Page 82 of Playing it Safe

"Cameron?"

"Yeah."

“Please stay."

His arm tightens. "I'm not going anywhere."

“I mean … not just now. I want to see the double sink and the hooks and all that. With you.”

“Good,” he says, and holds me closer.

Puck purrs. The house settles around us — the radiator's creak, the fridge's hum. I press my face into Cameron’s chest and breathe him in, letting the rest of the world fall away.

Chapter 33

Cameron

Puck taps my face from his post between Briar’s and my heads. He thinks he’s getting away with waking me up early, but I’m already awake, staring at my beautiful girl.

It’s been a week of this, falling asleep in her arms, planning a future together, just being still and quiet. Her friends and mine have all left for off-season shenanigans, and I took Odin’s suggestion to snooze my family’s numbers, so I only check in with them once a day instead of multiple times an hour.

I’m guessing this is what content feels like. It’s nice.

Puck draws his claws for the next face tap, so I gather him to my chest and carry him downstairs. He endures the indignity because he knows it ends in kibble. I pour his food, start the coffee, and stand at the counter in the gray morning light of Briar's kitchen.

My kitchen. Our kitchen? We haven't formalized anything, but this place is too small for all three of us. I think today’s a good day to officially show her the house I’d love us to share. The coffee drips as I pet my cat and work through the plan.

I had a lot of meetings this week. Not just with Coach and Odin, but also with Ty Stag about the arena project, with his brother’s law firm about some paperwork, and with my contractor about the progress on my house. It’s amazing how quickly he finished once I offered him a five-figure rush fee.

Everything is ready. I just need to get Briar out to see it. So I’m going to offer her bagels, a walk in Riverview Park, and a huge detour to hopefully reroute her life into mine. I pour her a mug of coffee, add a splash of fresh cream, and even give some to Puck, hoping he’ll leave us alone while I try to be a hero.

She's awake when I push open the door. Propped on one elbow, hair a mess, pillow creased against her cheek. She squints at me. "What's that?"

“Coffee.”

"In bed?"

"That's where you are."

She narrows her eyes. "You're pathologically nice." She takes the coffee, sips it, and watches me over the rim. "What are you up to, Miller?"

"I'm taking you out. It's a nice morning."

"It's June in Pittsburgh. I bet the air feels like marinara.”

“We can get meatballs after.” I sit on the edge of the bed and steal a kiss. "Get dressed."

She studies me for another three seconds, decides she can't crack me, and heads into the bathroom.

There’s no line at Yinz Coffee, so we pick up a bunch of bagels and more Joe. I weave my way across the highway toward my neighborhood. “What’s this, about five minutes from DD’s house?” I ask nervously, trying to sound like I haven’t tested the route at various times of day in multiple traffic scenarios over the past week.

Briar nods. “Just about.”

I park on the street in front of my house, knowing Briar has never been here and doesn’t know the park entrance is right across from my lamp post. She smiles in the sunshine, holding my hand as we pick our way along a trail that starts near the high school. The path winds through old-growth trees, and the air smells of cut grass and earth. Briar walks beside me, and we don’t talk much.

This is something I've learned about us over the past week: we're good at silence. We aren’t avoiding anything, but we both think our own thoughts and occasionally point at a weird bird or a dog.

"Can I show you something?" I ask as we round the loop and approach my yard.