by May Archer
Cain’s eyes widened. Poet-philosopher Damon was a new wrinkle, and fuck. He would never get tired of learning every facet of this man.
“The things your dad did, whatever his reasons, they were awful. The Seavers are gone, Bas and Cam lost their parents. There’s nothing we can do to change that, no way he, or anyone else can ever make it right. But what we do from here, how we go on, the beginning we make from it… that’s up to us.”
He met Cain’s eyes. “Both of us have had some pretty shit luck in the past, though I can say for sure my luck has changed since I met you.” He brushed the hair from Cain’s eyes. “I don’t know what is going to happen next. But I know that whatever the future holds, I want you with me. This is forever.”
Cain swallowed and nodded, pressing his lips to Damon’s with a promise in his kiss.
And later that day, when little Molly pushed Uncle Damon and Cain together to take a picture, no one had to remind him to smile, or to look happy. Cain had almost forgotten how to be anything else.
Chapter 21
One Week Later.
“I’m gay. It’s as simple as that. And while that fact in no way defines me, it’s also not something I ever intend to hide again.”
Cam Seaver looked up from his iPad, where he’d been reading the Herald article by Gary North that had gone viral in the hours since its release. Slim and lanky as ever, dark hair mussed and blue eyes serious, he nodded approvingly across the table at Cain, who was currently tucked against Damon’s side in Drew’s sunny kitchen. “This is fucking awesome, Cain. You’re a rebel.”
The impromptu breakfast gathering had been Drew’s idea - a chance for their unlikely band of friends - friends who’d become something like family - to regroup, discuss all the things they’d learned from the senator, and decide on the next steps they needed to take. But first, Drew had insisted, they needed to have breakfast and reconnect - which seemed to be shorthand for teasing Cain by reading his interview out loud. For once Damon was okay with waiting, at least for a little while.
Cain squirmed in embarrassment at Cam’s praise, and Damon smiled as he pulled his man even tighter. “It’s not rebellious or awesome. Just… true,” Cain demurred.
“Yeah, well. Sometimes admitting the truth is the hardest thing a person can do,” Drew said from the other side of the kitchen, where he was making coffee and something that smelled like pumpkin and cinnamon. Damon looked at him curiously. Drew’s voice had a hard edge, and his body was imbued with a tension that was totally incongruous with his baggy sweats and perfect brown hair, the bright sunshine floating in through the French doors and the homey smells in the air.
At the head of the table, Bas Seaver pushed his chair back with a loud screech and stood, throwing open the door behind him and letting in the chilly autumn breeze.
“I need some air,” he said, stepping outside.
Cam watched his brother worriedly as he walked out the door, but when he moved as if to stand and follow, his boyfriend leaned over and nudged his arm, shaking his head slightly. “Keep reading,” Cort urged.
Cam gave one last glance at Sebastian, then returned his attention to the article.
“Cain Shaw’s comments are not what one would expect from the twenty-something son of a politician best known for his conservative, and some would say outright discriminatory, views on LGBTQ rights. Until recently, Cain was a highly visible if silent part of Emmett Shaw’s campaign fundraising machine, a handsome, intelligent presence that appealed to young women, inspired young men, and gained near-universal parental approval. In other words, Cain Shaw was precisely the type of guy your parents would want you to bring home for dinner.”
“Fucker wanted to bring you home for dinner,” Damon muttered under his breath. “Wanted to eat you for dinner, more like.”
“Oh, shush,” Cain said, elbowing Damon lightly. “He did not. He’s a professional.”
“A professional who tried to give you his personal phone number three times even though you were sitting right next to me.”
“You mean even though you’d practically pulled me onto your lap when we sat down with him?”
Cort laughed out loud and wrapped his arm around Cam, drawing the smaller man close to his side. “I feel you, brother.”
Damon rolled his eyes. It hadn’t been like that. He wasn’t jealous. He was just… invested in making his relationship with Cain clear to all observers.
Okay, so maybe it was the same thing.
“Cain blushes when he hears this,” Cam continued, and they all turned to smirk at Cain, who was a deep shade of pink once again at hearing this read. “He refuses to comment, except to say that he hopes he’s far more inspiring to young men in his new role, that of an out-and-proud man who is already fundraising on behalf of social justice groups while he continues his law degree.”
“Badass,” Cam said again, shaking his head.
“Not badass. They make it sound like this whole big thing, when I just started organizing one Christmas fundraiser for a nonprofit that provides scholarships to LGBTQ youth.” Cain shrugged. “It felt right. Important. And organizing is something I’m good at. The law degree part is still up in the air.”
Damon squeezed Cain’s shoulder. “You have time,” he reminded his man. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
Cain looked up at him and smiled.
“There is a quiet assurance to Cain, a maturity that sits well on his strong shoulders. He claims he’s grown up much in recent weeks, and attributes that growth to the new man in his life, pilot Damon Fitzpatrick. The mysterious, but undeniably handsome Fitzpatrick, nearly seventeen years Cain’s senior, has a rather dramatic past of his own.
“Oh, this is even better,” Cort laughed, green eyes dancing as he ran a hand through his dark-blond hair. “The mysterious and undeniably handsome Fitzpatrick. From now on, that’s what I’m going to call you. You know my brother? The mysterious and undeniably handsome Damon Fitzpatrick?”
“Fuck off,” Damon said mildly.
Drew brought a tray of coffee and cups to the table, and Cort immediately poured himself a cup.
“You sure the reporter had a thing for Cain?” Drew asked as he returned to the kitchen. “Because I could make a case that he’s definitely a Damon fan.”
“Right? He was totally buttering you up for a threesome,” Cam said confidently, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe it can be the follow-up article. I’d read it.”
Cort, who had just taken his first sip of coffee, started to choke, and Cam reached over to pound him on the back.
“You okay, babe?”
“Jesus, Cammy,” Cort coughed. “Warn your boyfriend before you start going all porn-fantasy on his brother.”
“Cammy!” Drew crowed from the kitchen, where he was plating muffins or something. “The nickname lives on!”
Damon vaguely recalled that Drew had invented that nickname for Cam… and that Cam loathed it. He stifled a smile.
“No. It doesn’t live on,” Cam said flatly. “It never lived in the first place.”
“The man’s got a death wish, taunting you that way, bro,” Sebastian said from the doorway. He resumed his seat, carefully not looking at Drew.
“No shit,” Cam groused, giving his boyfriend a speaking glance. “I respond to Cam, Camden, Mr. Seaver, and occasionally Badass.”
Cort grinned and pulled Cam closer. “Fine, then. Camden Seaver, my love, badass owner of my heart, please continue.”
Cam rolled his eyes, even as he curled himself into Cort’s side, and Damon found himself grinning. He’d been initially pretty skeptical of Cam Seaver, wondering how a relationship between the rich heir of the Seaver Tech fortune, and Damon’s foster-brother Cort, could possibly work. Nowadays, though, Damon was all glass-half-full when it came to seemingly impossible relationships.
Cain’s hand found his thigh under the table and squeezed. Little wonder what had caused that change.
“Fitzpatrick, as some careful readers may
remember, was the pilot at the controls during the tragic plane crash that killed tech genius Levi Seaver, his wife Charlotte, and close family friend Amy McMann over a year ago. Fitzpatrick was presumed dead, as well, and until recently was believed to have caused the crash through negligence. However, the investigation into the crash has been reopened this week in light of new evidence that seems likely to clear Fitzpatrick of any wrongdoing in the incident.”
Cam looked up as Drew set a plate of pumpkin muffins on the table and took his seat. “That was thanks to my badass boyfriend and his FBI connections. Just wanted to note that since Gary here neglected to mention it.” He smirked.
“I appreciate the sentiment, badass,” Cort said gravely. “But if you’re trying to get me into the three-way with Cain, Damon, and the reporter, that’s a no.”
Cam dissolved into laughter. “Good,” he said. He turned his attention back to the article, and his smile softened into something smaller, sadder.
“Mr. Shaw says, ‘Damon and I don’t want to comment on anything related to the crash, except to say that we are extremely thankful Damon’s name will be cleared, and we continue to mourn the loss of the Seavers and Amy McMann, who were and always will be, much loved and missed.’”
Bas ran his hands through his hair, his gaze fixed on the table. Drew’s hand hovered in the air, like he wanted to reach out and touch Bas, but he dropped his hand to his lap instead.
Cam cleared his throat and set the tablet down on the table. He ran a hand through his hair, causing the cowlicks to stick up even more prominently and making him look incredibly young. “Thanks, Cain,” he whispered. “For remembering them.”
“Of course,” Cain said softly. “Always.”
Bas inhaled deeply, like he was mentally preparing himself for something, and sat up straight. “Okay, so now tell us the un-PG-rated version.”
Cain straightened in his chair, as well, and looked at Damon. “Well…”
“Just spit it out,” Drew said. “We already started looking into the businesses you sent us. Bas is doing it under the table, low-key, so it can’t be traced back to us, so it’s taking a while. But I get the feeling you two know have a pretty good idea who we’re going to find on the other end of this.”
“What do you know about SILA?” Damon asked. Sudden silence reigned.
Bas’s eyes widened, Drew blinked, Cam looked around in confusion, but Cort flushed red. “The Russian criminal organization?”
“Yeah,” Damon said heavily. “That’s the one.”
He explained everything the senator had told them about his own involvement with SILA, including the fact that Levi Seaver and Jonathan McMann, Drew’s father, had been in on it from the beginning.
“I don’t believe it. He’s lying. He has to be,” Cam said, staring around the table like he wanted someone to agree with him.
No one did.
“Bas?” Cam pressed. “You know Dad. He would never.”
Bas bent his neck back and stared at the ceiling for a long inhale and exhale. “I don’t know about never, Cam.” He dropped his gaze to Cam’s. “It kind of explains some things I haven’t understood for a long time. Where some money came from. Some projects Dad was working on that never seemed to materialize. Fuck.” He braced his elbow on the table and dropped his forehead to his hand.
“My dad, too,” Drew whispered. “He knew all along?”
Damon and Cain exchanged a glance.
“That’s what my father said,” Cain agreed. “And I don’t think he was lying at that point. I don’t know why he would. But he did say your father was against it from the start.”
“Probably worried it would affect his bottom line,” Drew fumed. “Or maybe that his new girlfriend would find out.”
Damon recalled Drew’s parents had divorced almost immediately after the plane crash, their relationship unable to withstand the trauma of losing their daughter, Amy, so unexpectedly. He hadn’t realized there had been problems long before that.
“There’s more,” Damon added. “Cain talked to his father earlier this week, gave him a heads-up the interview would be running.”
“I’m sure Uncle Shaw was thrilled,” Bas said wryly.
“We don’t call him that anymore,” Cam snapped, and Damon felt a tug of sympathy. The three families had been so close for so long, and the betrayal ran deep.
“He actually didn’t have a lot to say about the interview. Probably knew it was too late for that. But he told us he’d talked to his Russian… colleagues,” Cain said bitterly. “Apparently the guys shooting at us were part of some faction inside the group, not authorized by the Stornoviches, who are supposed to be in charge. The shooting was part of some crazy internal power-grab. Like who the fuck knew that was a thing?” He shook his head.
“The name of the group means power, babe,” Damon said softly, pressing a kiss to Cain’s head. “Makes sense that they don’t do shit in an orderly, democratic way. They do stupid shit like trying to compromise the senator so they can oust the Stornoviches.”
“So what the hell does that mean for us?” Bas demanded. “For your sister and Molly, and everyone else who might be on the radar?”
“It means the heat is off, at least for now,” Damon said. “The Stornoviches need the senator in their corner if they want to stay in power, and the senator made it clear we are all under his protection.”
He could hear the bitterness in his own voice, and made no apologies for it. He fucking hated that he had to feel beholden to Emmett Shaw for anything, not after all the man had done. But for Cain’s sake, for his family’s sake, he accepted it.
“Adam Stornovich is trying to consolidate his power inside SILA,” Cain expounded. “He’s got enough trouble handling things inside his organization, so he accepted that he and my father have arrived at a bit of a stalemate. The senator has information on SILA, and SILA has plenty of information on him.”
“Another cold war,” Drew said mockingly.
“So, what do we do?” Cam whispered. “We can’t just leave things like that. Who knows when they’ll get their shit sorted and decide we’re lose ends that need tying up? And we need to make them pay for what happened to our parents, to Amy. What do we do?”
Cort, who had been locked in silent thought for a moment, tightened his hold on Cam.
“You do nothing, babe. You run your company, you live your life.”
“No! No. You should know better than to try to push me out when—”
“He’s right, Cam,” Bas said. He had the shell-shocked look of a man who’d just awoken in an alternate-reality. “We’re going to get these bastards and bring them down, but in the meantime, you still have a company to run.”
Cam frowned. “I do? I thought we did.”
“We do, then,” Bas agreed. “But this is something I can help with. Financials, finding a needle in a haystack, those are things I’m good at. I have the contacts, I have the tech…”
“Hell no. We should leave this to the professionals,” Cort said firmly. “This is dangerous shit you’re talking about, Sebastian. If you get caught, you won’t be arrested, you’ll be killed.”
“Like you left it to the professionals when your family was threatened?” Bas retorted, one eyebrow raised.
Cort looked at Damon and sighed. “That was different,” he protested, but it was clear even he had trouble believing it.
“This is on me,” Bas said. “I overlooked this stuff - the inconsistencies, the discrepancies - for way too long. I need to put a stop to it.”
Drew snorted and shook his head. “So you’re charging off to the rescue once again. God forbid you sit still for a minute, right? God forbid you actually deal with your life. When you need a distraction, any vendetta will do!”
“Bullshit,” Bas said, looking anywhere but at Drew. “This isn’t a distraction. This is about assuring the safety of our family.”
“Oh really? Then I’ll be happy to help you with your investigation, since compilin
g evidence is kinda my specialty, along with keeping your ass out of jail while you’re busy running after bad guys. For the good of our family.”
Bas’s jaw hardened.
“I think it’s a really good idea,” Cam said firmly. “Drew’s got a level head, and— “
“Drew is fucking clueless,” Bas said, glaring at the man Damon thought had always been his best friend.
Drew flushed. “That’s the offer, Sebastian. I help you, or I turn over all the information we’ve learned to the FBI, including the fact that you’re attempting to investigate this yourself.”
“You wouldn’t,” Bas whispered, meeting Drew’s eyes for the first time.
“Try me.”
Tension settled around the table, Cam and Cort, Cain and Damon, all exchanging glances, while Drew and Bas seemed locked in a staring contest.
“She was my sister, Sebastian,” Drew said, and Sebastian finally broke.
“Fine,” he said, looking away. “Whatever.”
“I think my brother means, Thank you for your generous offer, Drew, and even though you’re a little bit of a control freak, I’m glad that Cam will feel reassured knowing you’re going to be keeping me safe,” Cam said.
His softly-spoken words broke the tension. Damon snorted, Cort laughed outright, and Drew and Bas finally stopped glaring.
“You got all that from my ‘fine’?” Bas said, grabbing a muffin from the plate. His shoulders still carried tension, and Damon felt a kinship with the guy. Bas looked like a man who thought he’d finally found a purpose, a cause to devote himself to, a hill to die on.
Damon had felt that way, until Cain had given him something to live for, instead.
He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than a lifetime with the man at his side. The path that had gotten them here had been long and winding, but he hoped the road ahead of them was just as long. With Cain by his side forever, he was happy to take the long way.
