“Sounds like it wandered into the right hands, then.”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “I think so. How much is it?”
“Four hundred dollars.”
Shit. I closed my eyes, the excitement I’d just felt plunging into frustration. “Oh. I didn’t realize… I’m sure it’s worth it, but I don’t have that kind of money.” Fuck, I hated this. Hated that I couldn’t just spend money on someone who meant something to me, someone who’d done so much for me.
I set it down.
“Three fifty?” he asked.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you. That’s a great camera.”
I turned to walk away, but he stopped me with his words. “Money comes and goes. I’m eighty years old, and the things I remember are moments—spending time with family and friends. Taking photos with that camera. I get it. I’m not telling you to do something you can’t afford, but…but I can tell you want it, and I think your friend would give it a good home. That’s more important to me than the money. I want someone to love this camera and to make memories with it like I did.”
I was struck dumb for a moment, unsure how to respond. He was right. Harrison would fall in love with the gift. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I did. And he was special to me. I couldn’t tell him that, but maybe this camera would.
“Don’t decide right now. I’m going to hold on to this. I don’t need to sell it anyway. You look over your finances, and if you can make it work, come back, and it’ll be here.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. When you get to my age, you learn to trust your gut. That’s what I’m doing.”
He walked away just as Molly and Mom approached. “What was that about?” Mom asked.
“Nothing.”
It was about ten that night before I let myself think about it again. Mom and Molly had just gone to bed. I was lying on the couch in the dark. The house was only two bedrooms. We’d shared when Molly was younger, but now she was twelve and I didn’t want to take up her space.
I wondered what Harrison was doing. I hadn’t talked to him since Friday morning when I’d left his house for work.
I’d thought about calling my bank and looking over my bills and such again, but I hadn’t. It would just piss me off. I would either do this, or I wouldn’t.
My fingers lingered over the screen by his name. I figured he was awake, but I didn’t want to call, and I shouldn’t be so needy that I wanted to talk to him, anyway. Still, I opened a text. Hi.
Hey yourself. I’ve been thinking about you.
Instead of replying, I didn’t overthink it too much and called instead. Harrison answered almost instantly.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
“This is good. How’s it going?”
I shrugged as if he could see me. “I love seeing them. Mom and Molly are great.”
“But?” Harrison asked, obviously sensing there was more.
“I hate you.”
“I hate you too,” he replied, and then, as if he had a connection to my mind, as if he somehow lived there, he added, “Going home makes you feel guilty, doesn’t it?”
I froze, just lay there staring into the dark and trying to figure out how to answer because yes, it did, but there was no reason he should know that. No reason I should tell him. “Yes.” I got off the couch, slipped out the front door, and sat on the porch so they wouldn’t hear me. “I hate it here, if I’m being honest. I feel like that kid who couldn’t sit still in class, the one whose dad came and went and didn’t care about him, the one whose mom worked her ass off to make ends meet and never quite did. But I belong with them. I feel like the worst son and brother in the world because I was thankful, Harrison. I was thankful when I didn’t go to college here. Not being here with them makes me feel like him, like my father.”
The line was quiet for a moment, Harrison likely as surprised as I was that I’d said that to him. I couldn’t wrap my brain around why I had. Why he was able to look inside me and draw my secrets out.
“You’re not him.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know you. I know the kind of man you are. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. It’s okay to want a life for yourself too. As a matter of fact, Warren was just telling me that yesterday for a different reason.”
“What was it?” I’d rather talk about him than me.
“It’s not important. I know what you’re doing. We’re not changing the subject. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Your family loves you, and they want you happy. They know you’ll always be there for them. You send them money, don’t you?”
“Not because she asks for it. She hates taking it, but I insist.”
“I know. I didn’t mean that. I’m just not surprised you’d do that.”
Because Harrison would do the same. He would do anything for Ross. Not that what I did was on the same level, but…I liked the idea of being like him in some ways. He was so good.
“Can I ask about your mom’s situation?”
“She dropped out of high school…crappy home life. She struggled to get a job. She met my dad. He’s a dick—comes around, then leaves, and as soon as we’re doing okay without him, he comes back and uproots everything again. Half the time he didn’t work when he lived with us, so he was just another mouth to feed, but she always took him back. Other times he would get a job and help her out, and we’d be doing okay…until he left again. I’ll never understand him. I used to get so angry with her for it…maybe I still do.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“Anyway, things got worse while I was in college. She hurt her back. She makes shit for disability, is in pain all the time. Her choices are pills or surgery, and both fucking suck. Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“When something hurts you, it concerns me. I like it when you let me in, Mr. Wescott. Most of the time you’re too much of a brat.”
I smiled. “Takes one to know one.” When he was silent, I said, “Can we talk about something else?”
“Yeah, we can. I had lunch with Ross and Trina today.”
We talked for an hour, about nothing important, but it felt like it was.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Harrison
I spent entirely too much time on Sunday thinking about Zander’s call the night before. I knew what a gift it was to have him share such personal things with me. He had to have been emotional to do it. Maybe going home always made him feel that way, but he’d chosen to call me and open up to me. He was making me fall even deeper for him and had no idea. I couldn’t say exactly what I was falling into, but it was more than no-strings-attached sex with a friend.
He threw me for another loop when he texted that afternoon: Do you have plans this evening?
I’m hoping to see this really hot guy I’m sleeping with. Maybe you know him and can ask him if he wants to come over.
A couple of minutes later Zander replied: He said he’ll probably be bored and not have anything else better to do anyway.