27. Sam

Cameron was waiting for me on the curb when I arrived at Mix It Up. I'd had a long day at work, so I'd come straight here. He'd gotten a ride with Tristan, but my boy was currently waiting outside in the frigid January night like a crazy person.

"What are you doing out here, baby?" I asked as I approached. When I got close enough, I wrapped him into a warming hug, holding his chilled body against mine. After a long minute, I pulled away only far enough to look into his eyes. "You could've waited inside, sweet boy. I don't want you getting sick or something."

He smiled sheepishly up at me. "I missed you."

I grinned, leaning in to steal a kiss that lingered. But I didn't let it last too long—my boy was cold.

"Okay, inside. We can revisit this later."

Cameron grabbed my hand and led the way into Mix It Up for our next Daddies and Subs Club meeting. We hadn't missed one since we'd gotten together, but they'd lifted the meeting around the holiday, so it'd been a month since we'd seen the guys. I missed them.

I waved at Zander as our usual large booth came into view. "Hey, man!" I extended a hand when he stood to greet me, and he used it to pull me into a quick hug. I'd gotten to know him pretty well over the past few months, and he'd given me invaluable advice on being a Daddy. He'd been Joey's for almost a decade, so I figured the guy knew what he was doing.

Speaking of Joey, I spied him wiggling in his seat, wincing a little as Cameron asked him how their bookstore was doing. I hid a smile and eyed Zander meaningfully. When he followed my gaze, he just smirked, nodding once. He'd blistered Joey's ass recently, probably just before they came here. He'd divulged in the past that he had a slew of torture—ahem, fun—implements, but their favorite was the crop. I idly wondered which one he'd used tonight.

Cameron shifted beside me, too, and I had intimate knowledge of the implement I'd used: a flogger we'd been experimenting with lately that he seemed to love. Had to say, I didn't hate it, either.

"So, Zander, how have you been? How were your holidays?"

He smiled as he sipped the beer on the table in front of him. "It was pretty low-key, just Joey and I. But we celebrated in our own way." He wiggled his eyebrows, and I laughed just as Henry brought over Cameron's and my usual drink orders.

"Thanks, man," I offered with a smile. "How's tonight going?"

Henry grinned tiredly. "Good so far, but I'll be glad when I can go home and rest."

Zander's forehead creased. "Still no good bartenders in sight?"

Henry shook his head and sighed. "Not yet." Some glass shattered from the direction of the bar, and his head whipped around at the sound. "Sorry, gotta go."

I shook my head as he hurried away. "Poor guy. Must be super hard to find people who are good at their jobs and will stay."

Zander nodded. "That's been our experience. We can't find good help at the store to save our lives. The really good ones tend not to stick around forever. They're usually students who graduate and move on to ‘real' jobs." He rolled his eyes. "But I still love it. It's heaven working alongside the love of my life."

If I didn't feel the same way about Cameron, I might've been tempted to scoff at that. But now, I got it. "That's awesome, man. So the store's doing well?"

He nodded. "Yes. We're toying with opening a second location, actually."

My eyes shot wide. "Really?"

He grinned, pride evident in his expression. "Yeah. Joey's brilliant business brain has really sent things soaring. We might even be able to expand into other things when the time is right."

Zander and I started talking about his business, including how their holiday sales went, and being in marketing myself, I found it fascinating. We chatted until Nate and Anson showed up, followed soon after by Ethan.

After that, conversations and drinks flowed freely between us men, and I'd never felt more at home. These guys were my friends, some of the first I'd had in my life, and I found my chest squeezing in gratitude.

"So, Cameron, how's the writing going?" I overheard Joey ask, and my ears pricked. Now that I thought about it, I hadn't heard Cameron talk about his writing much since we'd gotten together. I got that we were new, but I would never want to keep him from something he loved. Was he still writing?

And what kind of boyfriend was I that I'd never thought to ask? What kind of Daddy?

"It's going okay," Cameron replied, and I really tried not to listen, but I couldn't help it. It was a little loud in here, but Cameron was sitting right next to me. "I'm just having a hard time picturing Jace's Daddy. He's . . . oh, I don't know. He's cis, and Jace is trans, of course."

I knew that Cameron only wrote relationships with no more than one trans character—at least of the books he'd released. The thought made me frown, considering something that hadn't occurred to me until now. Did he not think two trans guys should get together?

Was he not happy with us?

I shook my head, drinking my warming lager and playing with the cocktail napkin beneath it. I was being ridiculous, and I was spiraling again. I'd gotten better at reining myself in since Cameron had spanked me a few weeks ago, and I had almost zero interest in another session with the paddle.

Not tonight, anyway.

"So what's the problem?" Tristan was asking him.

"I just . . . something's off with them. I can't figure it out."

Joey patted his hand from across the table. "You will."

Cameron sighed beside me. Our legs were touching, but I felt like his mind was miles away. He got like that sometimes, and I figured it was just part of him being a writer. He lived a lot of his life in his head.

Hence the frequent spankings to get him out of it.

"Maybe." He shrugged, a quick heave of his shoulders. "It'll work itself out eventually."

Their conversation turned to more mundane topics, and I let my mind drift as I thought about what I'd heard. Cameron was a writer—that part of him was what I'd fallen in love with first. So why didn't he feel comfortable talking to me about his writing? Was it somehow too personal for him?

And why didn't I ask?

I sighed. This shouldn't be a big deal, right? I didn't need to borrow trouble, create an issue where none existed. But as Henry brought another round of drinks and the minutes passed, I grew more unsettled. Soon, the cocktail napkin in front of me had been ripped to shreds, and I still couldn't stop fidgeting.

I nudged my boy with my arm. "Cameron?"

He looked over at me. "Yes, Daddy?"

The fact that I didn't automatically smile at the honorific told me how agitated I really was. "Why don't you ever talk to me about your writing?"

Cameron blinked, his movements languid as if his rum and cokes had loosened him up but not made him drunk. "What do you mean?"

I took a quick breath. "I mean, when we were emailing, we discussed your books all the time. It's how we first started connecting. But since we got together for real, since you found out I was S.M.C., you've barely mentioned your writing at all. Are you even still writing? And why won't you talk to me about it?" My filter had apparently stopped working.

Cameron leaned in, just a little. His eyes darted around at our friends, who were doing a poor job of acting like they weren't listening. "Sam, can we talk about this later?"

I shook my head, thinking that I shouldn't have had that last drink. I had less control of myself than I liked. "I want to talk about it now. It's a big part of you, and you haven't shared it with me at all."

His face scrunched as if he was in pain, and my alcohol-addled brain didn't understand why. "Come on, Sam." He pushed at me to get out of the booth, and I obliged, sliding over and standing up. Once he was on his feet beside me, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the side door we'd used in October and out into the night. "Now, what's going on?"

I crossed my arms, gulping in the fresh air heavy with impending rain before continuing. I wasn't sure where this was coming from, but as soon as I opened my mouth, it all came spilling out. "I feel like you're holding back, Cameron. You're keeping a lot of yourself hidden from me, and I don't know why."

He gasped as the first drops of rain started to fall. "I've never held back from you, Sam."

I waved my hand in the air between us. "During sex, yeah. Which is great. I have absolutely no complaints there. But in life? We're together all the time, Cameron, but do we really talk? I ask about your day, and you say it was fine. Apart from the one time you told me about your anxiety, we don't talk about anything real aside from our sex life. Any time I try to go deeper with you, you change the subject or start making out with me. And god, I love it, I do. But Cameron, I need you to let me in. I've bared my fucking soul to you, and I feel like you're still keeping yours from me."

"I'm not! This is me, Sam." He spread his arms out wide, the rain falling more steadily now. "I'm here, aren't I?"

His words sliced through my chest. "That's all you want? To be physically here with me? I want to share my life with you, Cameron, all of it. Every. Single. Piece. But I feel like you don't want to commit."

Cameron leaned forward then, pressing his pointer finger into my bound chest as his voice rose. "I'm doing my best. I don't know what you want from me!"

"I want you!" I shouted back at him, unable to control my volume as our clothes got soaked through. "I want all of you, Cameron! I fucking love you! I told you that months ago, but you haven't even said it back!"

Water poured over Cameron's beautiful face, lit starkly by the utility lights that illuminated this alley. "God, Sam! I just need time! You can't force someone to tell you they love you."

I scoffed aloud, throwing my hands in the air. "Of course I know that. But since we got together, Cameron, you've lost your fire, your passion. Everything's seemed like rainbows and roses, but do you realize this is the first time we've fought since this same meeting back in September? Since we first kissed? You had a lot of anger, Cameron, and that doesn't just go away. You didn't even yell at me for admitting I was S.M.C., and I know that had to piss you off! I don't know why, but I think you've been suppressing it."

Cameron's eyes blazed. "How the fuck do you get off telling me how I feel? I'm trying, okay? This has been hard for me!"

I narrowed my eyes at that. Thank fuck, we were finally getting somewhere. "What's been hard?"

"This!" He waved between us, and I had to tell my heart not to break at that. "You have been so perfect, and I'm just struggling not to mess up everything."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"This! You! You have this whole image of me you've built in your head of this author who writes amazing books and is the most perfect person in the world. Do you know how much that wears on me?"

My eyes shot wide. "I don't know what you're even talking about right now!"

"No?" he shouted, spinning in the pouring rain. I could see his chest heaving. "I have to be perfect for you, don't you see that? I will never live up to your expectations otherwise!"

"Cameron," I started, my voice cracking as it softened, "what are you talking about, baby? What expectations?"

Cameron's eyes flashed as he stood stark still in the downpour, water dripping from every inch of him. "I transitioned before you, so I have to be the perfect trans man, set an example. I knew I was a boy before you knew you were a Daddy. You idolized me and my books before we even started talking. It's so much! It's . . . it's too much!"

I took a few breaths as we stared at each other, willing him to calm down. My own heart rate was slowing at his confessions. After a few extended moments, I finally spoke. "I'm so sorry, baby. Please know that I never had these expectations for you. I want you just as you are."

He was shaking his head before I even finished. "No, Sam, that's not true. I have to be perfect for you, because if I'm not, you'll—"

He cut himself off, and my irritation flared back to life. "I'll what?"

Cameron turned his back to me, muttering, "Never mind."

"No, don't do that, Cameron!" I screamed through the rain. "Don't hide from me! I'm right here in front of you, and I need you to talk to me, even if it hurts. Even if it feels like too much." I hunched over, arms clasped in front of me as I pled. As I bled. "Fight with me, baby. Show me this matters to you. That we matter. That I do."

He whipped back around, his eyes flashing through the downpour. "Goddammit, Sam! Of course you matter. I've been trying to keep you happy this whole time—that's what this has all been about!"

I lurched forward until I stood only a foot from him. Then I pointed at his chest, pressing the tip of my finger into his soaked shirt like he'd just done to me. "Fuck that shit."

His mouth fell open as he gasped. "Fine! If that's what you fucking want, Sam, here it is. If I'm not perfect, you'll leave!" he bellowed, making me take a step back. "That's what everyone does! If I'm not the perfect boy, you'll leave and find someone better! If I'm not better than everyone else, if I don't give you everything you want, you'll break up with me. Don't you see? That's what all men do. They leave. They . . ." His breath caught, and his next words were quiet. "They break my heart."

"Oh, baby," I started, stepping toward him. He tensed, so I stopped short of touching him. "Cameron, love, I'm not leaving."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You say that for now."

This time, I was shaking my head before he finished. "I say it for always. Cameron, I may have fallen in love with a version of you that only existed in my head, but now? I've fallen in love with the real you. Every piece of you is perfect for me. Your imperfections make you human, baby, just like me. And I love you more because of them."

He blinked the rain out of his eyes, but I could see him processing my words. I could also see he wasn't accepting them.

When he didn't respond, I stretched out my hands between us. "How can I make you believe me?"

Water dripped down his face, and I wished more than anything that he'd let me pull him close, hold him until his every insecurity fell away.

But life didn't work like that, and I sure as hell knew anxiety didn't work like that, either.

His shoulders slumped, and my heart fell with them. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know how to get past this. I want to let you in, I do. I just don't . . ." He choked back a sob. "I don't know how I can. I don't know what to do."

I reached a hand out toward him again, stopping inches from his shoulder, my eyes asking for permission to touch him. When his gaze flicked to mine, the pain and hurt and uncertainty in his eyes nearly broke me, and I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, pulling his forehead to mine. He didn't resist, but his energy told me he was still tortured. "Listen, Cameron. I'm not going anywhere. I know you've been hurt before, badly. Your dad, Victor, that dick, Jason—you didn't deserve any of that. But I know it leaves scars. I know you can't just talk yourself out of trauma like that. That's what my therapist tells me, anyway."

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, and I let a small one turn up my lips.

"Anxiety doesn't go away overnight. Sometimes it never does. But, baby, I'm here. I'm always going to be here. I've fallen so completely in love with you—with all your beautiful imperfections—that I can't go anywhere else. You're my haven, my heart, my home. You're everything I never knew I needed." I pulled back to look into his beautiful eyes. Despite the rain, I could tell he was crying. "I'm not leaving you, baby. Ever. You're it for me."

"You can't know that, Sam," he offered, but it sounded half-hearted. In that moment, I knew he wanted to believe me.

I nodded. "I can. Whatever you need, I'm here. If you need it, I'll give you some space. But believe me—I'm not going anywhere. Until you order me away, I'm yours."

He started sobbing then, and, unable to hold back any longer, I pulled him into my soaked chest. His arms wrapped around me, tentatively at first then so strongly I could barely breathe. But I wasn't complaining. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

After several long minutes, Cameron's sobs quieted, and he pulled back to find my gaze. "Sam, I . . . I don't trust easily."

I nodded, kissing his temple. "I know, baby."

"You know I've been hurt before. Like you said, it's left scars."

"I know that, too."

He nodded, swallowing once. Then he took a deep breath, and something inside me squeezed. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

My brow furrowed. I hadn't expected this, and I wasn't sure I was going to like where this was going. "Any of what to happen?"

He stepped out of my embrace, and I felt the loss instantly. "This. Us." He scrubbed a hand over his wet hair, matting it to his head. I was sure mine was just as bad—but he was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. "I used to do this thing, imagine my perfect man. I knew what he looked like, what he liked and disliked, everything about him. I imagined every detail of our life together."

My eyes narrowed again. There was something he wasn't saying, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. The beer had dampened my senses for sure.

Cameron kept going. "Call it a writer's curse, I guess. I had a plan for my life, Sam, but then you showed up. You threw me, and now my plan has been thrown out the window. And that scares me."

My eyes widened as I put the pieces together. I took a protective step back. "You imagined yourself with a cis guy, didn't you?"

He paused before nodding once, his expression contrite. "I did. But that was before I met you, Sam. You've turned everything on its head."

I crossed my arms, a terrible feeling of inadequacy trickling through my veins. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because, Sam, I want you to know how much you've changed me. I don't want that anymore—it would've never been right for me. Because that elusive fantasy man wouldn't have been you."

I just stared at him. "What are you saying?"

Cameron smiled for the first time since we'd come outside and gotten drenched in the rain. "That I'm in this, too. I want you, Sam, more than I ever thought possible. It's just that . . . sometimes the anxiety gets loud, and I don't know what to do."

I eyed him, pleasant and uncomfortable emotions coalescing inside me until I was a jumbled mess. I didn't know how to feel.

Over the past year, I'd learned that two or more seemingly conflicting things could be true at the same time—I had to make space for the "both/and." I could be elated he'd chosen me but hurt that he still hadn't told me he loved me. I could want to jump for joy that he said he wanted me while empathizing with his anxiety and being angry and insecure that he'd always wanted a cis man with a bio dick who could give him everything he wanted in bed.

All of the above were true, and that was a hard pill to swallow. But I'd grown over this past year, too. Both intentionally and without seemingly any effort at all, I'd become the man I was meant to be. I'd become the Daddy I was meant to be. I was confident, and I was trying to be brave.

So I knew I could hold space for all these feelings. I could push through the hard emotions and sit with them, not shove them down. I could feel them. I could let them guide me to my truth.

That didn't make me any less of a man—it made me a better one.

"Cameron, baby, I'm so sorry you're anxious about this, about us." I took a breath. "But I need some time to process all this, okay?"

His eyes flicked up to mine, questions in them.

"I . . ." How the hell did I explain all this?

Then it hit me, and I sighed, because I knew how. And it was gonna suck.

"Cameron, I love you. All of you. And I'm in this, too. But I think we need some time apart. This . . . it hurts, baby. It hurts to know I'm not what you've always wanted."

"But—"

I waved my hand to cut him off. "I know. You said that's not what you want anymore, and I believe you. I'm just trying to be honest, tell you how I feel. I don't want us to hide anymore, Cameron. I've had a bad habit of stuffing things down, maybe even putting you on a pedestal, but I don't want that with you. And honestly, what I'm feeling right now sucks."

His face fell, but he nodded slowly.

"If you're not ready to tell me you love me—if you're not sure—that's totally fine. I get it. But I can't pretend it doesn't hurt any longer."

"Sam, I—"

"Please don't say it now, Cameron. Please don't. I'll forever question if you said it because I asked you to." I sighed again, running my hand through my drenched head of hair then scrubbing it down my face to try to dry it off. I knew it was a useless action, as the downpour hadn't let up, but I felt like I had to do something. "Just give me a little time, okay? Let me process all this."

His bottom lip quivered, and I almost lost my nerve. Questions flew through my head, making me wonder if I was making the right decision.

But god knew I wasn't perfect, and sometimes life was just about making the best decision I could in the moment and hoping everything would eventually work out.

Which made me think of something else I needed to say. Something he needed to understand. "Please know, Cameron, everything I told you tonight is true. I'm not going anywhere. You're it for me, if you'll have me. And I think it's up to you to decide if you will." I stepped forward, pressed a firm kiss to his forehead as the pain squeezed my eyes shut, then did the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life and took a step back, away from him. "When you decide, let me know."

Then I turned and walked up the alley, leaving a soaked Cameron standing in the rain.

Holding my battered, broken, and hopeful heart.