Page 114 of The Leaving Kind

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I left when my parents died. I fled the war when my friend died. I left Delaware when my girlfriend stole all of my money. I should leave Pennsylvania before this falls over. Just get it done.”

“Or you could stay and let the people who love you help you.”

Tired—beyond tired, but unable to express it succinctly, Cam plucked the whiskey bottle from between Victor’s feet and took a swallow. “I sit out here sometimes, on a good day. Birds chatting to each other, squirrels playing chase across the lawn. The creek all happy. The grass is super green because I mowed it and I can smell it. It’s warm and beautiful, you know? And I lie out here on my lounger, and I think about all the people dying of starvation and disease. The people murdered because of what they believe in or who they love. And it fucking hurts. That I’m here and whole.”

Sensibly, Victor remained quiet. Or maybe he simply didn’t have the right words.

Regardless, Cam rolled on, “Then I get this dog, a dog I do not want, and I help her and it felt pretty good to know she’d lived because I picked her up.” A pressure bubble of emotion was swelling beneath his breastbone. “And now she’s gone, and it’s like ... She’s a dog, Vic. Why am I so cut up about a fucking dog?”

Tears rolled down Victor’s cheeks. “Because you loved her, and because the person you’d come to rely on to be there for you wasn’t there to hold on to while you let go.”

Cam drew in a sharp and painful breath against the third sob building in his chest. It was getting difficult not to give in, and he wasn’t sure why he was fighting so hard. Maybe because Victor was crying enough for the both of them, which sucked. Victor didn’t need to be crying. He had enough sadness of his own to deal with.

“I’m sorry,” Cam whispered.

Victor blubbered quietly and waved. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“No, I did. I absolutely did. I have been so selfish.”

“You’re not selfish.”

“Oh, I am. But let’s not make this about me. I’m here for you. I’m here because I care, Cameron. I’m sorry you’ve lost so much, but the one thing you haven’t lost? You. You’re an incredible person. A man who knows how to human on a level the rest of us only aspire to. You give and give and give. When people happen to you, you give them your all. You’re beautiful. So beautiful. And it hurts to see you so low, to think of you not believing in yourself enough to grow a business that means so much. To do what you’re good at and have others support you.”

The back of Cam’s scalp prickled.

“Jorge knows who you are,” Victor continued. “He’s lucky to have you as a partner. I know this because I’m lucky to have you, and I sincerely regret my attempts to push you away. I was secretly glad that I appeared to be failing.” Vic swiped at his tears. “So, if you want to know why I’m here, that’s it. Not so much because you lost Honey or because Jorge asked me to come. But because I am not ready to let you go. I have been waiting for someone like you. And the only way I’ll leave now is if you ask me to.”

It would be easy to pull Victor into his arms and believe that all that needed to be said had been said. That Victor’s little speech could seal the wounds of the past thirty years. But if the movies Cam had watched on the nights that he couldn’t sleep had taught him anything, it was that crying and hugging didn’t fix shit, no matter how good it felt.

He missed the feeling of being close to someone, though. Had missed falling asleep next to Victor and waking up beside him. The sex in between, yes, but also the small moments. Bumping for room in front of the bathroom mirror. That they could piss in front of each other without being embarrassed. That he knew what Victor liked to eat and the sound he made when something tasted good. And just talking. Sharing.

He’d never had a relationship with someone where he could hang out and talk—mostly because he hadn’t encouraged it. Except with Donna. He’d tried there, he really had. Now he could see all he hadn’t back then. She’d been the Cam in that relationship. There for a good time, not a long time. Oh, and the money.

All Victor had ever wanted was his company. How had they ended up here?

“Why did you push me away?” Cam asked.

Victor swallowed audibly and reached across the space. He wrapped his hand around Cam’s and eased the whiskey bottle out of his fingers. Cam let it go. Victor studied the bottle for a few seconds, sighed, then put it down by his feet.

“I think we’ve had enough.”

Agreed. Cam remained silent, though. He didn’t want to distract Victor from the question.

Finally, Victor met his gaze. “I pushed you away because the last person I put on canvas or paper with so much of myself, with all I felt, with love for every little line, was my father.”

A small frown pulled at Cam’s forehead.

“I told you I didn’t know who my biological father was,” Victor continued, “but that I always suspected it was Sunshine. We were alike in so many ways, but most especially our moods. Though he had a much harder time than I have ever had. His highs were manic, his lows so far down, he seemed to sink under the ground.”

Victor paused for breath and his eyes glistened again. “Sunshine took his own life when I was twenty-seven, and it changed me fundamentally. I promptly fell out of love with the man I was dating, moved home, and asked my best friend to have babies with me.” He reached out a hand, and Cam took it. “I haven’t really risked my heart since. Not so much because someone I loved died, or took himself away, but ...” His voice lowered. “I think I feared I might do the same one day.” He squeezed Cam’s fingers. Exhaled. “The thing is, it’s a baseless fear—or not entirely baseless. I’ve never wanted to die, not even when I’m so low all I can do is breathe. I simply want to not move for a while.”

Victor eyed the whiskey bottle.

“You seemed pretty broken up over Tholo,” Cam said.

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