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I looked at him then. Really looked.

“Sometimes I don’t know how to do that,” I admitted. “When I talk to the doctor… I’m still seeing him, you know, this morning was session five, I mean, who else needs that much talk, and even then, I can’t make any sense of how I feel.”

Cam met my gaze. “You don’t have to know. You have to keep working on it.”

The quiet between us shifted, punctuated by the distant hiss of the coffee machine down the hall and the muffled sound of voices drifting through a half-open door, and I became acutely aware of how close he was, of the warmth at my side and the way my body reacted before my head could catch up. Everything inside me felt overstimulated and unsteady—relief tangled with gratitude, trust blurring into something sharper—and the ease of stepping forward hit at the same time as the fear of what it would mean.

“Cam,” I said, voice barely holding.

He didn’t move. “Yeah?”

I swallowed. “If I want to kiss you, is that okay? This isn’t about panicking, or needing…” I faltered, the words tangling in my mouth. “I just need to—I want to kiss you. But no one can see, or know, and I need you to tell me if it’s not okay.”

The thought alone made my pulse spike. Kissing him here—where anyone could walk past, where a phone could come out, where a moment could turn into something with consequences—was reckless. Public places weren’t safe. Nothing was ever just between two people. Someone always watched. Someone always talked. And if it got back to my father… if it became another thing he could use…

This was too dangerous. I knew that. I should have stepped back.

I want to kiss Cam so badly.

Instead, I took a half step closer. One kiss. That was all I wanted. Something small. Contained. Proof that this pull didn’t own me.

I reached for his sleeve and tugged him deeper into the shadows, my hand shaking despite my grip.

His answer was immediate. “It’s more than okay.”

The kiss was nothing like the movies. No rush. No crash. Just contact. Soft. Careful. His hand hovered at my waist until I nodded, then it settled there as if it belonged. I kissed him back slowly, learning the shape of his mouth, the way he breathed out when I leaned in. It was the best kiss I'd ever had, and the first time I’d wanted more.

When we broke apart, my forehead rested briefly against his shoulder, the solid warmth of him steadying me. He laced his fingers through mine and squeezed—not tight, just enough to remind me that this was real, and instead of wanting to pull away, I wanted to stay right here.

“Hey,” he murmured. “I’m heading to Greece in two days for a month, with Yanni, we do it every year.”

“Okay,” I said, surprising myself with how steady I sounded despite him telling me I wouldn’t see him for so long.

“I don’t want this to feel like a disappearing act,” he added. “Can we text? Is that okay? Call. Whatever pace you want. I'd like that. More kisses when I come back, maybe we can go on a date. I don't know if you're out, but…”

“Not completely, people know, but I've always dated women, and…” I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “I'd like a date if you don't mind spending time with this messed-up hockey player who has issues.”

A corner of his mouth tipped up. “I like this hockey player.”

When we went back inside together, the room felt lighter—someone was laughing about auction items getting out of hand, Layton was already jotting notes, and whatever tension had been there earlier had eased. Tennant caught my eye again.

This time, I didn’t look away.