Page 62 of Puck Struck
"So we have two weeks," Cam says finally. "What's the plan?"
"We gather evidence. Document everything." I tap my fingers against the counter, thinking. "And we find out everything we can about JamesHarmon."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we dig. Where he works, where he lives, who his connections are. The more we know about him, the better equipped we are to fight back."
Cam looks doubtful. "And how do we do that without him knowing we’re nosing around when he’s literally got someone watching our every movement?"
"Carefully." I meet his gaze. "And we don't let him isolate you. That's what he wants. It's how guys like him operate. They cut you off from support, make you feel like you have no choice but to give in."
I don't mention that I've seen this pattern before. I don't tell him about my father's mind games, the way he'd isolate my mother, make her feel crazy for questioning him. Some wounds are still too raw to poke at.
"We have a game tomorrow," I remind him, changing the subject. "We need to focus on that, too."
"How?" Cam asks, throwing up his hands. "How the hell am I supposed to focus on hockey when this is hanging over my head? Over our heads?"
"Because it's the one thing he can't touch unless you let him." I step closer, taking in a deep breath, letting the scent of his cologne fill my lungs. "On the ice, you're untouchable. You're Cam Foster, rookie phenom. Not Connor. Not anyone's victim. And every minute you play your best is a minute he doesn't control you."
Something flickers in Cam's eyes. It looks like determination. And that’s fucking powerful for him, exactly what he needs right now.
"Besides," I say, "the team needs us. Both of us."
"We've been playing better together." The corners of his lips curl up the slightest bit.
"Damn right we have." I almost match his smile. "We keep that up, we clinch playoffs in the next three games."
Cam nods, a hint of his usual confidence returning. "Yeah. Okay. I, ah, I should go. Thanks."
"Stay for dinner," I say.
He hesitates. "I don't want to intrude."
"You're not. And I'm not letting you sit alone in your apartment tonight. That's exactly what he wants."
Cam studies me for a long moment, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "Why are you doing all this?"
"Doing what?"
"Protecting me. Risking your family's safety. Your career."
The question catches me off guard. WhyamI doing this? Because it's the right thing? Because I can't stand bullies? Because the thought of him facing this alone makes something in my chest clench painfully?
"Because no one deserves to be controlled like that," I finally say. "Not even cocky rookies who drive me insane."
The corner of his mouth quirks up a notch more. "I drive you insane?"
"You absolutely do." But there's no bite to it. Not anymore.
A soft cough interrupts us. Tessa stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised. "Everything okay in here?"
"Fine," I say quickly, knowing there’s a longer, tougher conversation I need to have with my sister once I figure out the next steps. "Cam's staying for dinner."
She glances between us, clearly reading more into the situation than I'm comfortable with. "Great. I'll set another plate."
When she's gone, Cam turns to me. "We should tell her. About James. You can’t keep her in the dark. She needs to know what we’re dealing with. She has your nephew to think about."
"I know, I know. I just need to figure out how to keepthem safe. I’ll do some research, look up security systems and cameras. And I’ll call that security firm the team uses."
