Page 62 of Born Daddy

Mitch grunted and stomped out the door, Lenny following. When Lenny reached the threshold, he turned and regarded Rogan with a sheepish expression.

“I’m sorry, Rogan, I really am. I had no idea he was going to do that, man, I swear. I thought if I brought him by you guys would work things out.” Lenny clutched at his hair again. “I swear, I didn’t know. We go way back, I never thought—”

“Lenny!” Rogan interjected. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean for things to go this way.” Rogan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Neither did I.”

“Look, he was wrong, dude.” Lenny’s faced squinched up as if he might start to cry. “He shouldn’t have called you those awful names.” Lenny’s gaze turned to Tate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here, I swear.”

Tate tried to answer Lenny, but the words got stuck in his throat. He didn’t blame him. Lenny seemed like a sincere friend who’d found himself stuck in the middle of a bad situation. Rogan responded for him.

“Please, Lenny. I need to be alone with my boy right now. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Tate almost swallowed his tongue at how casually Rogan had referred to him as his boy in front of Lenny.

Lenny didn’t seem to react to that morsel of info, but Tate thought the guy might be as shell-shocked by the fight as he was, so hadn’t fully processed what Rogan said.

“Sure, sure.” Lenny nodded. “Tomorrow.” He was almost all the way out of the apartment when he paused and glanced over his shoulder again. “Sorry.”

Tate felt bad for him. Rogan made his way to the door then closed and locked it with a heavy sigh. Tate lowered his head in shame, mortified that he was the reason for a rift between the two men—yet another friend Rogan had lost so soon on the heels of Cam’s death.

That’s when the tears came and he could no longer hold back, big hiccupping sobs breaking free. He covered his face with his hands again, terrified of what would happen next. As much as Rogan might care about him, Tate had only been a brief part of his life so far. Letting him go was not only the right thing for Rogan to do, it wouldn’t be all that difficult.

Warm, strong arms wrapped around him, but Tate stiffened. He didn’t want to grab hold of Rogan, cling to him in desperation out of the fear he would hurt him more after Mitch’s pummeling.

“Are you angry with me, sweetheart?”

Tate frowned, confusion taking hold. He inhaled several shuddering breaths in an attempt to slow down his crying enough to answer. Tate peered up at Rogan through blurry, water-filled eyes.

“N-no. Are y-you angry with me?”

Rogan shook his head, brushing his hands up and down Tate’s back in a soothing motion. “Of course not. But you’re very tense, like you don’t want me to touch you.” Rogan’s eyes held a glimmer that surprised Tate. “Not that I blame you after what Mitch almost did.” His eyes filled with more tears, until one escaped and trailed down his cheek. “If I was even one minute later getting home…”

Tate cupped Rogan’s cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the lone tear. “But you weren’t, and I’m totally okay because of you.” He furrowed his brow. “Then you got hurt because of me. I didn’t want to hold you back in case I made things worse than I already have.” He lowered his hand, shame overtaking him once more.

“Hey, let’s both stop blaming ourselves for something neither of us caused.” Rogan reached down to grasp Tate’s hand. “Come on, sit down on the sofa with me and we’ll talk.”

Tate obeyed, allowing himself to be led to the couch. Rogan chuckled as he gestured for Tate to sit. “At least there’s still one piece of furniture that’s upright.”

Tate couldn’t believe how well Rogan was taking everything. He peered up at Rogan, wondering why he wasn’t sitting down too.

As if he’d read Tate’s thoughts, Rogan smiled and said, “I’m going to grab us both some water and an ice pack for my ribs.”

Tate’s eyes widened. “Should you go to the hospital? Are they broken?”

“I think they’re just bruised, but if they’re worse by tomorrow I promise I’ll see a doctor, okay?” Rogan smiled again. “They were broken pretty badly one time during a bust, and this isn’t nearly as painful as that was.” He snorted. “Of course, if I have torn muscles or anything like that, I’ll be begging for mercy in a couple days.”

“I’m worried about you.” He hated the idea of Rogan being in pain.

Rogan petted back Tate’s hair. “You’re such a sweet boy. I’ll be fine, really.”

Tate swallowed hard, his heart fluttering. “I’m still your boy?”

Rogan’s forehead creased. “God, yes. Don’t let my homophobic ex-friend put ridiculous thoughts in your head. Whatever he might’ve said to you before I got here, I guarantee you it was a steaming pile of horseshit. I had an incredible, enlightening night with Master Zane, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it.” He smiled. “Trust your Daddy?”

Tate sucked in a sharp breath. The see-saw of emotions of the day had already overwhelmed him, but Rogan’s words helped smooth them out.

“I do. I do trust you.” He tilted his head. “Am I allowed to call you Daddy yet?”

Rogan kept petting Tate’s hair. “Master Zane said that as long as we’re both comfortable with the title and it feels natural, then yes. You’re allowed to call me Daddy.”

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