Page 11 of Born Daddy

Chapter Four

Rogan flipped through his mail, separated out the junk, then tossed it into the trash. He dropped the few remaining pieces into a basket on the tiled counter in his kitchen to be dealt with later. As he made his way into the bedroom to change, he stretched his arms above his head, rolling his neck to hopefully release some of the tension he was holding there.

What a bitch of a day.

He’d thought about stopping for some Chinese on his way back to his apartment but didn’t want to eat anything too heavy so late in the day. He’d also been too tired to hit the gym, so decided to save that for the morning. Maybe a protein shake and kicking back on the couch with Netflix would do it for the night.

Once he got to his bedroom, his earlier conversation with Dan filtered through his thoughts. He’d never been one for paranoia, but suddenly all he could think about was that someone was listening in.

Dammit.

Relaxing was off the table and checking for wiretaps had been advanced to the top of the evening’s activities.

After getting undressed and tugging on a pair of sweats along with a Patriots T-shirt, he went through the motions of searching his place for taps. At least his years of training and being on the other end of the mic made the job fairly quick. He knew all the likely places to check.

Right as Rogan grabbed the can of protein powder from his cupboard, his cell went off. He frowned as he noted the caller ID, his heart picking up a quicker pace as he grabbed the phone to answer.

“Are you okay?”

He imagined his rather abrupt and semi-panicked greeting must’ve caught Tate off guard, because he didn’t answer right away.

“Uh, yeah.” Tate’s small voice tugged at Rogan’s heart. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

Rogan shoved away the can of powder then traveled the short distance around his counter to drop onto his old, leather sofa.

“Not at all. What’s up, Tate?”

Tate chuckled nervously. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

Rogan could’ve sworn he heard Tate whisper ‘stupid’ but wasn’t sure.

“Where are you? At home?”

Rogan held in a snort. He’d seen some ratty shitholes in his life, but the slumlord haven where he’d dropped Tate off reached new lows. Tate had explained that the apartment manager didn’t care who they rented to. He hadn’t had much luck anywhere else, given the stain of his previous association with a serial killer, so he’d reluctantly moved in.

“Yeah. But it’s cool if you’re busy, I can go. I mean, we’ll be getting together Wednesday night anyway.” Tate sighed. “I’m not sure why I called.”

“Because you’re lonely.”

Rogan wasn’t about to confess anything out loud, but he could admit it to himself. He’d been feeling pretty damn lonely too.

“Oh.” Tate paused before continuing. “That’s probably it. I know this is going to sound weird, but I haven’t felt like this since I was a kid. Even though…” He cleared his throat. “Even though Cam would sometimes be gone for hours, I always knew he’d come back, that I belonged and there was someone there only for me. But…but I guess that wasn’t true, was it? And then one day he didn’t come back.”

Rogan reclined against the sofa arm, the weight of Tate’s words bearing down on him. “You never told me how you found out. If you don’t want to talk about it, though, that’s okay.”

“No, it’s fine. I think maybe I need to talk about that night, how insane it was.”

“I’ll just listen, okay? And you’re not alone. I’m here.”

Rogan wondered if he might be promising too much. His initial meaning had been in the now. But he knew that wasn’t true. Despite how crazy it seemed, Rogan would support Tate however he could, wouldn’t abandon him. This young man had been forever scarred by Rogan’s supposed dear friend and left to struggle in the aftermath. Rogan’s deep-seated sense of responsibility in all things demanded he help Tate however he could. Even if Tate ended up being less innocent than he appeared, his pain was genuine.

“Well, I was doing my—” Tate cleared his throat. “Uh, how much do you know about the lifestyle?”

Rogan drew his eyebrows together. “The what?”

“The lifestyle me and Cam practiced. Our relationship dynamic. It’s a term used in the BDSM community.”

“Oh! Right.” Rogan scratched his head. He wasn’t a sheltered man, but beyond the occasional porn watch and expressions like safewords, sub and Master—he wasn’t all that informed. He supposed he was a so-called vanilla guy. “I only have a vague concept overall, and Cam never went into detail about the relationship he shared with you. Me, Lenny and Mitch—those are his other buddies from high school—weren’t a part of that world. It was like he wanted to keep that to himself. He never even tried to get us to go to a club with him or anything.”

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