Page 88 of Full Tilt
He exhales, quiet but weighted, and says, “He would’ve loved this.”
I tilt my head just slightly, brushing my nose against his. “Who?”
“Lachie.”
My chest tightens instantly, the joy in my blood settling into something quieter. “Yeah,” I say, voice low. “He would’ve.”
Cam’s gaze dips for a second, his arms staying firmly around me.
I nod, letting the shift in mood settle between us as I keep close. “How’s he doing?”
Cam’s lips press together. “Healing, slowly. He’s still not talking. I sent him some photos earlier—got a few texts back. Short ones.”
A pause. Then, almost guiltily, he adds, “I think he’s… struggling.”
My fingers tighten slightly at the back of Cam’s neck. “It’s only been three weeks. He’s allowed to be.”
Cam nods, but there’s a heaviness in the gesture. I can see how much it’s still sitting with him. “His brother’s looking after him. Said they’ll reassess things with his specialists soon. But he’s obviously not coming to the States now. He was meant to be there with us.”
My heart aches for both of them—for Lachie, for Cam who’s spent half the season leaning on a teammate now stuck watching from the sidelines. I press a kiss to his cheek. “He’ll get there. And you’re doing right by him.”
Cam tries to smile, but there’s a shadow in his eyes. “I just… hate not being there. But his brother’s doing good by him. Still—feels wrong, y’know?”
I squeeze his hand, tucking my chin against his shoulder. “I get it. But you’re allowed to live your life, too, Cam. You didn’t abandon him. He knows that.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then he whispers, “I just want him okay.”
“We both do.”
The song shifts again, but we don’t stop moving. I don’t think either of us wants to.
He finally speaks again. “You’re flying out tomorrow, right?”
“Yep. Heathrow, midday check-in.” I frown a little. “You know that. You’re the one driving me.”
Cam shrugs, and there’s this flicker of something in his eyes—like nerves, or maybe anticipation. His grip on my hand shifts slightly, firmer, warmer. “Just making sure,” he says, but his voice is quieter now. He looks away, his gaze skimming the string lights above us and the blur of motion on the dance floor. Then, after a long beat, he says, “I’ve always wondered what an authentic Fourth of July celebration is like.”
My heart stutters, confused for half a second. “Okay…?”
He knows what getting back to the States for the holiday means to me—being with my family, the food, the noise, the ridiculous number of flag-themed desserts my cousin Julia insists on baking every year.
Cam clears his throat, nervous now, like he’s working himself up to something. Then he looks right at me, eyes steady. “I was thinking…” His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist. “Maybe I could fly out tomorrow. With you. Ahead of the team. See what Independence Day is really all about for myself.”
For a second, I just blink. Like my brain’s still booting up. “You’d do that?” I manage eventually, barely a whisper. “You want to?”
He nods, jaw tight, but there’s something hopeful in his eyes. “Yeah. I mean… as long as I’m at the hotel in Jacksonville by the time the team flies in, I’m good. Cleared it with Coach already.”
It hits me all at once—what he’s saying, what it means. He’s not just tagging along. He’s choosing to spend those days with me. With my family. He’s taking time—precious time, right before his Southeastern US tour—to come be a part of my life in a way I didn’t expect he ever would.
My chest goes tight, and something warm and wide blooms in my gut. “Cam,” I say, a little breathless, “that’s… that’s a big deal.”
His mouth lifts at one corner, soft and lopsided. “You’re a big deal.”
Jesus Christ.
I stare at him, stunned, for a beat too long before a laugh bursts out of me, unexpected and full of feeling. “You’re seriously going to eat three kinds of barbecue, meet every single one of my siblings—including having to deal with Cosmo—and survive an inquisition from my mom?”
He grins now. “I’ve played international rugby. I think I can handle a few of your relatives.”
