Page 117 of Already At Risk
And the scariest part about it was that it had nothing to do with the want and the yearning I’d felt with him in the bedroom. No, this was a different sort of desire. The desire to just hold someone’s hand because you cared about them, because you saw them, because you appreciated them.
“Did you go to a lot of games with your dad?” I asked, needing more of Cameron. I couldn’t touch him, but I could worm my way closer to him. Somehow.
“A few times a season,” he answered easily. “He was a lawyer, too, so he didn’t have a ton of free time, but whenever he could manage it, we would go. Uncle Tony and my grandpa liked to tag along sometimes.”
“That’s who was supposed to come today?”
He grimaced. “Yeah, Grandpa’s recovering from a bit of a fall. He should be okay, though.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I wrapped my fingers around the ball of yarn, once again resisting the urge to touch him. “I’m sure you miss them.”
“I do,” he acknowledged. “But I think I’ll try to visit home soon. And I’m happy I got to bring you and Chloe. You said once you’d always wanted to bring her to Fenway.”
I had said that, hadn’t I? And he remembered.
“She’sveryexcited,” I said, lowering my voice and glancing over to see Chloe on the edge of her seat, watching with fascination at the pre-game warm-ups, glove in hand. I looked back to Cameron to see him watching her, too. A bit of nostalgia swirled in his eyes, like he could see himself in her, and I liked that. He’d just wanted to share this experience with someone who might appreciate it, and Chloe was that person. I was, too, but mostly because it meant I got to spend the evening with them.
“I didn’t realize your dad was a lawyer,” I said, and Cameron’s head swiveled back, eyes finding me again. “Will you tell me more about him?” He gave me a funny stare, and I rushed to add, “You don’t have to, of course, if you’d prefer not to.”
“No, Sunshine.” He absently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear before seeming to realize what he was doing and dropping his hand. “I’d love to tell you about my dad.”
“What was his name?” I asked.
“Elijah.” He swallowed. “It’s my middle name.”
“Is he the reason you went into law?”
He nodded. “It wasn’t any kind of pressured thing. There wasn’t an expectation, but…”
“You wanted to?”
“I did,” he admitted, “though it’s…complicated.”
“You’ve listened to me talk a lot, Cameron.” I fiddled with the crochet hooks in my hands without taking my attention off him. I didn’t know how to look away. “I can be a good listener, too.”
Cameron’s eyes darted around the field, landing momentarily on Chloe, who was intently watching the big display screen, where an announcer was testing people in the stadium on their lyric knowledge of popular songs. She was giggling at the last person who’d just butchered “Pink Pony Club.”
“He was just a really good man,” Cameron said finally, looking back at me. “And even though our time together was cut short, being raised by such a loving and successful Black man really shaped me as a child and young adult. It gave me the example I’ve always tried to follow, both in my personal and professional life. I wasn’t the only person who looked up to him, either. He was the kind of guy neighbors called when they needed a hand fixing their fence or getting a ride to the airport. He was a good son. I was young, but I remember how broken he’d seemed when my grandma passed from cancer. His focus was entirely on my grandpa, though. Always making sure he was never alone, bringing him over for dinners multiple times a week. He’d get myuncle to come, too, pulling him out of his grief. And to my mom?—”
Cameron broke off, shaking his head.
“My parents were closer than any two people I’ve known.” The corner of Cameron’s mouth curved. “They met at a bar.”
His eyes were unblinking, not backing down from the way they were looking at me. Lookingthroughme, almost. Seeing everything.
My breath hitched.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, lips still tilting with the ghost of a smile. “My mom was behind the counter. It was her parents’ place. My dad asked to buy her a drink after her shift, and the rest was history.”
“He was as smooth a talker as you, then,” I said, suddenly feeling hot—a heat that had nothing to do with the balmy summer evening, the kind of weather that was perfect for a ballgame.
Cameron’s grin grew. “You think I’m a smooth talker, Natalie?”
I rolled my eyes, but it was playful. We both knew he was as smooth a talker as they came. “I thought maybe it was from being a lawyer, but now I know it’s just genetic.”
His smile was full now, as though he liked that—having another tie to his dad.
