Maybe some of what she said is true. Maybe he thinks that too.
“What are you doing here, Cam?”
“I’d ask you the same thing but I’m not sure I want the answer.”
He blows out a breath like the fate of the entire world lies in it. “You know I don’t want you here. Not at night and not alone.”
I don’t respond.
“Oh, stop it,” he sighs.
“Stop it? Really? You’re going to say that to me when I walk in here and see that? Her touching you and cooing like a baby? It’s . . .” I force a smile. “It’s beyond frustrating.”
“I needed help with the bandage,” he sighs. “She was the only person here.”
“Conveniently.”
“Whatever, Cam. I’m banged up here. Forgive me for taking care of myself. Isn’t it you that’s always preaching that?”
“Yes,” I gulp.
My insecurities flare and I know it’s an ugly reaction. It’s one I’m not used to, poise and confidence coming fairly easy to me. But now neither are really present.
“Let’s say you walked in to Mallory’s yoga studio one night,” I say, my voice starting to shake, “and I’m there, alone, with Barron Monroe.”
“Who the fuck is he?”
“Just a guy I’ve known my whole life,” I shrug.
His jaw pulses as he envisions this situation.
“Let’s say Barron is helping me with a pulled muscle. It’s just some muscle rub on the back of my thigh—where I can’t reach. No big deal.” I let that sink in. “How’s that working for you?”
“I’d break every bone in his fucking body,” he seethes.
“Oh, but Dom,” I say innocently. “I couldn’t reach.”
His eyes narrow as his chest rises and falls.
“That is the equivalent of what I just walked into only I didn’t throw in how I didn’t want you there—right or wrong,” I add as he starts to object. “It’s about how it makes me feel, Dominic.”
His head drops forward. “I just feel sorry for Hannah. She’s not a lot different than me, really.”
“I beg to differ.”
“But you don’t know her. Not that I think you could be friends because I don’t,” he grins. “But I can’t just be hateful to her, Cam. I don’t have it in me. But that doesn’t mean I want her or think of her in any way other than a girl that really has nothing to go on.”
His face falls, his jaw loosening up, and he sits back down on the mat. “I saw you on television. I thought you looked beautiful. But I see you now and realize . . . you’re even prettier in person.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. Well, maybe I am,” he mutters. “Nothing happened with Hannah, Cam. Nothing will ever, ever happen with her. She legit helped me fasten this thing around my waist because I might’ve cracked a rib tonight. I don’t know. It just hurts.”
“You can’t fight with a cracked rib.”
“I’ve fought with cracked ribs before.”
“If it splits and punctures one of your organs, you could die.”