“That’s bullshit,” spit out Agent Phillips.
“It’s not.” Tate huffed. “I know you guys think I’m a weirdo because of the way I live, but you just don’t get it. Cam called the shots. But only because it was part of our agreement. I’m the one who gave him that power, and in return, he gave me what I needed, what I wanted. I’ve told you over and fucking over. He never beat me, never abused me or humiliated me. Hell, he barely raised his voice. I’ve never met anyone so chill before, even though I knew he had a lot of stress with his investment stuff. I could ask any questions I wanted. Any. But part of the agreement was that he got to choose what I needed to know and what I didn’t. He was my Daddy, and daddies don’t tell their boys things they know will upset them.”
“Oh brother,” Agent Phillips muttered as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Tate doesn’t need your opinions about his life,” Rogan growled. “That has nothing to do with this investigation.”
Agent Phillips scowled at Rogan. “Haven’t you been warned about interrupting?”
Rogan scowled back. “Haven’t you been warned not to be an asshole?”
“Whoa, that’s enough.” Detective Sullivan held up his hands. He regarded Rogan with a weary sigh. “Could you please dial it back?”
“I’m not sure I should.” Rogan leaned past Tate and addressed Attorney O’Hara. “Is he finished here?”
Tate’s attorney nodded. “I believe so.” He regarded first the detective then the agent. “He doesn’t know anything about the diary or whoever this Jace is.”
Mr. O’Hara rose, and Rogan encouraged Tate to do the same by clasping his elbow. Detective Sullivan ran his hand over the top of his head with a sigh then stood as well. He narrowed his eyes at Rogan then turned to Tate.
“If we think of anything else, we’ll be in touch.”
Mr. O’Hara nudged Tate as he leaned across the table, waving his business card to Detective Sullivan.
“My guess is you lost my last one? You know, since you contacted my client directly?”
Tate had already gotten an earful from his attorney about not contacting him before agreeing to go with the detectives. Yet another example of why he needed someone looking out for him. Not that he wasn’t enough of an adult to take responsibility for himself, but he’d been conditioned early on in the foster care system not to make his own decisions, to follow orders as they were given without question.
Tate mused that Cam must’ve been savvy enough to recognize that quality in him. He tried not to think about how maybe that had been his only worth to Cam. They’d never used the word love to describe their relationship, but Tate had always hoped that someday it would evolve into such a deep connection.
After some perfunctory goodbyes, he and Rogan found themselves outside the station. The late spring twilight signaled to Tate it had to be approaching eight o’clock. He’d been so flustered when the detectives had shown up at his apartment, that he’d left his cell behind. Fortunately, Detective Sullivan had known how to get hold of Rogan.
“So.” Rogan appeared nervous and Tate couldn’t imagine why. He shifted back and forth on his feet and gazed around the lot before he returned his attention to Tate. “Did you need a ride?”
Tate considered the question. Technically, yes he did. However, he’d been taking busses, cabs and Ubers all over the place since he’d been tossed out of his home. But that didn’t matter. He already knew the answer he’d give Rogan.
“Yeah, that would be great.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”
Rogan broke into a smile, his overall demeanor seeming more relaxed than it had been since he’d arrived at the precinct.
“Come on. I can’t wait to get you away from this place.”
Rogan gestured with a jerk of his head to follow his lead and a pang of disappointment hit Tate in his chest. He’d hoped that after Rogan had hugged him and held his hand in front of all those people, that maybe he’d still want to now that they were alone. Tate offered Rogan a smile and rushed to be by his side.
He’d take whatever closeness Rogan would allow.