Page 49 of Stray for You

And then there are the photos of his mom.

He keeps one on the IKEA shelf in his bedroom, a photo of him and his mother at Mount Rushmore, presumably when they drove out here for their big move. There’s another in the living room, however, and this one is old enough that it’s faded around the edges. Cameron is a little kid holding a guitar way too large for his tiny frame, and his mother is showing him how to pluck the strings.

My heart swells like it might burst my chest open. If there’s one thing we’ve always had in common, it’s being mama’s boys. I understand this love, this connection. Even when we were younger, I understood why he regarded me with such suspicion. I never knew my dad, but he knew his, and the guy left in a really shitty way. He wanted to make sure his mom didn’t get hurt again so soon after that whole mess, and I was a wild factor. At least I’ve started to earn my way into his good graces.

There isn’t much else to find in Cameron’s apartment, and I’m going to go crazy if I keep myself cooped up all day, so I scoop up the key he left out for me on the counter, throw on my shoes and head down the stairs and outside.

Cameron was right. It’s a gorgeous day. Despite Seattle settling firmly into fall, it isn’t raining. It isn’t even gray. Someone alert the press. It’s October and the sun is shining. A mild breeze kicks up, stirring my hair and keeping me cool in my hoodie as I walk up the road and toward that grocery store we went to yesterday. I figure if I have nothing better to do, Imight as well buy some stuff for dinner and see if I can surprise him with a meal. That would be a thing he liked, right? Plus, he cooked for me yesterday. It’s only fair I try to return the favor when I’ve got nothing better to do.

I grab a basket by the entrance to the supermarket and wander around aimlessly. I’m not sure what I want to make, but I’ll let inspiration strike as and when it will.

I’m in the pasta aisle staring at the boxes and wondering if I could make a noodle dish that’s significantly different from what we ate yesterday when someone calls my name.

I spin around, nearly jumping out of my skin — because who the hell in Nowhere, Washington, could possibly know me? Then a huge smile cracks my face open.

“Miss Ortiz?” I say.

Cameron’s mom strides up to me with her grocery basket dangling from her arm. “Oh my God. Julian. It really is you. I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”

I have no idea what to tell her. I can’t be here for a conference. I’m too far from Seattle. I settle for a half-truth. “Just visiting.”

She shakes her head, but luckily she seems too surprised to bother digging into my insufficient response.

“That’s amazing. I can’t believe we’re running into each other in a little town like this. What are the odds?” she says.

Heh. Yeah. What are the odds, indeed?

“You live here?” I ask, trying to shift the focus onto her.

“Yes, right down the road,” she says. “My cousin has a house here, and when Cameron and I moved out here, we stayed with her at first. Then Cameron moved out on his own. Does he know you’re in town? You should reach out. Or I could let him know.”

A pang strikes my chest. I was dancing around this topic because I wasn’t sure, but of course Cameron didn’t tell her about me being here. Of course he kept it a secret from his mother, whom he’s so close to and so protective over. I mightunderstand his reasons, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Does he really believe I’m some kind of threat to this woman’s happiness? Does he think she’d be angry if she found out we were spending the week together?

“Is everything alright?” Miss Ortiz asks.

I shake myself, slapping on a smile. Luckily, I’ve got plenty of practice at being charming regardless of my true feelings.

“Yeah, of course,” I say. “Jet lag. I only got here yesterday. I’m trying to make myself eat, but the time difference has my stomach all messed up.”

I lift my empty shopping basket as though in explanation.

“It’s a big trip,” Miss Ortiz says. “You should join us for dinner while you’re here. I make Cameron come over once a week for a family meal. I’m sure you’d be welcome to join us. You boys were always friends, even back in high school.”

Even with all my practice at faking it, it’s getting harder and harder to cling to the smile that wants to drop off my lips. Friends. Right. If only she knew the half of it.

Actually, Miss Ortiz, I’ve been hopelessly pining after your son since the day I met him, but I seem to inspire nothing but hatred in him, which I guess is why he’s hiding me from you.

What would Cameron think if he knew about this chance encounter? I have to make sure he doesn’t find out, but that requires Miss Ortiz not saying anything to him.

“Actually, I’m only here for a couple days,” I lie smoothly. “It’s a work acquaintance kind of thing, so I can’t stay long. In and out, you know how it is.”

“That’s a shame,” Miss Ortiz says, and holy shit, I think she actually means that. “Well, if you find yourself in the area again, let me or Cameron know. I bet he’d even give you a place to stay if you asked.”

“Yeah, I’ll … I’ll ask him about crashing on his couch next time. Save on the hotel fees.”

Miss Ortiz wishes me well and heads off, but I have to stand there in the pasta aisle for several minutes after that, replaying the lies I sold her to avoid telling her that I’m spending the week in her son’s bed. Lies I sold her because evidently Cameron is ashamed of this.

No matter how many sweet good morning kisses we share, at the end of the day, I’m a secret he prefers to keep tucked away in the dark.

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