For two full days Ty debated whether he should turn down the Thanksgiving invitation. He was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling when a text came through on his phone. His first thought was that Cam had texted him, but when he checked the message, it was from a number he hadn’t bothered saving.
What’s up? Crazy running into you on the train.
Libor. Looking for a booty call.
Ty was less than interested. He threw the phone back onto the nightstand and went back to staring at the ceiling.
Sleep evaded him as he turned over Cam’s invitation in his mind. There was no logical reason not to go. His alternative was another holiday spent alone with takeout and Netflix. But going meant nothing, he told himself sternly. It was only Thanksgiving, for fuck’s sake.
He was still trying to convince himself of that when exhaustion finally overcame him in the midnight hours. And when he woke up in the morning wrapped around a pillow, nuzzling it as if it had an auburn beard, he tried to tell himself that meant nothing too.
It wasn’t until he arrived at his office that he finally gave in and admitted that it wasn’t nothing. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d been invited to someone’s house for Thanksgiving. Going to Cam’s was definitely something, but he didn’t know if that was something he wanted.
He sat at his desk, staring at his phone, with the string of messages he’d shared with Cam staring back at him. In that moment, memories of his mom rose unbidden from his subconscious: the two of them laughing as they chased each other around the park; her telling a silly joke as she lay weak and thin on the hospital bed. With his thumbs poised over the keyboard of his phone, Ty felt warm and comfortable, yet scared and out of control all at the same time.
It would be safer not to go. But then one more memory resurfaced: it had been close to the end, and she had squeezed his hand with a surprising amount of force. She’d told him to be strong, don’t be afraid, fight and never give up.
For the first time in a long time, Ty wished she was still with him so she could tell him what the fuck to do. Except he already knew what she would have said.
So, he accepted the invitation.
He didn’t see Cam again until Thanksgiving. Though, in the intervening week, Izzy had sent him several selfies with Busker, and even a photo of Cam with the dog. It’d looked like an unguarded moment: Cam crouched down and scratching the mutt behind the ears, wearing a look that screamed love. Ty had gone back to stare at that picture more times than he wanted to admit.
By the time Cam and Izzy picked him up on Wednesday night to drive up to Scarsdale, Ty wasn’t sure joining their family for Thanksgiving was such a good idea anymore. It felt too much like meeting Cam’s parents, which was ridiculous because he had already met them and this wasn’t the sort of relationship where meeting the parents was a milestone. Or so he told himself.
To add to that, Scarsdale was in one of the wealthiest zip codes in the country, and Cam had once admitted that he’d gone to a fancy private school. Ty had spent most of his adult life pretending to be part of the upper crust of society, but Cam’s family was the upper crust of society. Did he really think he’d be able to slip seamlessly into their lives?
Most of the drive was filled with Izzy regaling them with stories from her photo shoots. Ty chimed in a few times with antics from the newsroom. Busker lay on the back seat next to Izzy, snoring.
Cam was mostly silent, eyes trained on the road. His grip on the steering wheel looked a little too tight, but maybe Ty was projecting his own nervousness. As they got closer to the Donnelly house, the mood in the car shifted. Izzy ran out of stories, and Ty didn’t feel like telling any more himself. He tapped his fingers against his legs while Cam’s knuckles turned white.
When they finally pulled into a tree-lined drive that ended at a large gray-stoned house, the tension in the car was palpable. Cam parked behind a black Mercedes, turned off the engine, climbed out, and left the door hanging open. Busker lifted his sleepy head from his paws, and Izzy sighed in relief.
“Thank god,” she muttered. “I don’t know if I could’ve taken much more of that.” She let herself out with Busker in tow.
Ty followed more slowly. His nervousness was stupid; he was good with people. He’d met dozens of people who had less reason to like him than Cam’s parents. He needed to pull his shit together before he rubbed off too much on Cam and sent him into a tailspin.
He climbed out of the car and walked around to lean against the trunk, arms folded across his chest. Tension lined Cam’s shoulders, and his hand trembled as he brought a cigarette up to his lips. And there was that scary warm feeling again, growing stronger with each passing day.
“You okay?” Ty asked when Cam finally turned around, cigarette butt crushed under his heel.
Cam’s jaw ticked, and he studied the ground for a minute before meeting Ty’s gaze. “I didn’t warn you before, but my family’s crazy. I mean, you’ve already met Izzy.”
Ty raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘crazy’?”
Cam shifted on his feet. “They’re . . . I don’t know, enthusiastic?”
“You’ve used that word to describe them before.”
He shot Ty a quick glare. “That’s because they are.”
A grin tugged at Ty’s lips, and his ridiculous self-doubt faded. This was Cam, and he knew Cam. Perhaps not in the same way Izzy and his parents knew him from a lifetime of being a family. But he knew Cam in the middle of the night, raw and exposed. It was both terrifying and comforting how much he was drawn to that Cam.
“Anyway, you’ve been warned.”
Cam stepped close to open the trunk, and without thinking, Ty pulled him in between his spread legs. His hands landed on the small of Cam’s back, and Cam’s arms floated up to his shoulders. They leaned into each other, forehead against forehead, as if drawn together like opposite ends of a magnet.
Ty exchanged his nervousness for Cam’s tension, and like a double negative, they canceled each other out. Their breathing offset one another too; Cam breathed out as Ty breathed in, sharing the same air until Ty felt a little dizzy. He tightened his hold, and Cam shifted closer.
He didn’t know who initiated the kiss. One minute they were breathing, and the next their lips brushed against each other, soft and gentle. Cam tasted like smoke and ash and all the forbidden things Ty never allowed himself to want. But now he’d gotten a taste, and he feared that one taste wouldn’t be enough.
“Hey! Save that shit for the bedroom!”
Cam jumped at Izzy’s shout across the drive, and Ty itched to tug him back. Instead, he stood and ran a hand through his hair to fix any stray strands while Cam grabbed their bags from the trunk. Once inside, they followed the voices to the living room.
Cam’s parents were there talking with Izzy, and so was another person Ty had not expected to see: Cary Davis. That black Mercedes must have belonged to him. All four sets of eyes turned to them as they entered, and Ty slipped behind his professional mask.
“Tyler!” The older redheaded woman, whom Ty remembered as Cam’s mom, jumped up from the couch and advanced on him with a bright smile.
“Mrs. Donnelly.” Ty bent down to give the petite woman a hug. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Oh please, call me Wendy.” She waved her hand in the air. “And it’s our pleasure to have you over.”
Cam’s dad was next. “And I’m Bill, no formalities necessary here.”
“Great to see you again too.” He shook hands with the tall older gentleman, from whom Cam and Izzy must have gotten their height.
“And this is Cary Davis, a good friend of the family.” Wendy gestured to where Davis sat in an armchair with a tumbler in his hand. “He went to the same high school as Cam and Izzy. Inseparable they were, the three of them.”
“Oh, we know each other already, Wendy.” Davis nodded at him, smirking. “Ang.”
“Davis.” Ty nodded back.
Izzy looked back and forth between them and rolled her eyes.
“Come, come!” Wendy ushered them forward. “Would you like something to drink? Bill, can you make sure the kids all have something to drink? Is anyone hungry? I can pull something together.”
“No, Mom. We ate dinner before we drove up,” Izzy said, scratching Busker’s head. “But I could use a glass of wine, Dad.”
“Cary, Tyler, how do you know each other?” Bill asked as he poured a red for Izzy.
Davis took a sip of his drink, his eyebrow cocked as if in a challenge.
Ty wondered if Davis thought he was treading on his territory. “We run in the same social circles down in New York.”
“Oh, really?” Bill looked intrigued.
Izzy threw Davis some side-eye. “Cary throws some spectacular parties. He’s kind of famous for them.”
“Is that so?” Bill held an empty tumbler in one hand. “I had no idea, Cary. Tyler, what would you like?”
“Whatever you’re pouring.”
He took the glass Bill offered and hesitated for a split second, examining his seating options. A large sectional dominated the room, surrounded by a smaller love seat and an armchair. Everything was decidedly warm, from the throw pillows to the family photos on the mantel, to the textured rug that covered most of the floor. The place felt lived in, worn around the edges from years of gentle use.
Davis was already in the armchair, and Cam threw himself onto the love seat. Izzy was curled up in the corner of the sectional with Busker, and Wendy and Bill took the long end. That left Ty with the short end of the sectional, closest to Cam.
Wendy dominated the conversation, peppering Ty with questions until he told her everything there was to know about the newsroom. She gushed about having seen him on TV a few times, and then asked about all the famous people he knew.
When she wasn’t busy petting Busker, Izzy jumped in on the conversation, shaking her head at her mother’s questions and making snarky comments that Wendy waved off with a practiced, dismissive hand. Halfway through the evening, Bill and Davis turned into their own conversation about something Ty couldn’t catch, and Cam shifted, stretching his legs out as he slouched into his seat.
“Oh, dear me.” Wendy yawned. “I need to take my old self to bed.” She stood and leaned over to kiss Izzy on the head. “You kids behave yourselves.”
Then she moved to Ty and kissed him on the head too. He blinked in surprise, and Izzy smirked at him. Cam was next, and he bent forward to better accommodate his mother.
“Cam, dear. I assumed you and Tyler could share your old room, so I gave Cary the guest bed, okay?” Wendy placed her last kiss on Davis’s head, seemingly oblivious to the uncertain glance Cam cast in Ty’s direction.
She headed for the stairs with another yawn, and Bill followed her a moment later.
“Sorry.” Cam sat up, hands on his knees. “I forgot to tell her. I can sleep on the couch if you’d like.”
“Really? It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Ty grinned, and his heart did a weird flipping thing when the corner of Cam’s mouth tilted up.
“Come on, Cary. Let’s go.” Izzy stood, giving Busker a gentle nudge to get him off the couch, and tapped Davis on the shoulder.
“Why? I’m comfortable here.” Davis made no move to uncross his legs and stand from his armchair.
“Don’t be a dick. Come on.” Izzy stole his drink from his hand and grabbed him by the elbow.
Davis threw Ty one last challenging look before he rose and trailed Izzy and Busker back to the kitchen.
“You’re sure it’s okay?” Cam asked. “I know out by the car and everything, but . . .”
Ty raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Cam made as if to speak, but pressed his lips together in a slight smile at the last second. “Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.”
He was running again, this time on streets that wound through a concrete jungle. He ducked down this side street, and then up that avenue, but no matter how hard he ran or what direction he took, they kept chasing him. And they were getting closer.
Their shouts grew louder, the thump of their feet against the ground pulsing through Cam’s veins, and the clang of metal against metal ringing out behind him. They were gaining, and he couldn’t outrun them.
A risky glance over his shoulder showed them to be a lot closer than Cam had thought. Only a few feet away, barely enough time for Cam to raise an arm as he stumbled backward and fell to the ground. Then they were upon him, then moving past him, and not a single hand, not a single stick or metal pipe, brushed his skin as they passed.
Cam scrambled to his feet as they continued down the street, now chasing after a figure running in the distance. No! He took off, their positions reversed as he pumped his legs to catch up to the angry mob. Closing the distance, Cam fought with everything he had, because it was the right thing to do, because lives depended on it.
He fought, but they were bigger and stronger. There were more of them, and when they fought back, he knew he was going to lose. They restrained him, wrenching his arms behind his back until his shoulders felt like they would dislocate. Half marching, half dragging, they towed him to where the faceless victim had fallen to the ground.
The mob was on top of the poor soul, and all Cam could see were the feet kicking back and forth to little avail. No! Leave him alone! He never did anything to you!
Then he noticed the polished loafers and the hem of neatly pressed chinos. No, no, no. It couldn’t be.
No! Get off him! Cam struggled against his captors, his movements sending sharp stabs of pain through his shoulders. One of the mob came over and punched him deep in his gut, and Cam collapsed into himself, gasping for air. Still, he struggled.
Don’t touch him, you disgusting bastards! Next came a punch in the face, snapping Cam’s head sideways. His vision blurred, and his mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood. No. Stop.
With no warning, his arms were released, and he fell to the ground. Unable to move fast enough to catch himself, he collapsed face-first into the concrete, smashing his cheekbone and breaking his nose. His shoulders throbbed in pain, and it felt like a million spears stabbing his arms as blood flowed back into his limbs.
Grimacing, Cam forced himself up onto all fours with shaky arms that he couldn’t yet fully control. He drew himself, inch by excruciatingly slow inch, toward the body that lay prone and still on the ground ahead of him. No. Please. Not Ty. Please let him be okay. Please.
The loafers were scuffed and the chinos were stained and torn. The baby-blue polo shirt hung loose, ripped halfway up his chest. Underneath, the normally smooth, silky skin was broken and bloody. His arms lay in awkward, unnatural positions, fingers crooked, bone sticking out.
And his face. Oh god, his face. Cam’s eyes stung, the wetness on his cheeks joined by a fresh flow of tears.
Patches of thick black hair were missing. A gash split one eyebrow into two. Both eyes were swollen shut. His lips were busted and bleeding, and his nose, once straight, was now crooked.
No, oh god, Ty. Cam kneeled over the lifeless body, longing to pull the man into his arms and never let go, yet afraid to touch him. Grazing a hand gently along the once-smooth skin of Ty’s face, a pain blossomed in Cam’s chest that hurt far more than any of his physical injuries. No, Ty couldn’t be dead, not when he finally found him. The baby-blue fabric darkened with drops of tears falling from Cam’s eyes.
No. Cam cried into Ty’s still shoulder. No. No!
Ty woke with a start at the jerky, erratic movements shaking the bed. Next to him, Cam thrashed in his sleep, caught in the throes of a nightmare. Sitting up, Ty ducked a flying fist, grabbed Cam’s arm by the wrist, and held it down.
“Cam!” He shook the sleeping man’s shoulder. “Cam! Wake up!” He shook it a little harder.
“Ty!” Cam sat up with a jolt, wide-eyed and chest heaving. He scanned the room in a panic until his eyes landed on him. “Ty, oh god, Ty.”
Cam reached for him and traced his hands over Ty’s forehead, his nose, and his cheeks.
“Hey, yeah.” Ty held on to him as Cam leaned in close and brought their foreheads together. “That’s me. I’m here.”
“You’re okay,” Cam whispered, so quietly Ty almost didn’t hear him despite their proximity.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m totally fine. It was all a dream.”
Cam leaned back a few inches, the wildness still visible in the moonlight spilling from the window. His fingers floated over Ty’s face again, lingering along his jaw, pressing against his lips. He held up Ty’s hands, studying each finger and pressing kisses to the knuckles. Cam’s touch was delicate, almost reverent, and the examination turned Ty inside out with a potent desire to smooth Cam’s brokenness.
“You’re okay,” Cam said, a little more clearly this time.
Ty nodded.
“It was a dream.” It sounded like Cam was speaking to himself.
He took hold of Cam’s hands and brought them to his chest. “Yeah, it was a dream. Was it that dream?”
Cam nodded, chin dropping low.
“Was . . . was I the victim this time?” Even saying those words gave Ty a chill deep in his bones.
Another nod and the hands held against Ty’s chest flattened, pressing against the spot where Ty’s heart thumped with increasing speed.
“Hey.” Ty put a finger under Cam’s chin to bring his head back up. “I’m here. It was a dream. Nothing happened, and I’m fine.”
The wildness had faded some, but it still gave Cam’s eyes that out-of-control look. As the adrenaline from the dream wore off, Cam began to shake—Ty could feel the tremors through Cam’s hands. He laid them back down onto the bed and pulled the covers up tight. With Cam’s head cushioned on his shoulder, Ty held him, as if he could squeeze the shaking right out of him. Cam’s arms snaked around Ty’s midsection and held on.
Slowly, Cam’s breathing evened out, but neither of them slept.
“Tell me about the dream,” Ty whispered into the night.
Cam didn’t respond right away, a slight hitch in his breathing the only sign that he had heard the question. Then he shifted in closer and spoke with a voice that sounded as haunted as his eyes had looked.
“It’s the same as always.” He spoke quietly, his breath warm on Ty’s shoulder. “I’m running and they’re chasing me. They get ahead of me, and I try to fight them off. This time they held me back. But I can see who’s on the ground.”
“Me.” Ty’s heart did a quick thump thump.
“Yeah. Wearing your fucking chinos and loafers.”
The corners of Ty’s lips curled up, though he told himself it wasn’t funny.
“Did I die?” His throat closed around the words, his body not wanting to entertain the idea even as his brain sought clarification.
Cam nodded, his beard-covered cheek rubbing against Ty’s T-shirt.
Nothing else needed to be said. Cam dreamt about him; that must mean Cam cared about him.
Cam began tracing some pattern with his finger right in the middle of Ty’s chest. The path of that finger blazed like fire, branding Ty in an elemental way. It hurt and made him feel alive all at the same time.
Ty closed his hand over Cam’s, their fingers entwined as they held each other in the cocoon of blankets. He cared about Cam too, but that meant his life would be forever changed. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that.