Page 115 of The Leaving Kind

“He embarrassed me. I was pissed off, tired, and my work wasn’t going well. And I do like to put on a show now and again. Mostly, though, he was my excuse to wallow for a while. But I didn’t stay down because you appeared. And when I tried to push you away, you didn’t go.” Victor squeezed his fingers again. “Anyone who truly knows you would know that would never work. You are not the man who leaves, Cameron. You are the man who stays, no matter what.”

Tears beaded Cam’s lashes. “I left after my parents died. I didn’t stay to watch Rebecca die.”

“You were looking after yourself, both times. When your parents died, you reacted by signing up to defend everyone else. And exactly how far away were you when your sister passed away?”

“I was down in Delaware. Why?”

“Not far, then, and you’re not going to leave now. No one is leaving. You’re going to stay here and continue building your business with Jorge. And you’re going to let me help you.”

Cam shook his head. “How?”

“By loving you. Let me love you, Cameron. Let yourself love me in return.”

At this juncture, his late-night movie binges let him down. Declarations of love did not come with jagged, tearing pains. They shouldn’t hurt like this. Cam heard himself gasping, and then Victor was beside him, one hand warm against his back and moving in slow circles.

“Just breathe. In and out.”

Had Victor said that? Or had he whispered it to himself?

Either way, it was good advice. Cam breathed. In and then out. And he leaned against Victor’s side, trusting the slimmer man to take his weight. Victor pulled him close, and they breathed together. In and out. Tears tracked down Cam’s cheeks. Victor’s breaths were wet.

“This is way too dramatic,” Cam managed.

Victor chuckled. “It is, isn’t it? One out of ten, would not recommend.”

Laughter bubbled upward. Fighting against it hurt, so Cam let it out. “Great, so our relationship is starting off with a bad rating. Good going, Vic.”

“What would you give it?”

Cam waited for his breath to calm, then considered. “Five out of ten, needs work.”

“That I can agree with.” Vic touched the side of his face. “At the risk of sounding altogether corny, do you want to work on it with me?”

Cam turned to face him, found he was too close, but couldn’t bear the idea of moving away. He closed his eyes and rested their foreheads together. “Yes.”

Panic threatened again. He pushed it back.

“I can feel our score rising already.”

Choked amusement pushed past Cam’s lips. “If that’s a euphemism, I’m done.”

Victor laughed. “No, but I’m going to remember that for another time.”

Cam angled his chin forward so he could touch his lips to Victor’s. “I don’t know if I can say it and not spiral. Or laugh. Or start sobbing.”

“We have plenty of time. Not going anywhere, remember?”

“Thank you for coming over.”

“All Jorge’s doing.”

“Not really.”

“We’ll thank him later.” Victor laced their fingers together. “Right now, I want to take you upstairs and push you through a shower. You smell like me after communion with the wine rack. Then I’m taking you to bed.”

Feeling strangely pliant, Cam let himself be lifted away from the lounger. “Okay.”

“Will you make love to me in the morning?”