Buzz (The Riley Brothers Book 1) (11 page)

Everyone was here. No better time.

“Hey, guys.”

It was like they'd been waiting for the word. Conversations went quiet as his teammates and friends – dozens of guys who had run alongside, pushed up with, slapped pucks past, and slammed into him all season – turned to look at him.

Cam managed a smile.
Don't fuckin' cry.
“I'm, uh... I'm sick, you know that. Heart problem. They can't diagnose it.” There were murmurs of agreement. “And I'm fuckin' sorry I couldn't be there yesterday, or the games before.”

They all protested – “No, man, you were sick,” and, “It's not your fault.”

Cam smiled and waved off the comments, but shook his head. “Let me get through this without fuckin' embarrassing myself, already,” he laughed.

After a quiet murmur of laughter, silence fell.

“I lied to the papers. It's not temporary. I, uh, packed up my place today.”

“No way. The docs can't help you?” That was Matty, and he was shouldering his way past Chris and Gustav and Heinrich to get to him. He was... crushed. Everyone else barely breathed.

Cameron cleared his throat and shook his head. “Gotta wait in line with the rest of the public. I might as well do that in New Brunswick, back home.”

“What about the team--”

“No specialists felt confident in taking him on as a risk.” That was Coach Walker. “We tried. A... sister team... was willing to help.”

Coach Walker was trying to spare his feelings, but everyone knew who he meant.
They
were
going to make me an offer.

Cameron bit his lip hard for a moment, then shook his head, pretending he was just talking to Matty and Chris and Fisher. “So I'm out, and I don't think I'll get back.”

“I'm a decade older than you and I'm here,” Fisher told him with a frown, reaching out to slap his back. “Never say never.”

Cameron shook his head. “Then I won't say never. Just... not for the next couple seasons. Best case scenario, I see a doctor in a couple months, get surgery around November. And I can't properly train until then. All I can do is pickup games, you know?”

There was a world of difference between a basement gym and what Coach Walker would have had him doing this summer. “Then I spend a year catching up to where I am now. After that point, who knows? If they'll have me back, if I'm safe to play...”

Coach Walker was watching him hard.

“They can't even guarantee I won't have a heart attack at home in bed, let alone on the ice. I don't think it'll happen. But if it did... it'd be an honor to play with you guys again. I mean that.”

Matty silently hugged him while someone else reached out to crush his shoulder and tug him back and forth a little. His friends stepped forward to surround him while the others came up to punch his shoulder or shake his hands.

Cameron waved a hand after a minute of this. “Get the fuck off me, I'm gonna spend the summer lying around doing nothing. You guys deserve the party. Someone put the music on,” he ordered them with a laugh, and that finally broke the tension.

Laughter, music, beer.

A couple more beers for good measure as the hours passed.

His buddies, always there near him, recounting his best moments like he was the guest of honor.

The announcements of who got pulled over to the big league roster. Matty was one of them. He clapped harder than anyone for Matty and crushed Matty in a hug. Matty fucking deserved it. He'd been working his ass off all season and in the games Cam was off, he'd caught up in points.

He let his body metabolize the drinks he'd already had so he could drive.

They managed to give Coach Walker a round of applause and a toast before he escaped.

Music, laughter, the pool opening up, the greatest hits of team video highlights from the year playing on the big-screen above the pool. A fair number of manly tears hidden in the darkness outside. Girls arriving, more partying, louder laughter.

Time to go.

A sobriety test administered like it was a joke, and it made him smile. They did it to each other to be assholes, but because they cared, too. He walked the line just fine. He desperately wanted to drown his sorrows in beer like the rest of them, but he had to drive out early.

He couldn't get away without crushing hugs from Matty, Fisher, Chris, Gustav, K., Tom, – okay, this was getting fucking ridiculous. “I'm not dead, just two provinces over,” he teased them as he waved goodbye to everyone else. “I'm driving out early.”

“Don't you dare fuckin' disappear on us,” Matty warned him. “You're turning up for parties when and where we say.” The other guys laughed, but they agreed.

“Okay. Give me some notice and I'll be there,” Cam promised. He'd promise anything to these guys, and he intended to follow through. “And I'll be watching for you next season, superstar.”

Matty gave a bashful but pleased laugh and one of those broad sheepish grins. Just like last October, when he'd slapped the puck into Cam's fuckin' shoulder so hard it had bruised. Cam had nearly punched the grin off him, but they'd bonded afterwards.

“Bye for now,” Cam said so his heart would stop thudding. The music faded as he ducked out the door and his footsteps crunched down the path. He headed towards the driveway where cars were parked tight to each other.

The assholes. They'd painted a giant maple leaf in white silly string across the side of his car. He turned to the door and saw it open again, a bunch of shit-eating grins on their faces as they pointed his reactions out to each other, and someone hollered, “Show your pride!”

Cameron turned to them with a broad grin and gave them two middle fingers to another uproar of laughter. He collapsed into the driver's seat to drive himself back to the apartment. It was his final night there before he hit the road for New Brunswick.

He glanced in the rearview mirror at the guys clustered in the doorway. Matty was right there in the middle, holding up his beer bottle like a toast.

Cam swallowed hard and leaned on the horn to honk a few times before pulling out of the driveway for the quiet, late-night road.

What was he doing moving back home after one little setback like this?

He was regaining his blood family, but there were thirty guys in his hockey family he'd miss so hard. He'd probably cry like a bitch on the road tomorrow, or even tonight. If he did, he'd never tell a soul.

“If there's any room at all here, I could split the exhibit into two parts, and--”

Noah already knew what answer he was going to get, but he had to try.

“--I could put the commissioned pieces and local themes there, and put the rental series here...”

“It's ambitious, but it won't work,” Greg told him. His fellow curator was a bit of a hard-ass, but he was a realist as well. Noah needed that reality check right now.

The arena had come back and said it wanted to see the local commissioned pieces before it agreed to give him the full space. When he checked the contract, it had specified that they'd rent him “one half or more of the lobby space” with only a verbal agreement on it being the whole lobby.

“There's the Picasso in two weeks...”

“Oh, right,” Noah groaned. Greg had been in charge of that, and Noah didn't envy him. Anything world-famous came with insurance up the yin-yang and thousands of people who came just because it was famous. Greg's job was to try to convince visitors to come see the other exhibits, too.

“It feels a bit like... ghettoization,” Noah shook his head.

Greg blinked. “Hm?”

Sarah was quiet, but she watched him.

Noah bit his lip, not sure if he should share it. Greg and Sarah were fantastic to work with, but they couldn't change the museum layout. Didn't stop him wondering why the higher-ups had decided to accept a loan on the Picasso a month
after
his hockey exhibit was finalized.

They're just humoring the queer doing the exhibit about hot butch men.

Sarah reached out to squeeze Noah's arm. “You'll get a bit more say in things when you've been here long enough,” she promised. “They stopped stepping on my toes after the pottery thing went wrong last year, before you got here.”

“Oh?”

Sarah winced. “I'll tell you about it later,” she promised.

“Oh, it was bad,” Greg murmured.

Noah nodded. “Sorry. All right. I'll figure out how to make it work no matter what happens, I guess. They just
have
to like the local pieces. I gotta see Jackson and Chase soon...”

“I'd better get back out to the floor,” Greg told him. “My tour starts in ten minutes.”

“Right.” Noah waved him off, then rubbed his face. He still had stupid grant paperwork to fill out, too, but he was supposed to be circulating the second floor today.
Oh, God.
He hated the modern art exhibit, but it was Jaclyn's pet project and she was off today.

Suck it up
, he told himself. Nobody had to like all the art – they just had to know the history behind it. This was still a cushy job by comparison to many.

Noah's date yesterday was still on his mind, but he tried to ignore it. For some reason, knowing that Cam expected to go with him to the opening night made the pressure far worse. He wanted everything to be perfect.

***

The day was long, and he hadn't heard back from Cameron in hours. Noah expected that much, but it still made him sad not to have a comment or thought from Cam to tide him over. The unexpected text had been sweet, but since his response, radio silence.

The grad student exhibition was a big event. Noah tried to stay focused on socializing and helping the students feel comfortable presenting their work. Cam wasn't even due back in town for a couple days, so he had no excuses for distraction.

He almost bumped into someone who'd been standing behind him to admire a painting. “Oh, sorry...”

The words trailed off on his lips. It was Russell. The asshole who'd asked Noah out to the bar last weekend and no-showed on him. In a way, Noah was grateful because he'd arranged for his first date with Cam, but he was still pissed at Russell.

“Hey, Noah. I'm so glad I bumped into you.” Russell was dressed for work, his office swipe card dangling from his belt as he swished his wine glass in his hand.

He wasn't looking at Noah the way Cam did. His eyes were locked on Noah's instead, his hand on his hip in a standoffish way. “We should make up for the weekend. I ran late and you were gone by the time I got there, but I'm free this weekend.”

“Er, wait,” Noah shook his head. “Are you asking me out again?”

“Well, it's still the same date, just a different day,” Russell smiled.

No. Fuck you.

“You were at least forty minutes late, and you haven't been in touch since to apologize. I don't think you did just now, either.” Noah kept his voice soft and a pleasant smile on his face so they weren't overheard. “I assumed you weren't interested.”

“Oh, don't be so hard on yourself.”

Noah took a deep breath while counting to six, then let it hiss out through pursed lips, counting back down to zero. Then, he licked his lips and smiled again. “No, thank you.”

Russell looked confused and stopped swirling his wine. “No to what?”

“No to going out again.”

Then, that familiar ugly expression crossed Russell's face. He turned away, but not in time for Noah not to hear, “Bitter bitch,” under Russell's breath.

I'm at work. I. Am. At. Work.
That was all that stopped Noah from following Russell and demanding he repeat that a little louder.
Let it go.

If Cam were here, he'd have punched Russell.

True or not – Noah wasn't sure yet how Cam handled these situations – the thought made Noah smile. He wouldn't mind having a guy like Cam on his side... or on his arm.

By the time he was home in bed, Noah's energy was gone and he was praying that Friday was easier on him. He barely changed and washed up before crashing. Once he plugged his phone in to charge, he saw a text.

Packed up the house, great party with my friends, driving back tomorrow.

It was Cam.

Noah's heart sang. He unlocked his phone and locking the orientation while lying on his side to answer without sitting up.
Glad you had fun tonight. Are you in your place or a hotel?

Mine. They let me finish vacating by noon tmrw.

The 1st? Nice of them. All packed?

Everything but my mattress and tomorrows clothes.

Noah knew that feeling.
Wow. Empty place feelings?

Lol. Yeah.

Noah wondered how Cam was doing right now. Should he call? Nah... that might seem a bit stifling. They were only waiting for their third date. Instead, he texted,
Can't wait to see you but drive careful. Could be late ice.

Aww xx. Thank you. I will.

Noah smiled.
You're welcome.
His eyes were getting heavy.

How was work?

Long. Gotta get commission progress reports for the arena, long story. Also that asshole who stood me up showed up.

No way. Did you kick him out?

Noah chuckled.
I'm not allowed unless they're abusive. But I turned him down & he stormed out.

Good job. I'm going to sleep now.

Noah bit his lip, imagining what it would be like to snuggle up to Cam. Was he a furnace at night? He was a big, solid guy, so probably... He answered,
Sleep tight. Stay in touch tomorrow & text when you arrive.

Will do. Good night. Sleep well xo.

The habit of adding kisses and hugs to his text was the cutest thing Noah could imagine, but he didn't want to embarrass Cam. He just sent back,
Xoxo.

Sleep came fast, accompanied by the memory of Cameron's lips on his.