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I must not have been successful at hiding the jealousy that flared within me because Cam paused and said, “You sure you want to hear this?”
“No,” I admitted. Cam grinned, then reached out to stroke his fingers down my cheek like he was pleased with my honesty.
“He doesn’t hold a candle to you, Ford,” he murmured. I got lost in his eyes and I knew it would be another memory that I would eagerly seek out in the future.
Along with the warm, mushy feelings that went through me.
“Ok, go on,” I said. “Quickly,” I added.
Cam chuckled. “Long story short, we started a relationship. But it wasn’t really a relationship. It was a series of one-night stands that I thought were leading somewhere but weren’t. He said all the things I wanted to hear about coming out of the closet, but there was always some reason he couldn’t. First it was his divorce and not wanting to hurt his ex, then when his wife unexpectedly passed away, he needed to focus on his kids. I understood that and stayed with him and we kept up the act that we were just friends. People saw it as one buddy helping another buddy out.”
“No one knew?” I asked.
Cam shook his head. “No, we were good at hiding it. I wanted to protect him and help him get through everything so I stopped pushing him to come out. About a year after his wife died, I started bringing it up again. I wanted to build a life with him. I wanted to be a father to his kids. I wanted it all.”
“But he didn’t?”
“He said he did,” Cam said. “But then the excuses started up again. He was dealing with his former in-laws who he said were trying to prove he wasn’t fit so they could get custody of his kids. And he said the firm he worked at would fire him if they found out he was gay and then he’d lose the kids… it just went on and on. I finally realized he was content with how things were.”
“So you left him?”
Cam sighed and looked at me. “Yes,” he said. “But not because of that. I think I was at a point in my life where I didn’t think I could find that happily ever after I’d been dreaming of. So I just kind of accepted that I’d get half of it.”
“Why did you leave?”
I saw him hesitate and I knew why. I hadn’t earned the right to hear his secrets. I was disappointed, but I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself. “It’s okay, Cam, you don’t have to tell me.”
I started to pull away from him, but he grabbed my arm and held me in place. “Is Jimmy the one who hurts you, Ford?”
I stilled at that. I knew that he already knew it was Jimmy. He wasn’t asking me so he could confirm his suspicions. It was his way of showing trust by asking for some of it in return. I didn’t hesitate more than a beat before I simply nodded. I waited for him to ask me the inevitable questions like why I let Jimmy lay his hands on me and when had it started and all that, but Cam surprised me when he said, “My dad used to beat me when I was a kid.”
I felt my throat close up.
Never in a million years would I have guessed that about him. “Cam—”
“I’m not telling you so that I can say that I know how you feel. I don’t know what it’s like to walk in your shoes, Ford. I won’t ever know that. I’ll only know what you explain to me, and if and when you want to do that, I’m here to listen. I’m telling you about my dad because it has to do with what happened with Carter.”
“Okay,” I said.
Cam nodded. “I never told anyone what my father was doing when I was little. He was never held accountable. But that’s why I became a cop. I wanted to help kids like me who didn’t have anyone in their corner. In addition to my work, I also did some volunteering at some schools and outreach centers in my community. Mentoring, tutoring, sometimes just listening… last spring I met a kid at the outreach center. He was fifteen. A really good kid. Sharp, kind, big heart. He was having trouble in school, though, so his parents signed him up for some after-school tutoring. I’d help him with his homework and stuff, play basketball with him, that sort of thing. I recognized a lot of myself in him.”
“What was his name?” I asked. “The kid’s.”
“Riley.”
“Riley,” I murmured.
“It took a while but Riley eventually admitted to me that he was gay and that he was terrified of what his father would do to him when he found out. I tried getting Riley to meet with one of the counselors at the outreach center, but he refused to talk to anyone else. I never saw any bruises on him, but I knew well enough that the worst scars aren’t ones you can see.”
