24. Cameron
CAMERON
Scrolling through his direct messages, Cameron’s brows creased in the middle. For the most part, people loved the collaboration videos he had posted featuring Basher.
There were a few obscene comments in which the viewer described—in detail—what they wanted to do with the hot-tatted guy in the video. Those kind of irked him.
Why did people suddenly jump to the conclusion that Basher was available for hookups? Just because he agreed to be filmed fucking on camera did not mean he was single and looking to mingle!
Okay, perhaps he was overacting.
Just a bit.
But still.
Basher was his, but he couldn’t do anything to claim him—not online, anyway.
Then there was this latest comment from You you should also have a relationship title that fits something just as unique.”
“I’m Basher,” Basher finally spoke. He took a step forward and stuck out his hand. “I really like your son. He’s special, and I’ll do anything for him.”
His mother took Basher’s hand in hers and stared at his bulging bicep.
“Yes, my son is definitely safe in your arms.”
Cameron tried not to laugh as Basher’s cheeks flushed.
“Basher’s more of the strong, silent type. So don’t mind him if he doesn’t say much. I swear he’s listening and paying attention; he can just be a little shy,” Cameron added, wrapping his arm around Basher’s other arm.
“Well, I’m Linda, and it’s a pleasure to meet the man who’s stolen my son’s heart.” She gave Cameron a wink.
God, he loved his mom. Seeing the smile on her face and the light in her eyes, it was just like old times, growing up with nothing to worry about.
“Okay, so what do we have on the menu this evening?” his mom asked, eyeing the bags Cameron had set down by the door.
“I thought perhaps we could make caprese chicken, with apple turnovers for dessert. How do you feel about that, Mom?”
Linda’s face lit up at the mention of the menu. “Oh, yes, hun. That sounds perfect!” She walked over to Basher and linked her arm with his. “Now, tell me, dear. How are your cooking skills?”
Basher looked over at Cameron as if pleading for help. Cameron just smiled.
“Well, to be honest, I’m more of a taste tester than a cook.”
Picking up the grocery bags, Cameron carried them out the door. “He speaks the truth. You should see how he devoured those homemade cookies you taught me how to make. I think they passed the test.”
Linda chuckled as she led Basher toward the kitchen with Cameron.
“My son and I used to have a family cook night every Monday. I taught my little boy how to cook and how to bake. Now the student is the master.”
Basher patted Linda’s hand as they walked.
“My stomach and waistline thank you,” Basher added, startling them both with his attempt at humor.
They both chuckled.
Cameron felt his chest expand once more. This quiet, scary-looking man could be so damn sweet.
They spent the next forty-five minutes cooking dinner and making the dessert. By the time the food was ready, Basher and Mom were best friends.
Somehow, Basher had managed to pull just about every embarrassing story about Cameron out of his mom without ever asking her for one. The woman’s stories just bled into each other.
Carrying the food over to the table Basher had set, Cameron leaned down and stole a quick kiss from his lips.
Basher's eyes immediately darted toward his mother, who thankfully had her back to them as she finished adding the last of the dressing to the salad.
“Cam,” Basher whispered through clenched teeth. “You can’t be kissing me in front of your mom. It’s not right.”
The panicked look on Basher’s face made it almost impossible not to laugh.
“You’re too cute when you’re scared.” Cameron chuckled.
Linda joined them at the table, and they began enjoying their meal.
“So, Basher, I take it that is a nickname?” Cameron’s mother asked as she cut into her chicken.
“Mom!” Cameron gasped, not sure whether Basher was comfortable getting into his personal life story.
Basher glanced at Cameron, then turned back to his mom.
“It’s a nickname I got while I was young. I didn’t have the greatest life growing up, and let’s just say I was a little meaner than I should have been. My birth name is actually Tobias, but I haven’t gone by that since I was very little.”
Cameron’s mom reached across the table and placed her hand over Basher’s.
“We should never forget where we came from, because our pasts are what shape us into the people we are today. We can learn from our experiences and strive to become better versions of ourselves, but each of us must face our own hardships and challenges. Those struggles are not meant to break us—they are part of the process of becoming who we are meant to be.”
Watching the way Basher hung on his mother’s every word, Cameron could see just how much he respected her.
“I have two questions to ask,” Linda began, raising her fingers so she could count them down. “One, do you care about my son?”
“More than anything,” Basher said, glancing over at Cameron and giving him a gentle smile.
“And two. Will you always do everything in your power to take care of and protect my boy? Make sure he is safe and that you never do anything to break my baby's heart?”
Cameron’s heart stopped when Basher turned to face him. He was certain that Basher would run off and never want to speak with him again. How could his mother be asking him such questions?
“When I look at your son, the world around me quiets and becomes still. The colors become brighter, and the air becomes sweeter. I’ve never met a man so compassionate and kind, so caring and loving.
All I want to do is wrap your son in my arms and shield him from all the world's ugliness. There is no greater death for me than dying protecting your son.”
Linda’s lips pulled back in the warmest smile.
“What mother could want anything more for their son?” She squeezed his hand once again before turning to face Cameron. “You’ve got a good one here. Never let this one go.”
“I don’t plan to,” Cameron answered, taking in the loving gaze of the man sitting across from him.
Cameron was so grateful that his mother was having a good day. It meant a lot to him for both of them to meet.