Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

"Everything's fine," Cam repeated as he looked back at Brad, "isn't it, Jameson?"
    "Oh yeah, bygones tonight and all that," Brad stated magnanimously. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to you prematurely, y'know? We need you in ship shape and prime condition for that ass whupping we're gonna hand you guys this weekend." Archie snickered, and Brad winked and grinned in Cam's direction.
    Cam frowned at Brad and began to reply, but then appeared to shake himself. In the end, he simply said with a nod, "Till Sunday." As he turned away with Seth, though, he muttered, "Idiots."
    Brad's nostrils flared at the insult, but when Archie started towards the departing pair, Brad held him back. "Hey, man, let's just get back to Fontana. No need to break up his party to start something with the Boy Scout."
    Archie relaxed a little. "Yeah, we can just take it out on their asses this weekend."
    Brad looked up to watch the two men rejoin their party, his eyes lingering on the tall, broad shoulders of the dirty blond bane of his existence. "Oh yeah, he won't know what hit him."
    ****
    "Oomph!"
    The hit to his left side took Brad by surprise, and he could only grunt and try his damnedest to secure the ball as he took the inevitable fall and loss of yards. The 320-pound defensive tackle hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He could vaguely hear the crazed roar of the Philadelphia stadium's capacity crowd and muffled a groan as he took the hand that appeared to help him up.
    Fuck.
    The air had been crisp all day at the stadium just outside Philadelphia, and both teams had been out for blood ever since they'd taken the field. As everyone had expected, the outcome was coming down to the wire; the lead had changed eight times over the course of the game. With just over two minutes left to play in the fourth quarter, the score was 27-24, and Brad's Diamonds were barely hanging on to a three point lead.
    With this sack, though, their field position was fucked, and they were now going on fourth and long. Coach Fletcher had no choice but to punt the ball and pray to everyone and his mother that Cam Hunter didn't pull off another late-in-the-game miracle that the screaming Philadelphia Railers fans clearly expected.
    "Fuck!"
    Brad slammed his helmet into the bench as he grabbed a towel.
    Then he could only stand by and watch with a kind of horror mixed with reluctant fascination. Because, yes, to the exuberant cheers of a crowd of 57,000, the big blond beast wearing number twelve trotted onto the field and led his team through a lightning series of plays. In the end, the last play wound up bringing another impossible victory for the Railers as the extraordinary Cam Hunter connected for a touchdown while the clock once again ticked down to zero.
    ****
    The locker room was silent.
    After a brutal session with the press, Brad had zoned out and gone on autopilot. Everyone had left him alone, thank god. At some point, the rest of the team must have filtered out because he was now alone in the visitors' locker room. Like a handful of other guys, he'd decided to drive himself down from New York to the stadium, so at least now he could head back into the city on his own time, wallowing in his own company.
    He slung his duffel over his shoulder and headed for the door. Fucking A, that'd been a painful loss. Now they were in the precarious position of being 8-3 with only five games left in the season. If they weren't careful, he'd find himself on his ass at home, watching from his couch while Cam Hunter made the playoffs. Brad growled at the thought.
    As he made his way down the hall, he was calculating the potential post-season scenarios in his head when he heard a muffled shout coming from behind the Railers' locker room door.
    "WHAT?? No! No no, when?? What, how? No no no, okay. Okay, I'll be there. I'll be there. Please, God, let him be okay."
    Brad hesitated a second before nudging open the heavy swinging door out of curiosity. Peering inside, he found that the source of the desperate words was Cam Hunter. Cam hung up his cell phone before dropping onto the bench, his palm to his forehead, and his head shaking in denial. His face was a picture of despair, and Brad felt a hitch of compassion flare in his chest.
    Ah, hell, he couldn't leave the guy like this, could he?
    Brad eased his way through the door and cleared his throat. Cam's head shot up, only to have his reddened eyes widen slightly at the sight of Brad's tall form. Cam's short blond hair was