Page 42 of Santino (The Camboy Network #4)

HAYDEN

“Denny! Tino!” Rhys waves his arm over his head as we step out of the train station in Staten Island.

My heart twinges a bit at Rhys calling Santino by his nickname. It means Rhys thinks of him as one of the guys, as part of our chosen family.

Rhys throws his arms around my neck in a big hug and I let myself sink into it for a moment.

I miss Rhys and the relationship we used to have.

I think I always will. But Dr. Tina says we’re entering a new stage in our friendship.

We might not spend as much time together as we used to, but there are other ways we can be close.

So I’ve been making a point of reaching out to Rhys more often and telling him what’s on my mind, even if we don’t see each other for a couple weeks at a time.

Rhys lets me go, then pulls Santino into an equally tight hug.

Santino hugs him back like they’ve known each other for years rather than months.

The two of them have kind of teamed up against me—in the nicest way possible.

They’re always giving each other updates on what’s happening with me and if one of them is having a hard time getting through because I’m too deep in the darkness, then the other one will try.

Although, the darkness hasn’t been as much of an issue lately.

It’s been three months since I started medication, and while I’m not a hundred percent back to my old self, I’m noticeably better than I was at my lowest point.

Dr. Tina says I might never be Old Hayden, though.

Old Hayden didn’t know what it’s like to have depression.

Old Hayden didn’t need to fight through any of that.

And, I guess she has a point… but I’m not giving up.

“Come on, our house is this way.” Rhys takes off down the street and Santino and I hurry to keep up.

“Angel’s at home. He’s so excited about having you guys over.

We don’t usually have guests because, you know, we live so far away.

So he only ever gets to cook for his family.

I swear, he’s been in the kitchen for like, two days straight. ”

I don’t know if Angel’s actually been in the kitchen that long, but I do know he’s been planning this meal for at least a week. I have a dozen messages on my phone from him to prove it.

“I told him you guys are cool and you’ll eat anything, but he really wants to impress you, Denny. Shh, don’t tell him I said that.” Rhys winks at me.

“You guys should totally have a cook-off!” Santino jumps in. “Like you both make a bunch of dishes and the rest of us can be the judges.”

I bump him with my shoulder. “You just want to eat all the food.”

“Hell yeah, I do!”

I laugh as gratitude and love fill my heart.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d find someone like Santino.

Someone who makes me smile and laugh, who wants to listen to me talk about all the random things I read in my books.

I can play video games with him or hang out at the park with him.

We talk late into the night, never running out of things to say.

Or we cuddle together in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Most days, I still don’t think I deserve him.

But that just makes me want to be a better man for him.

We flew out to California and spent a week with his family.

His sisters are exactly like they sound on the phone—really fun and supportive—and they welcomed me into their family without a second thought.

His dad is really chill too and I spent a lot of time helping him with the barbecue in the backyard.

His mom, though… she wasn’t bad. She was nice to me and all that, but I definitely felt like she was keeping me at arm’s length.

Santino, on the other hand, she barely let him leave her side.

She wouldn’t even come downstairs to say goodbye on the morning we left.

The house Rhys and Angel live in is a duplex. Angel’s mom and sister are in the downstairs apartment while Rhys and Angel are upstairs. The second the door opens, we can smell the mouthwatering aroma of home-cooked Italian food. Santino’s jaw drops and he practically drools.

“Teddy bear! We’re home!” Rhys takes our jackets and hangs them up on the hooks by the door, then leads the way into the kitchen.

It’s several degrees warmer in here. There are pots on every burner and the oven’s on too. Angel’s wearing a frilly maid-style apron I’m certain Rhys picked out for him.

He stops when we come in, a slightly alarmed look in his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, but I can’t tell if it’s because he’s embarrassed or because of the heat. “Oh, hi, um, I’m not ready yet.”

“That’s cool, man. Can we help with anything?” Santino asks. His knife skills have gotten pretty good in the past few months.

“Um…” Angel’s gaze darts frantically around the kitchen.

“Okay! How about let’s get you guys some drinks in the living room?” Rhys spins around and ushers us out. “See what I mean?” Rhys whispers under his breath.

Now I feel bad. This was supposed to be a simple dinner with friends. I didn’t mean for Angel to get all stressed trying to cook a fancy dinner. We could’ve gone out to eat. Rhys must see the guilt on my face because he immediately jumps on it.

“Hey! It’s all good! Totally not your fault. I told him to take it easy. This is totally on him.” Rhys goes over to a stocked mini-bar on a cart. “Denny, can you make us some Aperol spritz? I’ll go make sure Angel’s okay.”

“Sure.” I scan the cart, which has everything I need. “And let us know if we can help.”

Santino pulls out his phone as I start making the drinks. He shakes his head as his thumb swipes and swipes again. “This is wild. I got another hundred followers in the time it took us to get out here.”

Our first video went live a week after the documentary released and Santino’s brand-new social media accounts went from a couple hundred followers to thousands almost overnight. Fans love him, but then, I knew they would. What’s not to love?

We just filmed our third video yesterday and I almost didn’t need to take any of those pills.

My dick problem has gotten better as my depression has.

Sometimes I can get hard totally on my own, but it doesn’t always last as long as I want.

Baby steps, though. Every day is better than the day before and that’s all I can ask for.

I measure out prosecco for four glasses. “You need to turn off your notifications.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He slides his phone back into his pocket then gives me a hug from behind. “Thank you.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “For what?”

“Nothing. Everything. Just thank you for being you.”

My brain starts compiling reasons why he shouldn’t thank me. It makes a list of all the ways I’m a failure and haven’t lived up to expectations. But I cut off those thoughts, reminding myself that yes, I’ve failed before, but I’ve also succeeded.

I set down the bottle of prosecco and turn in his arms. “In that case, I should thank you too. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.”

Santino runs his fingers over my face like he’s remembering the shape of my features. “Then I’m really, really glad I found you when I did.”