Page 66 of You Are Cordially Invited

“I wasn’t unconscious,” I muttered. “He had plenty of opportunities to at least give me a heads-up, especially once I started to get movement back. I would’ve trusted him to handle it, but to not even tell me? And wasn’t it you who said I needed to step up and call him on stuff?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Reuben, since when do you listen to me? And I didn’t use those words, I don’t think. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have suggested you choose this particular moment to make a stand.” Her brows knitted. “So, where is he now?”

I shrugged and tried not to show how hurt I was that I hadn’t heard from him in nearly six hours. “I have no fucking idea. He at least knows about the imaging results; I asked Leyton to call him. Not that he’s bothered to get back.”

Craig punched me lightly on the arm. “You guys will be okay.”

I glanced up and snorted. “And this is from your wealth of relationship experience, right, brother?”

He gave a low whistle. “Ouch. I might know shit in my own life, but I know you two are made for each other.”

It was the closest he’d ever come to giving us his blessing, not that we needed it. Still, it felt good, and I’d been a dick, again. “Thanks. And I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, you did, you fucker,” he answered with a grin.

They left when they saw my eyelids drooping, but it was only to pass Gary Knowles in the hallway, accompanied by the Blues’ coach and the All Blacks’ PR manager. Leyton arrived soon after, and the future of my rugby career was thrown on the table for everyone to hum and hah over.

I silently fumed. I’d wanted Cam to be here for this, and I was stung that he wasn’t. What the hell was going on?

In the end there wasn’t much to discuss. As expected, I was out for the rest of the season, and any return to rugby was dependent on my return to full strength and the recommendations of specialists down the track. A single episode of TQ was a potential contra-indication that would need a lot of consideration, and this early in my recovery, nothing was guaranteed.

The reality sank like a lead balloon in the room, but then conversation quickly returned to the positives and the fact that I was growing stronger by the hour. Together we crafted an optimistic but cautious press release.

We chatted for a few minutes about the offside tackle that had put me in here and the suspension of the prop involved. Gary handed me a personal letter of apology from the player, and I made a note to follow up with a call. Then they left to call their news conference to set all the rubbish rumours to rest, and I really hoped my dad would be watching. Arsehole.

A few friends and family popped their heads in for brief visits—word had clearly gotten out—although Michael and Sandy remained surprisingly absent. And still no Cam, although Nellie finally relayed a message to say he’d be back before dinner and that he was really happy I’d aced the imaging. He could’ve had them walk the damn phone to my room so I could talk to him myself, but nope.

How fucking thoughtful of him.

Nothing about any of this boded well.

I fumed and threw my pillow across the room. Well, more accurately, I dropped it off the side of the bed since I’d have lost an arm wrestle with a meercat.

There wasn’t a lot I could work through until Cam decided to show his face again, but there was one thing I could do, and it was well past time.

So, when Nellie and Roberta came in to change my bed linen, I asked Nellie if I could borrow his phone and made the call.

“Who’s this?”

I winced at the foul voice I hadn’t heard close to my ear for a long, long time. “It’s Reuben.”

“What the fuck do you want?” my father asked, immediately wary.

“To tell you to keep your poisonous comments to yourself. I’m done with you fucking with my family and my career.”

“Yeah, I heard that you’d walk again. Shame. I doubthewould’ve stayed with you if you couldn’t fuck him.”

Jesus Christ. Thirty seconds and I already needed a shower. “Shut your mouth.”

“Or what?” Brian Taylor scoffed. “What the hell are you gonna do about it? It’s a free country. I can say what the fuck I like. Have I upset your faggotgirlfriend? Is that why you rang? You better warn that fucker I don’t threaten easy. Maybe when you’re away sometime, I’ll come around with a few of my mates and show him how real men fuck.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Or maybe I might just show that text of his to the police. I’m feeling so unsafe.” He laughed in that ugly way that used to send me running as a kid knowing his belt would soon follow.

I wanted to punch him. “You touch CamorCory and I’ll make sure you pay for it, understand, old man?”

“Yeah, right. Tell it to someone who gives a fuck. You might have Cory all tied up in a bow, safe and sound from his dear old granddad now, but that won’t last. They’ll drop that restraining order eventually and I’ll be right there, waiting. You can’t watch him all the time. Maybe he’d like to come on a holiday with his granddad? We could do with some bonding time. I hear he’s doing well in that new fancy school of his. I think I might stop by. But as for that fuckhole of yours, Cam?” he chuckled in a low voice. “Well, I’m thinking that queer’s fair game.”

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