Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

okay," Cam interrupted before Brad could explain. "But if you're ever interested in doing it, give me a call. You might find something worthwhile," Cam said, pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket and scribbling his number. "I mean, you gotta take a break from the high life sometimes, right?" he asked, his lips quirking up. Brad pocketed the slip of paper as they approached a massive and ugly-as-sin brown Ford Bronco from the 1970s. Cam suddenly sobered. "Look, I gotta get out of here and see Lock." A painful look flashed across his face, and he ran his hand through his hair. "Just… pray that he's fine."
    "Hey, Hunter," Brad felt compelled to ask, "you gonna be alright getting there? You know where you're going and everything, right?"
    Cam turned back from unlocking the door to his truck. "Thanks, Jameson, I'll be okay. You're the one who's the tourist in these here parts, you know?" he added with an easy smile. "I just… I just hope he's okay," he added, his smile slipping from his face.
    "He will be. Just hang in there and go see him."
    "I will." Cam stepped into the cab of the truck and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life, and Cam made eye contact with him through the driver's side window. With a nod of his head and a two-fingered wave, Cam backed out of the space and headed off.
    Brad watched the tail lights disappear as he slowly walked towards his black Range Rover.
    That had been… interesting.
    Almost like they maybe didn't hate each other.
    ****
    "Yeah, Nick, so I'll see you tomorrow at the gym?" Brad paused and reached into the fridge for a Sam Adams. "Sounds good, looking forward to it, buddy." Closing the fridge door, Brad hung up and slipped his cell phone into his pocket. He popped the cap on his beer and took a deep, satisfying drink.
    He and Nick Carpenter had been paired up two years ago at an NFL fund-raising event for local schools, and although the event was long over, Brad and Nick still kept in touch and met up to toss the ball around and talk about life. It was an odd pairing, but it worked. Nick was in his first year of high school, and Brad had come to realize that he liked being there for Nick. It made him feel good on some strange, inner peace, karma New Age-y level. Jesus, if the guys heard him say that, they'd think he was crazy and would ask him where his yoga mat was. Eh, fuck 'em. The weird thing? This relationship he had with Nick was the longest and most enduring one he'd kept going since coming to New York. It was something he did for himself and Nick– and he liked that it was their secret.
    Without warning, his thoughts strayed to the unexpected conversation he'd had with Cam Hunter last night. The man had been both upset and surprisingly eloquent in his distress. Thing is, Brad could fully empathize with how he felt. Not knowing what the hell had happened was the absolute fucking worst.
    Brad couldn't help wondering how the kid and Hunter were doing. Huh.
    Setting his beer down, he pulled out his cell phone again and looked at the scrap of paper that he'd taken out of his pocket last night and left on the marble counter of his kitchen's center island. He didn't know why he'd kept it, but he had. And he'd found his eyes unwittingly straying towards it throughout the evening ever since he'd come home from practice.
    He picked it up and fingered the crumpled piece of paper thoughtfully. He could always just see how the kid was. It would be the human thing to do. Yeah, and, really, he'd have to ask Hunter how he was holding up, too. He was only being civil, right?
    Checking the slip of paper, he dialed the number.
    "Hello, Cam Hunter." The smooth Southern drawl blanketed him in warmth.
    Brad cleared his throat. "Ahem. Ah, yeah, Hunter, it's me, Brad Jameson."
    A pause.
    And more silence.
    "Uh, hello? You there?" Brad began to have second, third, and tenth thoughts about dialing that number. Jesus Christ, this was a fucking bad idea. Idiot .
    "Yeah, ah, yeah," Cam said quickly, clearing his throat. "I'm here."
    "Hey, I uh, I just wanted to see how you were doing. And the kid. How the kid was doing, too," Brad said awkwardly as he made his way into the living room to settle onto his leather recliner. Yeah, real smooth, Jameson.
    "Oh, well, that's real kind of you, Jameson," Cam said, his tone noticeably more welcoming. "Lock is out of the woods. He was awake by the time I got to the hospital last night, so things are looking good."
    "And… how are you doing?"