Taming the Legend (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sweaty and terrified about calling Hannah’s parents, Ash turned on his shower. Sweeping his tracksuit bottoms down to the floor, he went over all the things that could go wrong tonight. Basically…everything.

When steam began billowing out of the shower, he pushed the curtain aside only to freeze at a knock at the door. The girls had gone to the lodge for
dinner, and he wasn’t supposed to meet Camila for another half hour. He turned off the shower and quickly pulled his clothes back on, making it to the door just as someone knocked impatiently. He yanked it open.

“Hannah.” Oh shite. Panic hit him hard, and he wished Camila were with him. “What are you doing here?”

She stood on his porch with her hands clasped behind her back. “The others
nominated me to come and ask you something.”

“All right. Shoot.”

She glanced at the living room behind him, but he didn’t budge and didn’t invite her in. He’d read through the camp rules. No campers in staff cabins—a rule he understood and appreciated. Besides, if someone found out she’d been there and accused him of acting inappropriately, how could he respond? By saying,
It’s all right,
she’s my daughter?

Not bloody likely.

“Well, here’s the thing. Those videos you showed us were really exciting and all, but most of us aren’t used to doing all that running and dodging and being knocked to the ground. Okay, some of us are used to being knocked to the ground—”

“Who?” he demanded.

“It was a joke.”

“Not a funny one.” Probably more truth than joke, he suspected.
“If anyone hurts you, any of you—”

“That’s what we’re worried about. We’re might be playing against teams that have loads of experience. We could be torn to shreds.”

“We’ve got a week to get you in shape. Consider it hell week.”

She grimaced. “As great as that sounds, we were hoping for something else.”

“Like what?”

“We don’t want to be humiliated. And we don’t want to
break our necks. Not even our toes. We thought maybe you could give us homework so we could get better faster.”

He blinked. “Homework. You want rugby homework.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re seventeen and you’re asking for homework.” He had to be missing something here. Surely she had an ulterior motive.

“Yeah. Why?”

Fucking hell, she was serious. “Let me guess—you get perfect marks
at school and have ulcers.”

“No ulcers.”

“But yes to the perfect marks.”

She nodded reluctantly, as if she were ashamed.

“Stomachaches?”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“Every morning. How did you know?”

Because Camila had once told him she suffered the same. Now that he could imagine how stressful her childhood must have been, he understood why. He scrubbed a hand
over his face. “Did the others really put you up to this?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He fought a grin. “You need to learn how to lie better. Okay, tell me. What kind of homework do you want?”

“Things we can do when we’re in our cabin. Maybe let us take the balls overnight so we can practice passing or catching. Or memorizing a playbook. That sort of thing.”

“That’s a bloody good idea.”

“Cheeahs,” she said, butchering his accent so completely that it took a moment for him to realize she was thanking him. He bit back a smile.

“That was
rubbish.
Your homework tonight is to work on your accent. You can do it while you all practice passing the ball and running in formation. Tell me tomorrow the highest number of passes you made before dropping it.”

“Thanks, Coach.” She
turned and stepped off the porch before stopping and looking at him for a long, uncomfortable second. Dread built up in his belly.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just…it’s weird, but you look familiar.”

His heart nearly stopped. Was she baiting him? “I should hope so. You’ve seen me every day for three weeks.”

“No. It’s like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Oh shite.
“You might’ve
seen a photo of me somewhere. A story on the news or something.”

She snorted. “Rugby? On the news?”

And then she burst out laughing.

“Way to make me feel good, half pint. I’m actually quite famous in England, you know.”

“Aren’t there only, like, twenty people in England?”

“Go eat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She waved and walked away, leaving him shaking his head in relief
and bafflement. His daughter, not just an overachiever but an overachiever at
school.
His mum would shit a brick.

Mentally calculating the time difference, he pushed aside his sudden need to talk to his mum. It would be the middle of the night there, and he didn’t know how he could talk to her and still manage to say nothing. She would somehow wheedle out of him that he not only had a daughter
but that daughter had a mother he was finding it increasingly difficult to picture walking away from.

He dug his thumb and pointer finger into the corners of his eyes. His head began to throb. He had a week to take the Bad News Legends and develop them into a team capable of saving this camp. He wanted so badly to make Camila’s dream come true.

But if he did, she would want to stay here,
not come back to London with him so he could coach Legends and help his mum out.

Camila or career. Yet again, it appeared he couldn’t have both.

* * *

Camila left her living room window open, just in case Ash got the urge to climb through it instead of using the door. After the shock of the past day, she really couldn’t give a shit if someone spotted him and started spreading rumors
about her sex life. Frankly, she had bigger secrets to worry about now.

Unsurprisingly, he knocked at the door. When she pulled it open, he stood there with a little smile.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hannah just dropped by. She asked me for homework.” His grin grew. “She might look like me, but I swear she’s you.”

Shock hit her hard, followed swiftly by a hope chaser. “She is?”

“Yeah. Totally. She’s brilliant, Mila.”

“Thank you.” Camila’s eyes stung, her sight going all blurry so she didn’t see it when Ash stepped into the cabin and pulled her into his embrace. She burrowed closer. “Thank you for telling me. I—I needed to hear that.”

And she’d needed his hug. He held her for a long time while she regained control of herself. Letting out a deep breath, she
pulled back and looked up at him. “Let’s get this over with.”

She led him to the table, where her cell phone lay, and they sat across from each other. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said.

She dialed the number she’d looked up earlier and put the phone on speaker. The phone rang three times before Mary Revell picked it up. When she did, she was breathless, as if she’d run to catch it before
it went to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Hello, is that Mrs. Revell?”

“Speaking.”

Her voice sounded a little throaty, as if she were a smoker and was on her way to developing a Lauren Bacall sexiness. Or lung cancer.

“I’m really sorry to disturb you, especially at this hour, but this is Camila Morales from Lake Sunshine Camp. First of all, Hannah is absolutely fine. Healthy, happy and
not in any trouble.”

She’d had to call parents before—for far different reasons—and the reaction was usually a variation on a single theme:
What did that little shit do this time?
But Mrs. Revell went silent, and tension snapped over the line. She gave Camila no indication of her thoughts, leaving her dangling for words.

“I’m here with my colleague Ash, and we’ve got you on speaker phone.
Is that all right?”

“Yes, that’s okay.”

Camila swallowed hard, and Ash reached across the table to take her hand. “This…this will sound like a strange question, but…is Hannah adopted?”

She squeezed her eyes closed and waited to be hung up on. Or yelled at. Or told that no, Hannah was most certainly not adopted, and what a crazy thing to call about.

She prepared herself for
anything, except the answer she got, a softly spoken: “Yes, Camila. My ex-husband and I adopted Hannah at birth. Her birth mother was named Camila Morales.”

Camila’s eyes snapped open, all the thoughts draining from her head. She stared aghast at Ash, whose eyes had gone glassy. He squeezed her hand so tightly she thought her knuckles would shatter.

“How do you know that?” she whispered.

The woman’s voice grew huskier. “The day we met the social worker at the hospital, a teenage boy bumped into us as we were leaving with Hannah. He took one look at our baby and tears filled his eyes. Then he looked at us and said, ‘Her mother’s name is Camila Morales. Please remember, in case she ever wants to know.’ And I’ve never forgotten. How could I? I’d wanted so badly to meet you, but
Tony—my ex—had insisted on a closed adoption. He was so angry I thought he’d hit that poor boy. He yelled, ‘No, her mother’s name is Mary Revell’ and then bundled us into the car. I assume that boy was Hannah’s birth father.”

“No.” Camila tried to clear the lump in her throat. “Um, no. That would’ve been my brother. Gabriel. I actually… Ash is her birth father.” Her voice trembling, she said,
“Ash Trenton, who’s right here.”

“Ash…as in Ashley?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’d wondered why the birth mother requested we give Hannah that as her middle name. I figured it might be Camila’s mother’s name.”

“No, ma’am, it’s mine.”

Camila had never heard Ash sound so respectful or humble.

“Well, Ash, you don’t sound like you’re local.”

“No, I’m from London.”

“You’re
kidding! I had no idea. Did you know that English is Hannah’s favorite subject at school?”

Ash’s lips quirked. “She definitely didn’t inherit that from me.”

“Not a fan of Shakespeare, huh?”

“No, but I did see
Romeo & Juliet
at the Globe Theater once. Well, half of it anyway. I left at intermission.”

“I don’t really understand it either. But Hannah loves it.”

“She seems
very clever.”

“Oh, she is. Sometimes I think she’d be happier if she weren’t. She doesn’t really fit in with most kids her age.” She paused. “How’s she doing? Is she getting along with the others?”

“Yeah, she’s doing great. She picks things up so quickly. I don’t know if she told you that she’s our team captain.”

Mary’s voice carried her smile. “She did. She didn’t tell me she was
proud of that, but I could tell she was. Thank you for that. I don’t think she’s ever been put in charge of anything. She usually makes it obvious how much she hates group activities.”

Nerves ran through Camila as she jumped in. “Mrs. Revell—”

“Please, call me Mary.”

“Okay. Mary, why did you send her here? Of all camps, why this one?”

Mary hesitated. “Tony and I got a divorce
three years ago, and it’s been a rough few years for all of us—Hannah most of all. I’ve been so worried about her, feeling like something was missing from her life. And I wondered if that something was you. I searched for you several years ago and found out about your camp. I never said anything to Tony. By then, things were bad between us, and I held this information back because he’d be furious
if he found out. And, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do anything about it. But recently Hannah’s seemed angrier and angrier, and I felt like I needed to do something.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Give me some warning?”

“I didn’t want you to say no. Hannah doesn’t know her birth mom’s name. I figured she probably wouldn’t recognize you but might feel some sort of kinship with you.
And if you figured out who she was, then I thought I could leave it up to you whether to say anything.”

Camila felt sick. “That’s placing a huge trust in me to do the right thing.”

“Like I said, I’ve read all about your camp. I know the kind of work you do. If you had a career that had nothing at all to do with kids, I would’ve waited till Hannah was twenty-one to find out through the
proper channels if you were open to meeting her. But everything clicked into place and…and I was desperate for anything that might help her.”

“What if I never recognized her?”

“I figured I’d let God or fate or the universe or whoever decide that.”

Camila laid her head back against the chair. “As thrilled as I am to meet her and relieved you wanted me to, I have no earthly clue what
to do.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“Of course not.”

“Camila, I think you need to do whatever feels right. I trust that you’ll have her best interests in mind.”

If only Camila had the same confidence that she would find the best way for Hannah.

They said goodbye and Camila ended the call. She shook her head in confusion and looked to Ash for help. “How are we going to tell
her?”

“I don’t—” His gaze strayed out the open window, and his face paled. “Fuck.”

Camila turned and saw Hannah and the rest of the team standing outside her window with their arms full of toilet paper rolls and their faces full of shock.

Then Hannah dropped the TP and bolted.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ash scrambled over the table and launched himself out the window, barely missing Tori and Jen. Hannah ran through the line of trees surrounding the cabin, and he sprinted after her. “Hannah! Hannah!”

She lost her footing once, and Ash sucked in a breath as images of her falling down the bluff to the lakeshore filled his head. But she quickly regained her
footing and put into practice all the dodging skills he’d taught her. He would almost be proud if he had any room inside for more emotions.

“Hannah!” Camila’s panicked voice rang out from somewhere behind them.

“Fuck you!”

Hannah seemed to be heading for the dock. What she planned to do when she got there was anyone’s guess. Row to the other side? Make her getaway on a paddle boat?
She ran around several trees, as if she were trying to lose him because she knew she couldn’t outrun him. Apparently she couldn’t outsmart him either because he took the most direct route instead of weaving around the same trees she did and ended up cutting her off at the edge of the lake. “Hannah, stop.”

She did and glared at him furiously. Her chest heaved, and she didn’t seem to know what
to do with her hands. She put them on her hips, then threw them into the air and shouted at the sky. “Fuuuuuck!”

He let her try to get it all out, all the frustration and confusion and anguish that had to be filling her. But then she marched past him and grabbed an oar out of a boat. “What are you doing with that?”

She ignored him as she walked past him again and smashed the oar against
the bluff until it splintered. “Fuck fuck fuck!”

Camila finally caught up with them, and he guided her to stand behind him. He’d never seen Hannah lose control, and he didn’t want her to turn her anger on Camila. Not if she turned violent like this.

Something inside Hannah finally seemed to snap. She turned her back on them. Her shoulders hunched and shook, and she bent over herself
as she gave herself a hug.

Camila’s fingers brushed over his lower back as she stepped around him. “Hannah?”

The girl’s hand flew in the air, stopping Camila.

“Take your time. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

That brought Hannah spinning around to stare at them incredulously. “Take my
time?
You took yours, didn’t you? How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday afternoon,
but I wasn’t sure till I talked to your mom.”

“You should’ve talked to
me
first. This is about
me,
not her.”

“I—” Camila didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so Ash stepped in.

“You’re right, it
is
about you. But it’s about us too, and about your parents. We had to let them know.”

Hannah blinked at him. “What do you mean, about us? What are you talking about?”

Dread skated along his shoulders. “How much of the conversation did you hear?”

“Enough.” She glared at Camila.

“How much?” he demanded, growing more and more worried this conversation was about to get a million times worse.

“We got there when my mom was saying I don’t know my birth mom’s name so it was okay to trick me into coming to this camp.”

Oh shite. She’d only caught the
very end of the conversation. Camila stiffened beside him and shot him a horrified glance.

“Right.”
Steady. Steady. Focus and concentrate.
He took a deep breath. “Hannah, I’m your father.”

The color leached from her face. She shook her head slowly.

He took Camila’s hand, needing the comfort of her touch so badly when he faced the scariest possibility of his life—being rejected by
his daughter.

“It’s true,” Camila said.

Hannah’s gaze ping-ponged between them. “You’re my birth parents.”

“Yes.”

“We never meant to hurt you,” Camila whispered. “It’s the last thing on earth we ever,
ever
meant to do. But we’re floundering here. We didn’t expect this any more than you did. And I think I can speak for both of us when I say that it’s the best moment of our lives.
And the scariest. I won’t pretend to know how you’re feeling, and I’m sure it’ll take a lot of time to process what just happened. I know it will for me. But I want you to know I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve dreamed of this day for seventeen years. I never pictured it happening like this, but I’m beside myself with joy that it happened at all.”

Ash stood still and silent as Camila expressed
everything he felt better than the words he could’ve come up with. Hannah rubbed her finger across her chin, and Ash nearly told her that Camila did the same when she thought deeply about something. But he kept quiet because for once in his life he had no idea what the right thing to say was.

Finally Hannah turned to them with a somber gaze. “I want to talk to my mom.”

Thinking she meant
Camila, Ash was awash with relief. But then Camila moved away from him and said, “Come back to my cabin. You can call her on my phone.”

Right. Hannah had meant the mom who raised her, not the one who was carefully trying to hide how she was breaking apart right now. Ash watched with a great big hole in his heart as Camila held her arm out to Hannah, who pretended not to see it and walked
away to the path toward Camila’s cabin.

Ash felt sick. He closed the distance between them in a few steps and drew Camila into his arms. “She’ll come around.”

Camila nodded against his chest, but he felt the wetness of her tears as she rubbed her cheeks against his shirt.

“She will. And she’ll love the hell out of you.”

She cuddled closer and shook her head.

“I—”
Jesus,
don’t say it.
But he couldn’t hold it back. “I can’t imagine anyone not loving you, Mila.”

She tipped her head back, and the desolation in her eyes nearly drove him to his knees.

“I love you too, Ash.”

He was doomed.

* * *

Camila sat in a rocking chair on her porch with Ash while Hannah talked to her mom on the phone inside. She’d wanted to give them their privacy, but
there were moments when Hannah’s voice carried. She shouted for several minutes, cursing and yelling, “How could you? You
lied
to me!”

Ash was growing twitchy, clearly upset at the way Hannah spoke to her mom. But then everything grew quiet inside, and they both stilled, waiting for Hannah to make her next move.

The door opened and a sullen Hannah walked out, hands in her pockets and
shoulders hunched. Camila and Ash stood quickly and stared at her in silence.

“My mom’s coming to pick me up. I’ll go pack my things.”

The quiet words stole Camila’s last hope of a hug and a relationship with her daughter. She understood—the shock had to be terrible, especially when it came as a result of manipulation—but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Ash reached his hand out.
“Hannah, don’t go. Stay. Please. Let’s talk about this.”

“I don’t think so,
Coach.
” Her voice dripped with disgust, but her lips trembled just enough to betray her vulnerability.

Icy coldness washed through Camila, leaving her blessedly numb. Her daughter, back in her life for such a short time, refused to stick around any longer.

Her daughter’s father, also back in her life for
such a short time, would also leave her soon.

It was too much. She couldn’t bear it, and she couldn’t fight it. All she could do was give in and soak up every second she could with each of them before she grieved their departures. “I’ll walk you to your cabin,” she told Hannah.

Hannah opened her mouth to argue, but Camila held up her hand to silence her. “Camp rules. No one walks alone
after dark. You know that. Come on.”

She stepped down the porch’s steps and started walking down the path until she heard footsteps behind her. She slowed her pace, and soon Hannah walked alongside her. They stayed silent for several minutes, but words ate at Camila’s throat, desperate to get out. This could be the only time she got to say them, and she wasn’t going to hold herself back.

“Hannah, you don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to respond. All I’m asking is that you listen.” She swallowed hard, but the words were still there, still forming a painful lump that made it difficult to breathe. Her voice was choked and shaky, but she forced it out. “The first time I felt you moving in my tummy, I was sitting in my history class at a really crappy school in L.A.
I couldn’t believe you were real. I was amazed and terrified at the same time. You got stronger and stronger, bigger and bigger. I used to wrap my arms around my big belly to hug you. I used to put headphones on my belly and play classical music for you because I’d read it would make you more sensitive and intelligent. I used to see a bump moving, and I thought it was your head so I would stroke
it. I knew it might be the closest I ever got to touching you.”

Her eyes stung, but she fought for composure. “The day I finally decided you would be better off with another family was the worst day of my life—and believe me, there are a lot of days vying for that title. It’s your choice to leave here, but if you do I want you to know one thing. I loved you. I loved you so much, and that’s
why I gave you away. I thought you deserved so much better than me. And I’m sorry my opinion of myself was so disgustingly low that it ended up hurting you. But I loved you, and you were the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. Still are. And if you’re ever ready to talk to me, you will always be welcome in my life. Always.”

They reached the girls’ cabin, and several curious faces peeked
around the curtains before the group leaders convinced them to get away from the windows. Hannah stood silently for several long moments, and every moment gave Camila hope that this wasn’t over. That Hannah would break down and they would cry in each other’s arms. That they would break down together before healing together.

Hannah turned away, walked up the stairs and closed the door quietly
behind her.

Camila broke down on her own. She wrapped her arms around herself, bent over and covered her mouth as she sobbed.

Hands settled on her shoulders, and she jerked in shock before recognizing his presence. Strong arms pulled her against a solid chest, and she leaned into Ash’s hug as if it were the only thing that might save her from drowning in her grief. He rocked her and
whispered to her. And when she felt the hitch in his breathing, she realized she wasn’t breaking down on her own after all.

She dragged in a shaky breath. “I didn’t know you followed us.”

“No one walks alone, Mila. Especially not you. Especially not tonight.” He put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward her cabin, and she realized her heartbreak was only half over.