Page 15 of Playing it Safe

I was busy grinding on a hockey player at a nightclub and missed a notification that my sister had a headache. The message says the staff gave her some meds and that she went to bed early, probably just dehydrated, but that’s not the point.

I was unavailable when my sister needed me on a night they weren’t expecting me to go off-grid.

“What’s wrong?” Cameron’s voice is low beside me, his lips close to my ear.

“Oh.” I click my screen off and lean forward in the cab. “I’m going to need a different stop. It’s just a few blocks.” The driver nods when I tell him the new address.

Cameron’s face is tense in the darkness. “Briar, what is it?”

I glance at him. “I’m not heading straight home. I want to stop to check on my sister.” I glance at him. “I’ll walk home afterward.”

Cameron shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I’ll come along to your sister’s place.” He purses his lips, then adds, “If that’s okay.”

A warm, melty sensation spreads through my body, immediately followed by anxiety that I’m ruining his evening. He must be sore and exhausted. “I really don’t mind the walk. I do it all the time.”

I watch his hands curl into fists on his massive thighs. “You walk home alone in the dark?”

“Well.” I tap my knees. “Not usually in the dark.”

“Well,” he repeats. “It’s settled then.”

Deen’s porch light is on, as usual. From the outside, nothing seems amiss. Cameron takes in the quiet block, the tidy garden beds all dormant for winter. “This is nice.” He stands with his hands in his pockets, looking the place up and down. “She can stay here?”

I nod. “Yep. Mom and Dad joined the agency in fighting the zoning board about getting a group home in this neighborhood. But it was worth it.”

Cameron smiles and nods, leaning against the railing. “I’ll wait out here for you.” I really, really like how his accent changes sometimes, and I’m guessing it’s when he’s tired. Or agitated. He seems pretty calm as he tugs on his sleeves.

“You’re not coming inside?”

"I don't want to disrupt anyone's routine." He stretches his neck with a small groan. "Go check on her. I'm good."

I stare at him for a second. Then I go inside.

Jackie is on overnight. She looks up from her crossword puzzle at the kitchen table, her reading glasses on a beaded chain glistening against her brown skin. "Hey, Briar,” Jackie whispers, even though I can hear a white-noise machine in the hall, where the residents are all evidently asleep. “She's fine. Headache cleared up. She was asleep by ten."

"Did she eat dinner?"

"Chicken stir-fry. Had seconds." Jackie peers at me over her glasses. "You look nice."

"I was at a thing." I'm already heading toward the hallway. "I'm just going to peek."

Deen's door is cracked the way she likes it — just enough for the hallway nightlight to reach her bed. She's on her back, arms straight at her sides like Sleeping Beauty. She’s wearing a silk eye mask embroidered with cats.

Calm settles over me when I see her breathing slow and even. She's fine. She's always fine. I'm the one who can't stop checking.

I close the door to the exact same width and thank Jackie on my way out.

Cameron is right where I left him, enormous and patient on the steps, phone glowing in his hand. He doesn't notice me right away, and I take the opportunity to look at him from above.

He's in his nice pants and dress shirt — charcoal, beautifully cut, the kind of thing that doesn't come off a rack for a man his size. His sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms, and I can see the dark hair on his arms, the thick muscle, and the glint of a watch that probably cost more than my first car. At his collar, where he's unbuttoned two buttons, a white undershirt shows, and I can see the edges of ink creeping above the neckline. I've never seen his tattoos fully. I've definitely joined the rest of the fandom, scouring social media for a picture.

Cameron tilts the phone toward me as I stand beside him, and I see the glow of two yellow eyes in the dark room. Cat cam. His kitty stares into the lens like a tiny, furry ghost.

“He’s still keeping watch from the front window,” he says. “Probably making sure I don’t come back.”

“I’m sure that’s not it.”

Cameron laughs. “The rescue staff told me he chose me. I’ve never seen evidence of that.”