan’s rare congenital liver condition is something he was born with, something that is manageable…until it’s not. For years, his liver activity has been monitored closely and yeah, we’ve seen little blips here and there, but nothing concerning to his doctors.
I let out an unsteady breath, tension winding around my spine.
This time…I don’t know. Something feels different, and I don’t like it at all. I wish I was there to hug my sister, to promise her that everything would be okay. So much isn’t, though. So much will never be right again and that makes my gut clench.
She can’t deal with any more loss. None of us can.
I wrap my fingers tight around the phone. “You’ll tell me the second something changes?”
“I always do.” Another pause. Then softly she says, “Take care of yourself, too, okay?”
“Yep. Love you.” I click to end the call and stare out at the gray Colorado skyline, my heart lodging in my throat.
A rustling of blankets jerks me from my thoughts.
“You’ve got a kid?”
I turn to see Cam sitting up, eyes still bleary, hair a mess, but fully awake and watching me like he’s just solved a puzzle.
My jaw tightens, fists clenching tight. “What?”
“Ethan,” Cam says, yawning as he stretches his arms overhead. “You said his name. Sounds like he means something to you.”
I just stare at him, anger battling the arousal swelling inside of me.
Cam shrugs. “I just didn’t know you were a family guy.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” The words are cold, sharp, and scathing, and Cam blinks, caught off guard. But his surprise only lasts for a second.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, brah. Just—” He rubs the back of his neck. “You sounded...I don’t know…different. That’s all.”
I take a few steps toward him. “You don’t get to comment on my life. We’re not friends, remember? Not now, not fucking ever. I thought I made that clear.”
