Chapter Twenty
Curled up in his favorite armchair by the fire in Asher’s library, Cameron thumbed his finger across the screen of his phone.
It was a typical, lazy Sunday, and neither he nor Asher had any desire or need to venture out into the cold.
At some point, he’d have to make the short drive back to Mission Grove, but for the time being, he was content to sit and read.
It felt almost criminal to be pouring over an online article on his phone while surrounded by so many incredible books. Yet, the pages on the shelves didn’t have headlines like Asher Dare Vindicated .
Cameron sighed.
It was just one of the hundreds of articles circulating on the internet these days. Most of them seemed to be regurgitating the same information, almost word-for-word, but it was still better than the ones that talked about Kyle Ander’s tragic demise.
Police had arrived shortly after Kyle’s death, their lights flashing and sirens blaring.
Cameron had been checked over by an EMT at Asher’s insistence, then he’d given his statement to the police.
Since several of the reporters on hand had kept their cameras rolling, there really wasn’t much to investigate .
Open and shut. Bagged and tagged.
Cameron shifted in his seat as his stomach twisted uncomfortably.
When Kyle had pulled him away from Asher’s side and pressed a gun to his head, he had never been so terrified.
Sometimes, when he was very still, when he didn’t have anything else to occupy his mind, he thought he could still feel the cold steel against his temple and the arm pushing heavily on his windpipe.
It had been almost a week since the events that had unfolded outside the studio, but every time Cameron closed his eyes at night, he still saw Kyle’s sightless eyes staring back at him. He had a painful feeling that it would be a while before he got that image out of his head.
Shuddering, he pushed those unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind and returned his attention to his phone.
Like others he’d read, the current article gave a brief synopsis of Asher’s career, then went on to summarize his involvement in the Mitchell Faraday case. Next, it touched on some of the highlights of his interview with Meredith Tripoli and even offered a handful of memorable quotes.
When the piece finally reached the part about Asher’s parents, it leaned heavily to Asher’s side of events from his childhood. It didn’t go so far as to make his parents out to be monsters, but it didn’t exactly cast them in a favorable light, either .
“You know,” he said, looking up from the screen, “there’s something I don’t get.”
Sprawled on the sofa with a copy of the latest James Patterson novel, Asher hummed that he was listening, but he didn’t look up from the page.
“You were a minor when you were picked up for shoplifting, right? Couldn’t the courts have ordered your parents to take you back?
” He fully understood why Asher wouldn’t have wanted that, but he couldn’t figure out why the possibility hadn’t even been broached.
“Or, I don’t know, charge them with neglect or abandonment or something? ”
He was careful not to include the word “abuse.” They hadn’t discussed that part of Asher’s past since the interview, and Cameron was doing his damnedest not to push. When Asher was ready, he’d talk about it.
Sighing, Asher bookmarked his page and sat up.
“I told the judge that I had run away and that I didn’t want to go back.
The youth shelter he sent me to was for runaways, a sanctuary, I guess.
Legally, I could stay there for thirty days before they had to hand me over to my parents.
I made sure I was long gone before then. ”
“Oh.”
It didn’t really seem fair, and Cameron hated that they’d never pay for the suffering they’d caused. He guessed he’d just have to content himself with their public humiliation. It probably made him a terrible person, but he was enjoying every second of watching the media rip apart their lies.
Everyone finally knew the truth. About everything.
Of course, Asher being gay would never be universally accepted among his readers, or even his fellow authors.
However, the support since his interview had been overwhelmingly positive, giving them their first real glimmer of hope that things might really be okay.
Even Landon Dwyer was finally getting his comeuppance.
Since Kyle had mentioned him by name during his tirade, police had brought Landon in for questioning in connection to the shooting.
The coverage was a little vague on the details, but a few reputable sources had reported that it had been Landon who had tracked down the Derringers, not Kyle.
Apparently, he’d offered them a pretty hefty sum of money to appear on his web series, as well as promising them rights to a non-existent book he never intended to write.
According to those same reports, he’d also been the one to convince Kyle that the web series was the most expedient and lucrative way to get the story to the masses. It had taken a while for Cameron to put the pieces together.
Eventually, he’d realized that was what Kyle had meant the day he’d burst into his office and started raving about how things had “changed.” While he had still been willing to accept a payout in exchange for his silence, the timeline had been moved up with the introduction of Landon’s new plan.
As a nice, juicy cherry on top, the celebrity gossip blog, Sinematic, hadn’t been updated since the shooting, probably due in large part to publish pushback. It seemed people had a problem with Landon’s involvement, however indirectly, in Asher and Cameron being threatened at gunpoint.
Even better, all traces of the web series had been deleted from the blog, including a scheduled episode that had never aired.
Of course, the internet was forever, and if someone really wanted to see those interviews, they’d be able to find them.
All Cameron cared about was the fact that Landon Dwyer wouldn’t be profiting from them.
Karma really was a bitch.
“I’m going to do it.”
Cameron lowered his phone to his lap and looked up with a frown. Either he’d missed a crucial part of the conversation while he’d been lost in thought, or he was going to need a lot more information before he could participate.
“Do what exactly?”
“I’m going to self-publish the last Marshall Kane book,” Asher elaborated.
By sheer force of will, Cameron managed to keep a neutral expression.
He didn’t want to influence Asher one way or the other, which was why he’d been carefully mute on the topic.
On one hand, he wanted Asher to be happy, and the book had caused him so much stress lately.
On the other hand, he couldn’t deny that he desperately wanted a new addition in his favorite series, and self-publishing the manuscript meant he’d get it that much sooner.
“Okay,” he answered slowly. “That’s good, right?”
Asher bobbed his head, but he didn’t really appear to be paying attention.
“It’s the final book of the series.” He gave Cameron a sympathetic smile.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but this really will be the last one. I’m done with Atrea Press, but it doesn’t make sense to sign a single book with a new publisher, either. ”
“That makes sense.” Cameron still felt like he was missing something. The excitement in Asher’s amber eyes couldn’t just be because he’d decided to publish the book himself.
“At a discount.”
Cameron blinked.
“With royalties going to Reach Out.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Maybe he’d misheard. “Did you just say that you’re going to sell the book at a discount and donate all of the royalties?”
Asher beamed back at him. “Yep. That’s what I said.”
It was a wildly generous proposition, and it was sure to generate goodwill from both readers and the LBGTQ community, but that was a lot of damn money .
“Can I ask what brought this on?”
“I want to finish the book for me, but also for all the readers who have been waiting for it. For the readers who stuck by me through all of this.” Asher moved his hand around in a big, all-encompassing way. “That’s why I want to offer it at half of what the publisher would have charged.”
Cameron was with him so far. “And donating the royalties?”
Asher shrugged. “It’s not like I need the money, but Reach Out can do a lot of good with it. If there had been a place like that when I was fourteen, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up on the streets.”
Or involved with Mitchell Faraday.
Cameron nodded, his throat becoming uncomfortably tight as he battled back a wave of emotion. This wasn’t some marketing ploy. It wasn’t a scheme to generate more sales on his other books. It was completely pure, utterly selfless, and it just made Cameron love him even more.
“I—” He coughed to clear the roughness in his voice. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“Good, because I’m going to need your help setting it all up.”
“Of course.” He did have one more question, though. “What about the new project?”
Asher had been pretty secretive about the new book he’d started writing, saying only that it was something completely different from his mystery series. It could literally be anything, and the curiosity had been eating away at him for months.
“I’ll figure that out when I actually finish the book.” Jumping up from the sofa, he patted both hands against the pockets of his navy-blue lounge pants. “Where’s my phone? I need to call Becca.”
“Downstairs.” Cameron chuckled. “In the kitchen beside the coffee maker.”
“Perfect.” Crossing to him, Asher dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll order lunch, too. Any preference?”
Cameron decided not to point out that it was barely nine o’clock in the morning. “Anything is fine.”
“Yeah, pizza sounds good.”
Cameron snorted. He clearly wasn’t needed for this conversation. “Go on. I’m going to jump in the shower.”
Reaching the double doors, Asher paused and looked over his shoulder. “Cameron?”
“Yeah?”