so.” He regarded first the detective then the agent. “He doesn’t know anything about the diary or whoever this Jace is.”
Mr. O’Hara rose, and Rogan encouraged Tate to do the same by clasping his elbow. Detective Sullivan ran his hand over the top of his head with a sigh then stood as well. He narrowed his eyes at Rogan then turned to Tate.
“If we think of anything else, we’ll be in touch.”
Mr. O’Hara nudged Tate as he leaned across the table, waving his business card to Detective Sullivan.
“My guess is you lost my last one? You know, since you contacted my client directly?”
Tate had already gotten an earful from his attorney about not contacting him before agreeing to go with the detectives. Yet another example of why he needed someone looking out for him. Not that he wasn’t enough of an adult to take responsibility for himself, but he’d been conditioned early on in the foster care system not to make his own decisions, to follow orders as they were given without question.
Tate mused that Cam must’ve been savvy enough to recognize that quality in him. He tried not to think about how maybe that had been his only worth to Cam. They’d never used the word love to describe their relationship, but Tate had always hoped that someday it would evolve into such a deep connection.
After some perfunctory goodbyes, he and Rogan found themselves outside the station. The late spring twilight signaled to Tate it had to be approaching eight o’clock. He’d been so flustered when the detectives had shown up at his apartment, that he’d left his cell behind. Fortunately, Detective Sullivan had known how to get hold of Rogan.
“So.” Rogan appeared nervous and Tate couldn’t imagine why. He shifted back and forth on his feet and gazed around the lot before he returned his attention to Tate. “Did you need a ride?”
Tate considered the question. Technically, yes he did. However, he’d been taking busses, cabs and Ubers all over the place since he’d been tossed out of his home. But that didn’t matter. He already knew the answer he’d give Rogan.
“Yeah, that would be great.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”
Rogan broke into a smile, his overall demeanor seeming more relaxed than it had been since he’d arrived at the precinct.
“Come on. I can’t wait to get you away from this place.”
Rogan gestured with a jerk of his head to follow his lead and a pang of disappointment hit Tate in his chest. He’d hoped that after Rogan had hugged him and held his hand in front of all those people, that maybe he’d still want to now that they were alone. Tate offered Rogan a smile and rushed to be by his side.
He’d take whatever closeness Rogan would allow.
Chapter Fourteen
Rogan couldn’t remember the last time he’d driven five miles below the speed limit. But somehow, putting off arriving back at Tate’s place and saying goodnight to him made driving like his grandma a given. Whatever was going on between him and Tate had taken hold and didn’t appear as if it would be letting go any time soon. Rogan had been rubbing his brow so much since they’d gotten into the truck, he wondered if he’d worn the skin clean away.
They should have a talk.
He glanced sideways at Tate, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as well. They hadn’t said much, and Rogan had turned Spotify on and chosen the alternative rock station he preferred at Tate’s insistence. Tate had then remarked that he enjoyed those songs too. Rogan had mused there was so much left to learn when it came to Tate.
Had Cam ever asked Tate’s opinions on important subjects? Or had he wondered what Tate’s favorite things were? From what little Rogan had gathered about the Daddy/boy lifestyle, Cam was supposed to have taken care of Tate’s every need. But what did that mean exactly?
Despite his intense curiosity and his natural investigative skills, he’d stopped short of diving down the Google rabbit hole. Not because he didn’t want to know every damn thing there was about the lifestyle because of Tate, but so he wouldn’t end up drowning in misleading information. Ideally, he would come to understand what a good Daddy was through getting to know Tate better.
He cleared his throat and went back to wearing away his skin. Asking himself why he’d need to be informed of the intricacies of proper