“Camden,” Tanner’s voice bellows from the archway of the hall, jolting me out of my rage. His hair is a mess and his beard is misshapen, but his eyes have that look that tells me he’s not in a joking mood. “What’s going on with you?” “Nothing. I’m just sick of talking about fucking football. It’s all we ever do!” I turn on my heel, determined to get the hell out of here before I completely break down like the emotional sap I am. Tanner steps in front of my path to the hallway and places both hands on my shoulders, gripping them firmly. But it’s not to stop me. It’s not to scold me. It’s to
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