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I should’ve told someone at camp. They might wonder why he’s yawning.

Snagging my phone, I debated the best way to deal with the situation.

Call Jai.

Before I could talk myself out of the idea, I searched in my contacts for the number I’d entered when I first received the welcome email.

“Pride Camp. This is Jai Prasad. How may I help you?”

“Hey, Jai, this is Demetrius Fulton. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Keegan’s dad.”

“I remember. How can I help?”

Is it my imagination, or did his voice just go softer? Does he remember me from all those years ago?“Uh, I forgot to tell you…and Grey…that Keegan was up most of last night stressing. He, uh, didn’t get much sleep. He napped on the drive out, but I think that was from exhaustion. If he’s a little listless—which happens when he’s tired—he might appear bored.”

Jai chuckled softly. “He mentioned his crappy night to Grey. He’s taking a nap while the other campers settle in. We’ll wake him for lunch, which is coming up shortly. Would you like me to call you after lunch and let you know how he’s doing?”

No judgement or ridicule over my concern—just a clear understanding.

“That would be amazing. I just…”

“I understand. I’ve spent a number of years as a counselor—both for LGBTQ kids as well as for special-needs ones. Most parents are protective. How can you not be?”

“I appreciate you understanding. They’ve just lost so much, and I want him to know I’m here for him. I mean, I’m really hoping he can make it the entire two weeks, but if his stress level is too high, then maybe—”

“Demetrius?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we play it by ear? See how each day goes. Keep my number close and call when you need assurances.”

“I might need them more than he does.”

“That’s entirely possible.” Jai chuckled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m always okay.” Said with more bravado than I felt. Exposing my underbelly with regard to my children? In a heartbeat. For anything else? No. I had to be the strong one.

“All right. Have a good afternoon, Demetrius.”

I liked the sound of my name off his lips. “I’m having lunch at Fifties.”

“Best burgers in Mission City.”

“That’s the rumor. Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

I didn’t want to hang up. I wanted to keep talking to him. To make him laugh. To see if I could tease him the way I used to.

But I wouldn’t. He was working—I needed to respect that.

“Thanks again.”

“My pleasure.”

In the end, I disconnected.

Chapter Three