Chapter 5

As an adult, Cam had made the effort to get back in touch, not only out of love for his mother and a genuine affection for his relatives, but also as a way to connect with his heritage. He’d been born Camilo Mendoza Martin; his mother had spoken to him in Spanish when his dad wasn’t around, and she’d baked polvoronesfor him to bring to kindergarten on his birthday. Once she was gone, he was Cam Martin, ethnically ambiguous and alone.

Brandon didn’t understand, and Cam had stopped trying to explain. He wasn’t going to try again tonight. They were both irritable enough already. Cam decided to cut his losses and spend the rest of the evening soaking in the tub.

They didn’t speak again until bedtime. Cam had been curled up under the covers reading on his phone for an hour by the time Brandon had brushed his teeth and done his pre-bed pushups. He opened the bedroom window, and Cam shivered at the influx of frigid air.

“Can you please close the window?” Cam asked. “It’s freezing out.”