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“How did you get in here?” It’s the last question on my mind, but the only one I’m brave enough to ask.
Cameron breathes out a quiet laugh then turns his head and nods toward a long, skinny horizontal window by the oversized document scanner in the back corner.
“It’s been open for years. I like to let Theo think he’s special, though.” His gaze returns to me as he offers a short-lived crooked smile.
Sliding the whiskey bottle along the desk, he stops when it clanks against the side of an empty glass.
“Can I offer you a drink? Or would that be taboo? There could be hidden cameras in here filming us.” He lifts a brow, and his expression teeters between hurt and cruelty. I feel the impact of both, my chest tightening as my pulse starts to race.
“Cameron—”
He holds up an open palm to stop me, letting go of the whiskey with his other hand so he can pinch his brow.
“Don’t. That was harsh and I’m sorry.”
He hooks his thumb in his necktie and tugs until it loosens enough for him to pull over his head and toss it on the desk next to him. He leans back on his palms, his eyes hazed from the buzz but his gaze able to hold on to mine. I take a step toward him, letting my backpack slide from my shoulder to my wrist so I can leave it on the floor.
“My dad met my mom at a party at the old barn.”
I stop moving as he speaks, not wanting to do anything to threaten this glimpse he’s allowing me.
“My mom went here, which maybe you knew. Maybe not. She was the Welles golden girl, with perfect grades and offers from every Ivy League out there. My dad—his name is Michael—dropped out of high school when he was sixteen. He went to Public, in the city, on the southside. His mom, my grandmother I guess, was a single parent. His dad left right after he was born. Longshoreman with a real love for women and drink.”
Cameron’s lip puffs out with a tiny laugh as he looks to his side and taps his fingers against the side of the whiskey bottle.
“You aren’t the same,” I say.
His eyes meet mine again, his mouth pulled in tight as he leans his head to one side in doubt.
“Maybe,” he relents.
His gaze drifts lower, so I step closer, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs about a dozen feet away. I pull my legs in, hugging them to my body, and rest my chin on top, desperate for more of his story.
“What was your dad doing at the party?” I ask.
He smirks, nodding at the ground.
“Prowling for women, like his old man,” he says through an oddly fond chuckle. “He had no idea what he was getting into with her, though. One of his friends had heard about these rich girls who liked to get wild and crazy in the woods. My mom was one of them. It’s hard for me to imagine her that way because the woman I’ve always known seems to repel fun and joy. She’s serious and driven.”
“You’re serious, too,” I try to encourage.
He lifts his head with a laugh.
“Thanks, Brooky, but I’m not the apple from my mom’s tree. And I’m fine with that,” he says.
Brooky.My lungs expand with new life hearing him call me that. He’s not angry. He is, however, hurt.
“My mom and dad somehow had this magic connection, as he tells it. They fell in love hard and fast, and my dad would ride his motorcycle out this way to see her every chance he got. Andshocker!They had sex and conceived me.” He flattens his palm on his bare chest, which draws my eyes to his toned muscles. My gaze lingers longer than it should, but I indulge as he continues to share.
“My mom’s parents are rather conservative, and they were not too keen on her life veering off their perfect little roadmap. They forbade her from seeing him. You probably know as well as anyone how well that works.” He lifts a brow, his eyes boring into mine, making his point. I tuck my chin tighter against my knees.
“They were going to run away. They just needed the means to survive, and my dad . . .” Cameron’s head falls back and his eyes close as he quietly laughs. “Oh man, Dad. You’re tough, but a real dumbass.”
“What happened,” I croak.
Cameron stares at the ceiling for several long seconds, his jaw working as he chews at the inside of his cheek. Shaking his head and righting his gaze to mine, he draws in a deep breath through his nose, his mouth a perfectly straight line.
“He offered to do one job with his buddies, the same ones who took him to that party at the barn. They were robbing this old bank in Quincy, and they swore to my dad they did their homework, cased it and all that shit.”
