Page 28 of Trust Me Always

“We were fuck buddies all last year, and he wants to be again,” I deadpan.

Alister’s eyes shoot wide in horror, and after a single second, my family responds exactly how I anticipated.

They laugh loudly, shaking their heads, completely undeterred and used to my shit. I am my father’s daughter after all. If only they knew I wasn’t teasing.

It takes a moment, but Alister relaxes—though only a little; his laughter is stiff and fake.

I scoot forward, slapping two giant scoops of vanilla into a bowl and dumping a mountain of sprinkles on top.

There’s a shuffle behind me, and I don’t have to look to know he moved closer. Then his lips find my ear.

“Don’t forget the chocolate syrup,” he rasps.

The memory sends heat through me, and I don’t mean to look to the side, but our gazes catch regardless.

His eyes soften, regret and longing so easily seen that I become instantly aware of the audience we have.

Vivian and my mother have gone quiet, but I see them out of the corner of my eye. There will be no missingthat.

“Cam,” he whispers, stepping in more.

“Don’t.”

“Baby, please,” he murmurs, reaching for me.

My eyes start to close, the anticipation of his touch making me warm and fluttery, but then a sound somewhere to the side snaps me out of my momentary lapse in sanity.

I tear back, jerk away from the table, walk around my mom and Vivian, and speed back toward our group. Of course, that would be too easy, and this man clearly intends to make himself hard to forget.

“Wait.” Alister’s heavy footsteps follow. “Cameron, wait. Please just?—”

I spin around, slapping the ice cream into his neck, smearing it down his chest.

His hands go up, shocked at the cold or the act—maybe both, I don’t know—but I only blink at the man.

“Is Allana a fan of sprinkles? Maybe she can lick it off you later,” I whisper, saying without sayingfuck him and his memory of warm chocolate combined with the softness of his lips.

When I rejoin the group, my dad notices my empty hands and Brady notices my mood. I avoid my dad’s gaze in favor of Brady’s. He goes to launch himself up, but before he can, I shove his shoulder, dropping onto his lap.

His lips find my ears instantly and I know he spotted Alister. “Get up. Now.”

“No,” I mutter.

“Cameron.”

“Brady.”

“Get.Up.”

I shift, meeting his eyes, and whisper, “If I get up, you’re going to make a scene…in front of our entire family, his family, everyone on your team’s families. Just leave it.”

“Tell me what he did.”

I sigh. “He…made me miss him.” I scoff, closing my eyes at how dumb it sounds, and when I reopen them, Brady is staring down at me.

His mouth presses in a firm line, tiny worry lines formingalong his forehead, but he settles back, no longer trying to escape me.

“Okay, I’ll leave him be today,” he concedes in a whisper. “But tell me I can lay him on his ass at least once next practice.”

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