Page 61 of Hot Damn
“Of course!”
I laugh. The tension inside me easing with every second.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He tips his head at the detectives before heading back to the girls.
“You’ve got a good friend there,” Anders says.
“He’s more than a friend.” I watch as Cami hands over her keys, pauses then hands her bag to Whit. “He’s a brother.”
It isn’t until I hear those words out loud that I realize Whit isn’t the only one getting something from our move to Baton Rouge. We’re both surrounded by the Rogues family.
Chase dropped everything to run here—run!—to support me and Whit in any way he could. He didn’t have a clue what he was running in to. Didn’t have to come at all. We’ve formed a bond on the ice, yes, but this…
This is something Whit and I have never had.
A family who supports us unconditionally.
The emotion that sweeps through me is overwhelming, clogs my throat, and makes my knees wobble, and it doesn’t matter how isolated I’ve kept myself and Whit over the years, how safe that made me feel, I’ll never go back to that.
Even with this reporter causing trouble.
I’ll gladly take him on because I’ve got a family who’ll stand at my side when I do.
Cami
My hip aches. I can’t find any position that doesn’t send pain shooting down my leg or up my spine. Shifting, I try to ease the discomfort. Except nothing I do does.
When I get my hands on Kenneth, I’m going to knock his fucking teeth out.
“Hey. You okay?”
I glance up at Beckett. “Yes.” The word sounds like it’s been ground into dust.
“Sounds like it,” he says with a smirk. “Can I get you another drink?”
“No. You can get me out of here.”
His eyebrows shoot up, his eyes wide and shocked for a moment before concern floods them. “How much pain are you in? Should I take you to the hospital?”
“No. I don’t need a hospital. I need a hot bath and for all these people to take their concern somewhere else.”
“Cami.” His says my name with so much feeling that my eyes water.
Dammit.
“They’re worried about you.”
“I get that. I do. But it’s…” I try to think of a word that won’t make me seem ungrateful but can’t. “Suffocating.”
“No one’s hovering.” Beckett looks around and I follow his gaze.
He’s right. No one has hovered. They send me smiles or cocked eyebrows on occasion and I smile to let them know I’m fine. Except I’ve been doing it for two hours.
I’m tired.
Sore.
Cranky.
