Page 49 of Born Daddy

“Oh, this is a nice place.” Tate glanced around, his gaze traveling the room. He then turned back to Rogan. “The layout is cool.”

Rogan took inventory of the open plan apartment with high beam ceilings, wood laminate floors and a spacious kitchen with modern appliances and tried to see it through fresh eyes. He hadn’t put too much thought into the particulars when he’d picked it out several years before. He’d been more concerned with the area, price and size. Back then, he was working in the field and barely spent any time at home anyway.

Then his thoughts drifted to where Tate had been living with Cam. Now that had been an amazing home. Rogan mused that if he ever bought a dream home, it would be one of the older, more historical ones. But Cam had chosen to live in a newer neighborhood on the edge of the town of Northampton. His place had been a large, contemporary, custom built house with windows on two sides of the living room that made up the walls. An interesting feature considering how hidden the rest of Cam’s life was.

“Thank you. I guess I haven’t paid much attention to that for a while.”

Rogan tossed his keys and wallet onto the kitchen counter. Tate continued wandering idly around the large room that constituted the majority of the square footage. He ran his fingers along the spines of Rogan’s collection of spy thrillers that he’d begun reading again once he’d started teaching.

Tate abruptly drew his hand away then shoved them both into his pockets. He peered up at Rogan. “How long have you lived here?”

“About ten years.” Rogan couldn’t tell if Tate was trying to fill the silence or if he was genuinely interested in the answer. “I’ve been saving to buy a house for most of that time.” He chuckled. “Actually, I could probably afford to now, but…” Tate didn’t need to know he’d been waiting until he had a reason to plant roots. “Anyway, this place has served me well. It’s a secure building, so I never had to worry much while I was gone on a case.”

Tate nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

He cleared his throat and went back to surveying the room as if he wasn’t sure what to say next. Rogan scratched his head. He’d hoped that inviting Tate over would help him to relax after the trauma of the interrogation, but so far, it appeared to be having the opposite effect. Now, what he’d been certain was the perfect opportunity to explore what was happening between them seemed unwise. Rogan was supposed to be helping Tate, not piling on more stress.

Who the hell am I kidding with this Daddy stuff?

He shook his head to himself. If only the pull he felt toward Tate wasn’t so powerful, and the desire to fill the role of caretaker so intense, he could banish from his mind the strange ideas of him becoming what Tate truly needed.

“Is this your family?”

Rogan was jolted out of his thoughts by Tate’s query.

“Yeah. My mom and dad, and the brothers and sisters I told you about.”

He wandered over to the massive bookcase that not only held a myriad of books and CDs, but also several framed photos of his parents and siblings from different stages of his life. His eyes landed on a picture of him, Lenny, Mitch and Cam taken by a long-forgotten classmate on their final day of high school.

Shit.

Rogan quickly slammed the frame facedown. Tate laid a soft hand on Rogan’s wrist.

“It’s okay. I already saw it.” Tate let his hand drop. “It’s funny. Seeing pictures of him from the past—even the ones I’ve happened across online or in papers when I’m out and about—don’t bother me. It’s like…” His brow wrinkled. “Like it takes me back to a time when none of this had happened. When everything was still normal.”

Rogan started to reach for Tate the way he had at the station, lifting his arm to drape it across Tate’s shoulders, then thought better of it. This time, they were alone. Disapproving eyes wouldn’t be there to prevent another touch, then another and another and another—until lines got crossed that could create more trauma for Tate than he was already dealing with.

“Yeah. Same here.” He grunted. “I actually dug out one of my old yearbooks the other night.”

He didn’t add that part of the reason was because of the Mitch incident. How had the years changed them so much? Yet, Mitch and Cam weren’t the only ones who seemed different. Rogan realized that his own inner dilemma regarding his newfound urges were quite the left turn as well.

Tate turned up his chin and gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you understand. One of the things I never got from Cam was him understanding my feelings, or even caring about them all that much.”

Rogan drew his eyebrows together. “I don’t understand. I thought that was part of the whole Daddy gig, that he discovered what your needs were and made sure they were fulfilled.”

Tate tugged on his ear, his brow wrinkling again as if he was searching for the right words. “Yeah. He was great at that. But what I’m talking about is on a more personal level.” Tate’s frown deepened. “Like, if I was sad about something, he’d buy me a new video game and a treat, or give me a bath and massage my neck, but he never wanted to talk things out. In the beginning, I’d try to share my fears and concerns with him, but he always cut me off and told me not to worry, that it was his job to make sure I was taken care of.

Tate raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure I’m making sense. But there’s caring for my physical needs, plus going through the motions of soothing and calming.” Tate shrugged. “Sex. But he never wanted to connect on a deeper level. He just wanted us to be our roles with each other. Like I wasn’t a real person, but more of an exceedingly well-animated blow up doll.”

Tate’s eyes widened at the exact moment Rogan gasped. This time, Rogan didn’t hesitate, but gathered one of Tate’s hands in his own.

“I think you touched on the exact issue with Cam. People weren’t real to him, so why would their feelings matter?”

Tate swallowed a few times as if battling his emotions. “I didn’t matter.”

“Hey…” Rogan draped his arm around Tate then tugged him to his side—other concerns be damned. “That had nothing to do with you. It was part of whatever was broken in Cam, whatever it was that separated him from his humanity. You’re an amazing man and he didn’t deserve you.”

Tate gazed up at him, his lower lip trembling. “I kept telling myself that he must love me, that he had to love me, even though he never said it. But he didn’t, did he?”

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