It wasn’t until the next day, under the bright November sun, that the enormity of Cam’s childhood house really dawned on Ty. Each of the four bedrooms had their own en suite bathrooms, the first floor had twelve-foot ceilings, and the backyard deck stretched for miles before ending with an in-ground swimming pool. And this was considered modest for the neighborhood.
Each room Ty entered bore obvious signs of the full, vibrant childhoods Cam and Izzy had had there. Pictures of them and their parents at varying ages hung on the walls. Many of them included Davis too. Magazines that bore Izzy’s photography lined a bookshelf. The three-car garage held old bicycles and toboggans.
Cam and Izzy—and even Davis—moved about the house with complete ease, as if this was what a home should look like. And why shouldn’t they? This was what they knew home to be. Except this didn’t look anything like what Ty knew home to be.
The spacious rooms contrasted with the tiny closets Ty had grown up in, fighting others for the privacy of the bathroom. The single picture he had owned was of his mother, young at the time, holding a baby Ty in her arms. His entire life and all he possessed had fit into one suitcase, which he’d hauled around from one house to the next until they all blurred into the same monotonous set of walls and doors.
Busker woofed from behind him, giving Ty warning of approaching bodies.
“Hey.”
Ty turned at the greeting. He’d been studying some family photos displayed gallery-style in the den. Cam was standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, relaxed and calm, no tension in the shoulders, no ticking of the jaw.
Ty’s heart skipped a beat simply from being in the same room as him. The air between them vibrated, like there was some sort of invisible tether, drawing them inextricably closer. Ty didn’t want to examine it too closely, or put a name to it.
“Hey,” Ty answered.
“Dinner’s almost ready.” Cam nodded toward the kitchen where Davis—of all people—had spent the day helping Wendy with the Thanksgiving meal.
Ty nodded but made no move to join the rest of the family. He’d gone into the kitchen earlier. Davis and Wendy danced around each other in the kitchen as if they’d practiced the routine a million times. In the living room, Izzy and Bill shouted at the football game on TV. Ty was an outsider observing them through picture-perfect windows; he was loath to stain the images with his presence.
“Oh god, what are you looking at?” Cam came farther into the room, scanning the pictures on the wall.
Ty grinned at the way Cam winced at pictures of himself. “You were a cute kid.”
Cam grunted. “My mom always goes crazy with the pictures. She still has boxes and boxes of them stashed in storage somewhere.”
“That must be nice.”
He got a curious glance from Cam. “Yeah, it was nice, I guess.” A beat passed in silence, heavy and filled with unsaid words. “Come on. They’re waiting.”
The dining room was set like a scene out of a television show. Garlands of colored leaves hung around the room, decorative gourds sat in pretty piles on the table. Dishes of varying sizes filled the rest of the space, and the family was already gathered with two chairs empty.
Everything looked and smelled delicious: green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and of course, the turkey. It had been ages since Ty had a Thanksgiving dinner; he’d certainly never had one as decked out as this one.
“This meal is amazing, Wendy,” Ty said as they passed the dishes around the table. “Thanks for putting it all together.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. Cary and I pretty much have it down to a science now, we’ve been doing this for so many years.” Wendy smiled and scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto her plate.
“It’s mostly Wendy. I only do what she tells me,” Davis said from where he was sitting across the table from Ty.
“Nonsense, you’re one-half of the team. You were even kind enough to drive up a day early to go grocery shopping with me.” Wendy reached over and swatted him lightly on the shoulder. “So, Tyler, I’m curious, where are you from?”
Ty paused in the middle of chewing on a piece of succulent turkey. Wendy wore a wide, open expression. His stomach churned as he swallowed his food—here we go again. “I grew up in New Jersey.”
“Oh, but where are you from? Before America?”
Cam and Izzy spoke over each other.
“Mom—”
“You can’t ask things like that.”
“What?” She surveyed the table, appearing genuinely oblivious to the insensitivity of her question.
Ty put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. It was always this question. As if his being here, in this country, having lived and worked and contributed to society, wasn’t enough for him to be American. “I’m American. I was born in New Jersey and grew up there. I moved to New York when I started working.”
“Oh, and what about your parents?”
“Oh, my god, Mom—”
“Stop—”
“Wendy—” Bill chimed in this time too.
Ty could tell Davis was trying hard not to smirk.
“They both died when I was young.” Ty suddenly didn’t have an appetite anymore.
“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” Wendy reached over and placed a hand on top of his, her concern and sympathy earnest. But Ty had a distinct feeling that she still didn’t understand her family’s objections to her questions. “That must be terrible not knowing where you’re from.”
Her words were a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. “I’m from the US,” he said with more force than was likely appropriate.
“Jesus Christ, Mom,” Cam muttered under his breath.
Wendy nodded, but plowed on as if nothing was amiss. “So, then, do you have any Thanksgiving traditions, Tyler?”
Next to him, Ty felt Cam tense even more. Around the table, everyone except Bill had stopped eating. He needed to change the direction of this conversation—the last thing he wanted was to ruin Thanksgiving. If Wendy wanted answers, he would turn on the charm and give her some damn answer, even if it killed him.
“No, Wendy,” Ty said, forcing a grin on his face. “I don’t really have any traditions. I grew up mostly in the foster care system, so Thanksgiving or any of the holidays were never really happy times for me. Now, I take the opportunity to work, you know, when everyone else wants time off.” He picked up his fork again and loaded it with some turkey. “It’s worked out for me so far, but I’m glad I’m able to spend Thanksgiving with you this year.”
“Cam, how’s therapy going?” Izzy jumped in before Wendy could speak again, and suddenly all eyes were on Cam.
The veins stood out in sharp relief on the backs of Cam’s hands, and Ty feared that Cam would shatter the glass he was clutching. The glare Cam threw in Izzy’s direction would have leveled her had she not been his sister. As it was, she stared back, eyes wide with a message that even Ty could understand.
“It’s fine,” Cam bit out. Busker woofed from where he sat under the table. The tilt of Cam’s lips bordered on painful. “I got a dog, obviously.”
“But why did you get this one?” Davis asked with a glass of wine raised halfway to his lips. “He’s so mangy.”
Cam shifted his glare over to Davis. “Shut up.”
Davis cocked an eyebrow as he sipped at his wine.
“Guys.” Bill set down his fork with a thud. “Can’t we get through one dinner without everything devolving into a soap opera?”
Ty snuck a glance around the table; all the members of the Donnelly family, Davis included, wore slightly guilty expressions. So maybe things didn’t always go so smoothly with their big, happy family. And yet, even with the drama that waxed and waned at the dinner table, it felt . . . like a family. For the first time in his life, Ty learned to miss something he never thought he lacked.
“Hey, if you want to stay here for the weekend, we don’t have to drive back tonight.” Ty zipped up his weekend bag and straightened.
Across the room, Cam threw stuff into his backpack. He paused with a rumpled T-shirt in his hand. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Ty shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. “But I can always jump on the train tomorrow morning.”
Cam regarded him, eyes probing, and Ty did his best to keep his face neutral. It was getting harder and harder to separate his feelings from his expressions.
“I don’t mind.” Cam stuffed the T-shirt into his backpack. “There’s only so much of their crazy I can stand. Besides, Izzy’s driving back with Cary, so it’s not like she needs me.”
“Don’t you miss the crazy?” Because Ty would if it were his to miss.
Cam took a step toward Ty, but it wasn’t only a step; it felt like an invitation to something more. “I have enough crazy in my life. I think I need something a little calmer, more stable.”
Ty swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat. He wanted to take a step too, but his feet were stuck to the floor. After a moment, the corners of Cam’s lips tilted up and his head dropped as he turned back to his backpack.
“Let’s drive back tonight,” Cam said with a touch of the authority Ty remembered from the days when Cam ran entire refugee camps. The tone held a promise that maybe things would work out, but Ty wasn’t sure how much he should believe it.
He grabbed his weekender and slapped his thigh twice. “Come on, Busker. Let’s go.” The old, half-blind dog staggered to his feet and plodded along beside Ty. Slobbery he might be, but he shared some key qualities with his owner—he had an uncanny way of working himself into Ty’s heart.
They had barely pulled out of the driveway, with Busker snoring in the back seat, when Ty’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out—it was Dani.
“Hello?” Ty answered. “Hey, Dani.”
“Hey, Ty. Happy Thanksgiving.” Wherever Dani was, it was noisy in the background.
“Yeah, happy Thanksgiving to you too.”
“I’ll make this quick. I’m at this Thanksgiving thing, and I was talking with David Beretta.” The background noise dimmed as if she’d moved down the hall or into the next room. “And he said that the guy they had tapped for the foreign correspondent position suddenly backed out.”
“Seriously?” Ty’s heart rate kicked up a notch.
“Yeah, so that leaves you at the top of their short list.”
“Wow, okay. What happened to the other guy?”
“Not sure, but David was pretty pissed.” Someone shouted her name in the background. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but wanted to give you a heads-up, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem. Bye.”
Ty hung up the phone and stared at the screen for a minute, Dani’s news not fully sinking in. The job could be his; it could really be his.
“Who was that?” Cam’s profile was open, curious.
“Danielle Myers. My editor.” In all the excitement leading up to Thanksgiving and then the stress of meeting Cam’s family, Ty had forgotten to mention he was looking for a new job—one that would take him halfway around the world. His stomach sank at the realization.
“Is everything okay?” Cam’s hands were on the steering wheel, alternately gripping and releasing.
“Yeah,” Ty said, pausing before he continued. “It’s about a new job.”
Cam flicked his eyes momentarily to Ty and then back to the road. “Oh, yeah?”
“But it’s not with CBN. It’s with ANN.”
Another eye flick in his direction. “Yeah?”
“It’s a foreign correspondent position.” He took a deep breath. “It’s based in Abu Dhabi.”
Cam’s eye flick lasted longer this time, almost too long before he turned back to the road and corrected his steering to avoid taking them into the next lane. After two beats, he continued. “Is it a contract position?”
Ty opened his mouth to speak and found he didn’t like the answer he had to give. “No, it’s permanent.”
A couple of more beats passed in silence. “Oh.”
Then the silence stretched, long and thick, broken only by the snoring dog in the back seat. The longer it hung there, the more difficult it was to break.
“You never told me you were looking for a job.” When Cam finally spoke, it was soft with a hint of defeat.
Ty turned and found Cam’s jaw ticking, his hands tight on the steering wheel. He suddenly felt like he had lied, that he had somehow tricked Cam into thinking he was someone he was not. “No, I didn’t. You’ve had a lot on your plate.”
Cam hands gripped tighter, and the steering wheel shook with the tension, sending the car weaving back and forth on the highway. “What’s wrong with the job you have now?” He sounded almost strangled.
“What’s not wrong with it?” Ty let it out all a little too vehemently. “They’ve got me locked into working the Chinatown neighborhood, and they won’t admit it’s because they’re racist. They said they liked the work I did in Kenya and with the trade talks, but that’s not enough for them to consider me for a foreign correspondent position. They have the audacity to say they need my skills at the local level. Yeah, well, apparently, the only skill they value is the color of my fucking skin.”
Ty sucked in air as his heart beat out a rapid rhythm in his chest.
“You’re just going to leave?”
Ty pinned Cam with an incredulous look. “I said they refuse to promote me. What choice do I have?”
His jaw ticked, his brow knitted together. “Right. Of course you should leave. Not like there’s anything keeping you here, is there?”
Ty snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t have anything keeping him here, not technically. Yeah, they had sex a few times, he’d met Cam’s parents, and he’d held Cam in his arms last night, but that didn’t mean they were anything, did it? Was he supposed to throw away his dreams because Cam had come waltzing into his life with those big puppy-dog eyes?
The car felt too small and suffocating. Ty cracked open the window, hoping the cold air would cut through the thickness of his anger.
“I am going to leave. Because I know when my time is up, when I’ve outlived my usefulness and I should move on.” He regretted the harshness of his words even as they were coming out of his mouth, and hoped Cam didn’t catch his implication that Cam had stayed in the field too long.
Cam’s head snapped around so fast Ty thought they would swerve into the eighteen-wheel tractor trailer in the next lane. Cam course corrected in time, but by then the awkwardness between them had exploded into palpable hostility.
“You mean how I didn’t leave the field? I had a fucking job to do,” Cam bit out, growling through clenched teeth. “People depended on me. I wasn’t about to shirk my responsibility because it got hard.”
Ty scoffed. “What responsibility do I have to anyone but myself?”
The question festered like an infected wound in the middle of Ty’s chest. The rational answer only poured salt onto it, the sting making it difficult to breathe. In the back seat, Busker stirred, whining once or twice before settling back into his slumber, and Ty wished he could escape as easily as the dog.
The rest of the drive was quiet. His answer—he had no responsibility to anyone—ran on repeat in his mind until the words didn’t sound like real words anymore. Cam might have found a way into his life and was threatening to tear down the walls of his heart, but Ty’s obligation was first and foremost to himself. His responsibility was to build a successful career, defy all the people who said he couldn’t, and be the person his mother would have been proud of. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked by a vulnerable, damaged soul.
By the time they pulled up in front of Ty’s building, he almost believed it.
“Thanks for inviting me to Thanksgiving.” Ty schooled his features, slipping behind his professional mask.
Cam’s stare was hard. He wasn’t buying the act. “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoyed it.”
A little bit of Ty’s fight melted away. He had enjoyed it, and he would cherish the brief glimpse of family he’d gotten, even if it wasn’t in the cards for him.
He unbuckled his seat belt and pushed open his door. With one foot on the pavement, he turned. “Thanks for the drive back.”
“You’re welcome.” Fatigue painted Cam’s words and the droop of his shoulders. It was late, and they’d had a long day, but the weariness was from more than needing a good night’s rest. An invitation to come up was on the tip of Ty’s tongue—fuck responsibilities, the future, and anything that lay beyond the next sunrise.
But before Ty could speak, Cam dropped his eyes. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
It felt like more salt in his open wound. “Yeah,” he managed to squeak out. “See you around.”
The car pulled away before he was even halfway to the front door of his building. He stopped, turned, and watched as it disappeared into the New York City traffic.