Page 116 of The Long Game

I turned around. Faced him. Blocked his way into the cabin. Deep green eyes met mine, and I said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said back. His lips twitched, and I thought he’d give me a slow smile, which would dazzle me and perhaps distract me from my thoughts. But instead, he clenched his jaw. I watched his eyes as they roamed all over my face, settling on my lips for what felt like a long time, but was just a second or two, and that giddiness, that anticipation, before Cameron had been so uncharacteristically mine, bubbled up inside.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked him.

He brought his hand to my face, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. “Several things,” he confessed in that calm, stern tone, as if he didn’t mind I was keeping us from crossing the threshold of the door. “I’m thinking, thank God, that dinner is finally over.” I smiled at that, and the pad of his thumb grazed my bottom lip. “I’m also thinking, Christ, she’s so beautiful in this light. With the full moon shining so brightly over us. Would it be too corny to point it out? Would she laugh? I love her laugh.”

My smile fell, my heart doing this weird thing against the walls of my chest. “That would be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever been told.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, felt his pulseunder my thumb. It was a quick, hurried beat. Was he nervous, too? “I wouldn’t laugh. I would probably stall for a longer time.”

“Stall,” he repeated slowly. “Tell me why.”

I opened my mouth to say something I suspected sounded a lot like: Because it’s you, and it’s me. And I’ve never felt like this. But the answer that left me was, “It’s hard to explain.”

If today—the last days—had proved anything, it was that I wasn’t a seductress. And with Cameron I didn’t mind.It’s me who’s in charge. He said that earlier today. I wanted him to offer again. To take charge. I’d never felt safer, freer, than when he took over for me. And yet… this nervousness made me wonder and doubt myself. What could I possibly have done to deserve this, to earn him wanting me this much. I—

“Try me,” Cameron said.

“I…” I tried, knowing I probably would voice it in a way it didn’t make sense. “I’ve always felt like I never really clicked anywhere. Like, I always needed to make a bigger effort to show everyone that I deserved to be there. And here you are.” I shook my head. “Making me feel like you’d close the gap to get to me. Like, I don’t need to convince you. You—”

“Fuck him,” Cameron said, bringing my gaze to him. “Fuck them. Fuck everyone who has made you feel like you’re not worth everything you deserve.”

Something locked inside of my chest. Loudly. So very close to my heart. “You don’t have to—”

I was lifted up and dropped on a wide shoulder.

“No more overthinking,” he said, walking us both inside. “No more questioning how I feel toward you. I didn’t sit through a full hour of campfire songs so you could find a reason to boot me when I finally get you home.” His other hand fell over the backs of my knees, securing me against him, as if he feared I’d try to jump out of his arms. “This,” he said, stomping into the living room. “I had to restrain myself from taking you and throwing you over my shoulder like this. Josie is a horrible singer.”

I blinked down at his back, his ass, his long legs, and I… I burst out laughing.

He came to a stop immediately, loosening the vise of his arm, removing me from his shoulder, and placing me in front of him. I steadied myself against his chest.

“I’m already tempted to do that again,” he said, his eyes dancing between my mouth and eyes. The beating of his heart drumming against my palms, quicker than a few moments before. “I could do it every day. With every door.”

“It can be discussed.” I was still half laughing, but when Cameron’s jaw clenched again, all of that lightness dissolved. “Okay, I should give you your spoiled surprise.”

He opened his mouth, but I was already stepping away from him and whirling on my heels. I walked to the guest room and fished the gift out of the wardrobe I’d hid it in.

When I turned around, Cameron was leaning against the frame of his bedroom door, right across from mine. I swallowed. Padded closer to him with the pink bag in my hands.

I offered it to him.

Cameron opened it and extracted what was inside. The bag dropped to our feet. His hands held the shirt in the air.

“?‘This coach kicks monkey bum,’?” he read out loud. He swallowed. “?‘Coach Chamomile, Green Warriors of Green Oak. Six Hills Little League, NC.’?”

My heart raced. “It’s so silly,” I said, hearing my voice sound low and guarded. “I had it made so the girls could sign it tomorrow.” A shaky breath left me. “María helped come up with the first part.”

Cameron’s arms dropped. He looked at me with an emotion I didn’t recognize. One that wasn’t any of the ones I’d expected the shirt to cause.

“It was supposed to be a joke,” I explained. “I… I thought you’d find it funny.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “There’s no press attending tomorrow’s game, is there?”

My stomach dropped at my feet. “Of course not.”

“There hasn’t been any press at any game.”

My throat tightened, clogged, and I had to make myself swallow. “I would never put your anonymity or privacy at risk. Not after what you told me.”

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