The Long Way

by May Archer

  Tears tracked down Cain’s cheeks and Damon caught them with his thumbs. “How is that possible? How is it possible that you can care about me when all I’ve done is mess things up for you and make your life harder?”

  “Chelsea told me the first step to trusting someone was deciding to trust them,” Damon told him, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Cain’s lips and another to his temple. And he was really, really glad he’d listened to her.

  “I just… I am so tired, Damon.”

  “I know you are, baby,” Damon said, leaning over the fucking stupid console as far as possible so he could take Cain in his arms, cradling Cain’s head against his shoulder. “I know you are.” He ran his hands up and down Cain’s back in a soothing motion.

  “I will help you protect Jesse, even though he’s an asshole,” Damon promised, and Cain’s watery chuckle made his arms squeeze tighter. God, he wanted to protect Cain from everything. “But you have to trust me to help you. And believe that you deserve better than to torture yourself this way. You’ve done nothing wrong by being gay, Cain. Nothing wrong by falling in love with a boy who didn’t deserve you. It’s not your fault your dad is the way he is. It’s not your fault Jack conned you, because he did the same fucking thing to me. Do you hear me? Do you believe me?”

  Cain nodded, a soft bump of his cheek against Damon’s chin. But then he added more firmly, “I believe you.”

  “Okay. Okay then. Here’s what we’re going to do…”

  Chapter 16

  By late afternoon, Cain was exhausted, even though he’d barely moved from the passenger seat all day. He’d made several phone calls - one to Drew, who was still with Bas, and who’d promised to look into the Jesse situation, and another to the Fassbenders, apologizing for the sudden, terrible flu that had -gosh darn it! -prevented him from going on their super-fun ski trip. But he’d put off the last phone call he’d needed to make as long as possible… until after they’d stopped for lunch, and then for groceries, until the car had started climbing up and up the side of the mountain and until Damon warned him they’d lose reception again if he didn’t do it soon.

  Even then he’d hesitated, his fingers like lead as he’d located the number and hit Send.

  “Cain Edward!” his mother had answered on the first ring. He’d had to squeeze his eyes shut, not because her tone was scolding - he was somehow beyond that now - but because ever since he’d left the Nashville house, he’d found it impossible to think of her without wondering how much of his father’s schemes she’d known about, and how much she’d gone along with.

  “Hello, Mother,” he’d said, and he hadn’t had to fake the way the words came out slow and tired.

  “What’s this I heard from Marnie Fassbender? You’re not going on the ski trip? And you didn’t have the courtesy to call her until today? For God’s sake, Cain.”

  “Did she tell you why?” Cain had asked.

  “Something about a flu,” Lucy Shaw had said dismissively. “But you were fine last time I saw you.”

  “Things changed. It would be far worse to get the entire Fassbender clan sick simply because you didn’t want to lose out on an opportunity to solidify a connection.”

  “No, this is your way of defying me,” his mother had argued. “You’re no more sick than I am. There’s still time, if you leave…”

  “Enough,” Cain had interrupted, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “I’ll assume you send your best wishes for my speedy recovery. I will not be going skiing. In fact, I only called because I wanted to know where you’d be spending Thanksgiving in case I felt well enough to join you.”

  “Cain!” His mother had been shocked, and he couldn’t blame her. When was the last time he’d defied her more than once in a single phone call? Possibly never… No, definitely never. “Why are you speaking to me this way?”

  He’d heard his father’s voice in the background, asking questions, soothing his mother. “Leave him be, Lucy. He’s a grown man.” And then his father was holding the phone, speaking to him. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d spoken directly - it had been months, for sure.

  “Cain?”

  “Yes?” He didn’t, couldn’t, add a “dad” to the end.

  “Be respectful to your mother.”

  “I always am,” he said, and then he fell silent, feeling no need to defend himself the way he always seemed to.

  Was this what adulthood was like?

  The senator seemed nonplussed by his deviation from their script. He sighed. “We’ll be heading to D.C. tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Will we see you?”

  Not if he could help it. “If I’m feeling better, yes. Otherwise I’ll stay away.” Far, far away.

  “Fair enough, son.” His father hesitated, then added, “Love you. Feel better.”

  Cain disconnected the call and sat staring at the blank screen of the phone as Damon’s GPS guided them through the hilly terrain and into the driveway of the Shaw family cabin high in the Smokies.

  Love you, feel better.

  Damon cut the engine and unbuckled his belt, listening to something on his phone, but Cain just sat staring at the house for a long moment. The cement-and-glass house stood three stories tall, two floors of living space above a garage that had been carved into the mountainside. Steel balconies ran around three sides of the upper floors, facing out over the valley below, but from here, there were only four oval windows visible, making the house look vaguely like a giant rectangular spaceship that had crash-landed in the middle of the woods.

  It was funny how the house looked so different now than when they’d first bought it - no more cozy log A-frame, no more wide front porch complete with rocking chairs. But although the structure of the house no longer resembled anything Cain remembered from his childhood, there were so many familiar things, too - the topography of the mountains that had been unchanged for millennia, the tall trees that still curved across the long driveway. There was a strange sort of symbolism in it. Despite the effort and buckets of money his parents had poured into making a showplace of something that should have been a haven, all of the essential things remained unchanged, for better and for worse.

  He opened his car door and stepped outside. Pine resin and the wood smoke from some unseen neighbor’s fire lent an acrid tang to the air that was welcoming and comfortable. Though the sun still shone, the air was much cooler this high up, and he shivered slightly, until Damon made his way around the car and wrapped Cain in his strong embrace.

  Damon was a little bit like the mountain. The fanciful thought took root in Cain’s brain, and he turned to bury his face in Damon’s chest. Damon was solid, unyielding. A comforting hope that had lived in Cain’s mind for far longer than Cain had even known he existed. A home.

  Which was silly, really. He and Damon were… well. That was a damn good question, really. Lovers, but not. Friends, but not. He hesitated to put a label on it, because that implied a sort of permanence, and whatever they were, nobody had ever said it was permanent.

  He pulled away to stand on his own.

  “So how do we get in?” Damon asked, and Cain chuckled.

  “There’s only one way in, besides the fire escape. Come on.” Cain’s feet crunched across the leaf-strewn gravel and typed in the code on the keypad next to the garage while Damon grabbed their bags from the trunk.

  “Let me guess,” Damon said, coming up behind him and nodding at the keypad as they watched the door slide up. “The date of the next presidential election? The date he became a vampire?”

  Cain blinked. “What? No. Uh… This one is birthdays actually. Mine, then Cady’s.” A vise squeezed around this heart.

  Damon grabbed his hand. “Cain,” he began. “I heard your conversation in the car. Are you—?”

  But Cain shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as Damon. “It’s like you said before. He’s not all one thing or another. He loves me in his own way. But he’s not a good dad, and he’s not a
good person.”

  Damon said nothing, but he didn’t let go of Cain’s hand, even as they made their way through the garage, past an old blue pickup truck and a low-slung black convertible parked there, and up the carpeted stairway to the main floor.

  The air inside was still and chilly, but unlike the stale, cold feeling of the Nashville house, here the stillness was expectant - a weird buzzing in his brain that told him they were in the right place and they’d find what they were looking for, in one way or another.

  Cain grabbed the grocery bags and moved into the kitchen, tossing food haphazardly into the nearly-empty fridge, but Damon had stopped by the stairs for a moment.

  “Wow,” he finally said, dropping the suitcases and moving into the open living area.

  Cain tried to see the place through Damon’s eyes. Gleaming cherry floors covered the entire expanse, from the kitchen and bathroom that faced the driveway, all the way through the living and dining area to the giant sliding glass doors that led to the deck. Beyond the doors, a leaf-strewn steel-and-glass balcony held an enormous built-in grill, along with several chairs and tables.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty wow,” Cain agreed quietly. Damon paused at the doors and cocked his head, a silent question, and Cain came forward to slide the doors open. “We can sit out here later, if you want. After we, you know, search the house.”

  Damon wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him out onto the deck. “Maybe the searching can wait a minute.”

  “No. No, we should get started before—”

  “Cain. It can wait.”

  Cain took a deep breath of the crisp air. He let Damon tow him over to a dark wicker love seat strewn with comfortable cushions, where he pulled him down, and wrapped him tightly in an embrace that already felt comfortable and expected.

  “Talk,” Damon said softly.

  “About what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The Patriots’ playoff chances? What you want Santa to bring you for Christmas? What the hell possessed you to buy me a hat that says Big Daddy?”

  Cain snickered. “I already told you. It was too perfect, after I’d already given you that nickname.”

  “Uh huh. Or maybe,” he suggested gently. “You could tell me about your phone calls this afternoon. I overheard some parts.”

  With a sigh, Cain nodded. He’d already known that Damon had heard almost everything. “You really think Bas and Drew will be able to keep Jesse safe? Make sure he keeps his job and nobody talks about his past?”

  “Drew already told you he was going to take care of everything, and Jesse never has to know you were ever involved.” He paused, hesitated. “Unless you want him to know.”

  Cain shook his head. Memories of Jesse were some of the fondest, happiest ones he had. He’d hung onto those memories, hung on to Jesse, for that reason. But now, everything with Damon was so brightly colored, so much more than anything he’d ever experienced, that he saw just how pale and washed out those memories of Jesse really were.

  “I can’t think of a single reason I’d want him to know,” Cain said firmly.

  Damon nodded, like this was no big deal, but Cain could feel the muscles of his arms relaxing where they wrapped around Cain’s shoulder.

  “And we didn’t ask Drew this, but I’m pretty sure they’ll make sure you’re taken care of too, Cain. If you don’t want to live with your parents anymore, you have places to go. Remember? Friends. Whether you want to testify against your dad or not.”

  Cain didn’t reply, just sank more deeply into Damon’s side, grateful for Damon’s words and the calm acceptance in them. Cain didn’t want to think about what they would find when they searched, what the proof to convict his father would look like. But more than that, he didn’t want to think about what would happen if they found nothing at all.

  All along, Cain had been determined not to come forward about his father in order to protect Jesse. Now that Jesse was safe, he had to confront the fact that he really didn’t want to come forward. He should and he would. But he hated that circumstances had decreed he’d be the one to bring the gavel down on his own father.

  Love you. Feel better.

  Cain was weak. As always.

  But Damon seemed to read his mind - or maybe to read the clench of his belly and the tightening of his shoulders. “You know, I was angry this morning. When we were talking about this stuff in the car.”

  “I know. I don’t blame you. Anyone would—”

  “No, let me say this,” Damon argued gently. “It wasn’t fair of me to say that you were putting Jesse’s life before mine, or to suggest that not confronting your dad made you weak.” He exhaled slowly. “Things were different for me growing up. My own dad is generally recognized as a piece of shit - a total womanizer, an addict, a thief, and a bully. After my mom died, I was a foster care kid for a long time. I had no… legacy to uphold, or whatever you want to call it. If I ever thought of my dad, it was to make damn sure I didn’t turn out like him. I don’t have any loyalty to my dad.”

  Damon picked up Cain’s hand and toyed with his fingers. “And even though I hated him? I still think I probably would have turned out just like him, if not for Cort. I mean, when you don’t love anyone and you don’t have anyone who loves you, how can you help but turn into a self-absorbed asshole? If Cort hadn’t come into my life when he did, if he hadn’t needed me, I don’t know where I’d be now. And I ask myself, what would I do if I believed Cort had committed a crime? If he’d killed someone, or hurt someone? Would I turn him in?” He shook his head. “Like you said before, it’s not that easy.”

  “Cort’s different,” Cain whispered. “He loves you, and you know he’s a good guy. My father… I don’t know how or when his priorities started changing, but I can’t say the same about him.” It fucking killed him to accept it, let alone to say it aloud, but he did. “He’s just not a good man.”

  “You never really know why people make the choices they make, Cain. You know, just as we pulled into the driveway this evening, I got a voicemail from my brother.” He winced. “A pretty loud, furious voicemail.”

  “What?” Cain sat up slightly, pulling away. “Why? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. He and Cam are fine, I think. He didn’t really say.” He chuckled humorlessly and drew Cain back down. “He was too busy taking me to task for the fact that I left town without telling him, that I went to Drew and Bas for help with Chelsea instead of asking him, that I called Drew about helping Jesse.” He ticked off the list of grievances on his fingers. “And worst of all, he had to find out about the whole people-shooting-at-us thing second-hand from Bas.”

  “Oh.” Cain could see how that would be… pretty terrifying, actually.

  “Yeah, oh,” Damon said, shaking his head ruefully. “And he’s right. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d murder him for not telling me. But it’s not just about what’s happened the last few days. I mean, Cort was the most important person in my life for a long, long time. And then, after the crash…”

  He paused to look out over the mountains, and Cain pushed himself more fully against Damon’s side, trying to share his warmth, his presence. Trying to comfort Damon the way Damon comforted him.

  “After the crash, I abandoned him. That’s how he felt, anyway. But from my perspective, I was convinced that keeping my distance would save him, and having me around would only drag him down.”

  “What? That’s crazy!” Cain poked Damon in the ribs, and Damon’s eyes flared in response.

  “It’s not.” Damon grabbed Cain’s offending finger and bit it gently. He stretched out his leg, and Cain began to knead the muscles with his fingertips. Damon squeezed his shoulders in appreciation. “When I first woke up from the accident, I believed everything they said about me was true,” Damon told him. “I believed I’d missed something in my pre-check. Jack and I had only had one drink apiece the night before, so I didn’t think it was possible that I could be hungover, right? But I was tired, groggy.
Jack offered to help me with the pre-check, to go over everything again in case I’d missed something, while I went and got some coffee. And I was grateful. I was wide awake when we took off that day, but for the first couple of weeks after the crash, I was convinced I had somehow been negligent. I thought I was toxic, and I wanted to protect Cort from, well, myself. Later on, when I saw Jack on TV lying about how I had been drinking, I recognized that I’d need Cort’s help to bring Jack to justice, but even then I thought I was doing him a favor by keeping my distance and only communicating as little as possible.”

  Cain shook his head sadly. “I get it. It sucks that you felt that way.”

  “But the thing is, did I fix it? Did I stick around and make things up to Cort?” His fingers closed more tightly over Cain’s and he pressed a kiss to Cain’s temple. “Nope. I decided since he had Cam, he didn’t need me and my drama hanging around. And then I left to take care of Chelsea without even consulting him.”

  “You were protecting him.”

  “I was,” Damon agreed. “But I’m kinda starting to realize that in my quest to protect him, I’ve hurt him a lot.”

  “Maybe so, but if you’re trying to compare your behavior with Cort to my father’s behavior with… everyone in the world, you’re missing the point. Actions aren’t the only thing that matter. Motive matters too.”

  “Spoken like a future lawyer, Mr. Shaw,” Damon teased, and just like that, the weight on Cain’s chest lifted.

  He slapped Damon lightly in the stomach. “Spoken like a smart and mature individual,” he corrected.

  “A smart-ass, immature individual?”

  Cain sat up and looked Damon in the eye. “Just for that, you don’t get to see the hot tub.”

  “Wait, hot tub?” Damon squinted. “I was not aware this was even on the table.”

  “Uh huh. That’s because you haven’t been upstairs yet.” Cain stood and planted his hands on his hips.

  “You can’t just dangle those words in front of a man after you’ve taken it away, Cain,” Damon said with mock anger.