run. Good riddance. His stomach growled its displeasure. He didn’t want to ask Galen to feed him again, but he figured eating Galen’s food wasn’t any worse than sleeping in his guest bedroom.
“You’ve never needed to ask for help.” Galen was right. He never had asked for it, and he hated having to do it now.
He sighed and got out of bed, though he was tempted to stay under the warm duvet. The sheets were nothing like the crisp pressed cotton he was used to. They were a slightly off-white color and well-worn. Still, he liked the softness against his skin. He’d ask Luisa to add a bit more fabric softener the next time she changed his sheets.
The thought made him laugh. Of course she wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Not for him, at least. Still, she was on the company payroll. For now. They’d need someone to keep up the Manhattan apartment until they sold it. He wondered if she’d be able to find another job.
For the first time since the entire mess had blindsided him, he felt something other than sorry for himself. Guilt. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling—he’d felt it when he fucked things up and broken Aiden’s heart—but somehow this time it felt so much more real. He thought of Luisa’s kids, the ones she’d proudly showed him pictures of, and wondered how she’d make ends meet.
She’ll be fine. He needed to focus on himself right now, or he’d be in far more dire straits.
He ran a hand through his hair and found it soft when he’d been expecting the usual stickiness from the gel he favored. He vaguely remembered having showered before bed. He’d been so tired. He looked around and saw a pile of clothes on the nearby table—Galen must have put them out for him while he slept. Normally someone coming into his room while he slept would have bothered him, but today he didn’t have it in him to care.
Cam picked up a pair of jeans from the pile. They were a bit long but otherwise fit well enough, once he’d secured them with a belt. Unlike Galen’s jeans, these looked relatively new, with no holes that Cam could see. He’d expected to see a T-shirt but instead found a polo shirt in pale blue. It surprised Cam that Galen had realized he didn’t wear T-shirts. He was quite sure it wasn’t a coincidence.
He wondered again why Galen had offered him a place to stay. Undoubtedly he expected something in return, and since Cam clearly had nothing to offer other than himself, he guessed Galen probably did want sex, despite what he’d said. Sex with Galen wouldn’t be so bad. He might be a bit slow, but he was attractive enough. Cam hadn’t been looking for sex, but he wouldn’t say no to Galen either.
You don’t even know if he’s gay. Cam had always been pretty good at guessing. Gay or bi, judging by how comfortable Galen appeared about asking Cam home. Few people wondered about Cam’s orientation—only grandmothers and young women seemed to be oblivious. His mother knew and ignored it. Duncan had never asked. No one else seemed to care, if you didn’t count the men who came on to him. But he liked that.
He pulled on the shirt, then checked his hair in the mirror. Without product, it was even messier than usual. Well, it wasn’t as if Galen cared about how Cam looked—he’d taken him home even though he hadn’t bathed since he’d left the cheap motel two days before. Cam yawned and glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 10:00 a.m. Not all that late, really.
After washing his face, he got dressed and walked down the stairs in the pair of athletic socks Galen had left him. They slid over the wood floors, but they were warm. Max met him at the bottom of the stairs, his tail wagging in circles like a furry helicopter. As soon as Cam let go of the railing, Max jumped on him, paws on his shoulders.
Damn animal. Why did people bother with pets?
“Max! Down!”
Cam looked around for Galen. Cam expected to find him in the kitchen, but the voice came from the small
“You’ve never needed to ask for help.” Galen was right. He never had asked for it, and he hated having to do it now.
He sighed and got out of bed, though he was tempted to stay under the warm duvet. The sheets were nothing like the crisp pressed cotton he was used to. They were a slightly off-white color and well-worn. Still, he liked the softness against his skin. He’d ask Luisa to add a bit more fabric softener the next time she changed his sheets.
The thought made him laugh. Of course she wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Not for him, at least. Still, she was on the company payroll. For now. They’d need someone to keep up the Manhattan apartment until they sold it. He wondered if she’d be able to find another job.
For the first time since the entire mess had blindsided him, he felt something other than sorry for himself. Guilt. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling—he’d felt it when he fucked things up and broken Aiden’s heart—but somehow this time it felt so much more real. He thought of Luisa’s kids, the ones she’d proudly showed him pictures of, and wondered how she’d make ends meet.
She’ll be fine. He needed to focus on himself right now, or he’d be in far more dire straits.
He ran a hand through his hair and found it soft when he’d been expecting the usual stickiness from the gel he favored. He vaguely remembered having showered before bed. He’d been so tired. He looked around and saw a pile of clothes on the nearby table—Galen must have put them out for him while he slept. Normally someone coming into his room while he slept would have bothered him, but today he didn’t have it in him to care.
Cam picked up a pair of jeans from the pile. They were a bit long but otherwise fit well enough, once he’d secured them with a belt. Unlike Galen’s jeans, these looked relatively new, with no holes that Cam could see. He’d expected to see a T-shirt but instead found a polo shirt in pale blue. It surprised Cam that Galen had realized he didn’t wear T-shirts. He was quite sure it wasn’t a coincidence.
He wondered again why Galen had offered him a place to stay. Undoubtedly he expected something in return, and since Cam clearly had nothing to offer other than himself, he guessed Galen probably did want sex, despite what he’d said. Sex with Galen wouldn’t be so bad. He might be a bit slow, but he was attractive enough. Cam hadn’t been looking for sex, but he wouldn’t say no to Galen either.
You don’t even know if he’s gay. Cam had always been pretty good at guessing. Gay or bi, judging by how comfortable Galen appeared about asking Cam home. Few people wondered about Cam’s orientation—only grandmothers and young women seemed to be oblivious. His mother knew and ignored it. Duncan had never asked. No one else seemed to care, if you didn’t count the men who came on to him. But he liked that.
He pulled on the shirt, then checked his hair in the mirror. Without product, it was even messier than usual. Well, it wasn’t as if Galen cared about how Cam looked—he’d taken him home even though he hadn’t bathed since he’d left the cheap motel two days before. Cam yawned and glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 10:00 a.m. Not all that late, really.
After washing his face, he got dressed and walked down the stairs in the pair of athletic socks Galen had left him. They slid over the wood floors, but they were warm. Max met him at the bottom of the stairs, his tail wagging in circles like a furry helicopter. As soon as Cam let go of the railing, Max jumped on him, paws on his shoulders.
Damn animal. Why did people bother with pets?
“Max! Down!”
Cam looked around for Galen. Cam expected to find him in the kitchen, but the voice came from the small
Similar Books
