Naked Gardening Day Box Set

Chapter 4

Chapter 4Cam stared in horror. They’d gotten a call about one of their families being in the hospital, and he’d rushed over. The boy he’d advised be returned to his parents a couple of weeks back was lying on the hospital bed with a bruise at the side of his head and an arm in a cast.

“What happened?” He stared at the nurse checking on him.

She frowned. “Who are you?”

Camden winced and introduced himself. The boy had a concussion and a broken arm. It was a bit unclear how it had happened, but the mother had told the police the boy’s father had hit the boy and then pushed him into a wall.

Cam sank down on a chair next to the hospital bed and cradled his head in his hands. What had he done?

He sat by the boy for several hours. The nurse gave him sympathetic smiles while he rang around and arranged for the boy to be taken back into foster care.

This was his fault.

He was the one who had the most contact with the family. He had claimed they were ready to care for their child again. His throat was closing up, and he removed his glasses to rub his eyes to prevent tears from forming.

“Camden.” Lori, his co-worker and head of department, squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll take it from here.”

Cam shook his head, but she nodded before he could utter a protest.

“It’s already late in the afternoon. I’ll stay with him until he’s ready to be moved.” She squeezed his shoulder again. “Go home, pour yourself a glass of whiskey, and know this wasn’t your fault.”

“I advised—”

“And the judge and I made the final decision.”

“Yes, but I was the one in contact with them.”

She shook her head. “These things happen. He will be all right, and he’ll go back to the same family he lived in before we moved him. I’ve already spoken to them. He’s safe there, and it will all be familiar to him.”

“A boy was beaten.”

“Yes, and the man responsible will be sent to jail, and he’ll never have custody of his child again.”

Cam didn’t tell her she couldn’t promise that. Parents had the right to appeal. With a sigh, he got to his feet.

“You’ve done all you can, Cam.”

“Have I?” He should have advised against the parents getting custody, he should have fought to keep the boy in his foster home, but he hadn’t.

“You did what you believed was best for the family.”

“But not the boy.”

Instead of being annoyed, her face softened. “You did what you thought was best for the boy.”

He’d wanted him to have a real family, not be moved from home to home only to be shoved into group homes when he got older, but some parents weren’t fit to care for their children. He knew it, had lived it.

“Go home, Cam. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded and stroked a lock of hair from the boy’s forehead before heading out the door.

* * * *

Grayson turned the skewers in the brick barbecue oven. He and Ryan had built the brick oven several years ago, and he’d come here to cook for Granny a few times, but it hadn’t been often.

He should use it more.

He blew out a deep breath and took a sip of his beer. Life could be worse.

When he looked out over the garden beds, he spotted Camden walking among them. His shoulders were stiff and his hair a mess. Grayson smiled.

“Are you hungry?”

Camden jumped, and Grayson realized he hadn’t known he was there. How could he have missed the smoke from the fire? Cam shook his head.

“Get over here. You have to at least taste the roasted turnips. They’re from the garden.” Grayson was sick of turnips. He ate turnips several times a week. Not much longer now though. Everything was coming along nicely and this coming weekend he planned on planting the zucchini seedlings in the turnip bed.

Ryan’s sister had horses, and he’d been promised some manure that they were getting on Saturday morning. He’d add it to the beds and then transplant the zucchinis and pumpkins from the greenhouse.

Camden still hovered by the garden beds, so Grayson put the tongs down and walked to get him. “Come on. Have you eaten?”

The look Camden gave him stopped him in his tracks. His eyes were haunted and his lips a thin line.

“Come.” He whispered, fearing talking too loudly would scare him off. “Have a seat.” He guided Camden to the garden furniture by the brick oven, and gently pushed him down on a chair. “Beer?” Grayson had grabbed a six-pack from the fridge and held one up for him.

“Thanks.” Camden took it but didn’t pop the top.

Grayson hurried back into the kitchen for an extra plate and cutlery, a little spooked to see Cam looking so lost. He headed back out again and found Cam looking straight ahead with unseeing eyes.

“Here we go.” He set the plate in front of him and touched his shoulder. “The meat will be done in a few minutes.”

Camden turned wide blue eyes his way, and Grayson almost cursed.

“What happened?”

He shook his head.

“Is it confidential or something?”

“A boy I advised be taken out of foster care and be placed with his biological parents ended up in the hospital, beaten by his father.”

Grayson winced. “s**t, Cam. I’m sorry.”

He placed his hands on Camden’s shoulders and gently massaged them. First, Cam sat stiffly, then he took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped.

“There you go. Relax.” Grayson continued to knead the tense muscles, pushing away all thoughts of how it would be better if Camden removed his clothes. It would give Grayson better access.

He found an extra tense area and dug his thumb in.

“Oh God, right there.”

Grayson grinned but refrained from saying anything.

“Jeeze, I can’t remember the last time someone did this for me.” Cam took off his glasses and put them on the table before resting his head in his hands. Grayson kept the massage up until he was afraid he’d burned the meat on the skewers.

Reluctantly, he stepped away from Camden and went to grab the tongs. Cam kept his face hidden in his hands.

“Come on, get some food in you.” He grabbed Cam’s plate and placed two skewers on it. Then he pushed the roasted turnips toward him and held up the serving spoon. “Cam, dig in.” He nudged his elbow to get him to take the spoon.

Those blue eyes focused on him again. Grayson smiled. To say Cam looked better without his glasses would be wrong, but he looked…softer.

“Eat. It’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

“I don’t think it ever will feel better. I could have advised he should stay where he was. He was happy, lived with a good family who cared for him. Blood ties aren’t everything. But I also had a mother who did everything in her power to get her child back. The father too, though not with the same dedication. And we promised them. If you do this you can have your son back, if you go through this program, stay sober for this amount of time, talk to this therapist, and so on, and they did it all.”

“It’s not your fault, Cam. It’s the system.”

Cam shook his head. “I could have advised against it.”

“Was it your decision, no one else had a say?” Grayson had no idea how it worked. He wasn’t entirely sure what social workers did, at least not the kind Camden was.

“Everyone who’d worked with them made an evaluation, but what if it was my word that tipped the scale?”

Grayson shook his head. “Eat. Have a beer.”

“There’s a boy with a fractured arm and a concussion.”

“Whether you eat or not, get shitfaced or not, is not linked to him. He won’t feel any better or any worse no matter what you do. Eat.”

Camden glared at him, and Grayson was almost glad to see it, almost.

“You don’t know s**t, Grayson.”

“There you go, back to being the asshole I know and do my best to avoid. Now eat.” Grayson held in a sigh.

Cam huffed. “You’re the asshole, always snarling and want to destroy the garden.”

“Destroy the garden? I don’t want to destroy the garden.”

“It could be beautiful, but you’re gonna f**k it up with your disorganized ways.”

Grayson took a deep breath. He didn’t want to fight. “Have some food, Cam.”

“No wonder you haven’t gotten any further in life, always so undisciplined.”

Grayson curled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath. “Coffee? I’m going to put on some coffee.” He stormed off before he could say anything he’d regret. His conversations with Cam always seemed to end this way.

* * * *

Camden watched Grayson’s stiff back as he walked up the stairs and into the house and cursed. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the serving spoon in his hand and the plate Grayson had fixed him with grilled meat. He’d placed a small bowl with sugar snap peas next to the roasted turnips, and Cam assumed they were from the garden too.

Glancing at the house, he took a sugar snap and bit into it. It was crispy and sweet and might have been the best he’d ever had. He hadn’t grown up with a lot of vegetables, there had never been any money, and even if there had been, he couldn’t picture his mom browsing the fruit and veggie aisle.

He glanced at Grayson’s house again. How long did it take to put on some coffee? The food was getting cold. The roasted turnips looked tasty, and the meat was perfectly browned. The scents had his stomach rumbling, and he realized he’d missed lunch in his haste to get to the hospital.

Where the hell was Grayson? He looked at the meat on his plate, wanting to dig in, but…He got to his feet and grabbed his glasses as he walked toward Grayson’s house. He winced as he looked at the garden bed he’d claimed close to Grayson’s doorstep. Weeds, or he assumed they were weeds, were taking over.

He glanced at the bed next to it, one of Grayson’s, and it was chaotic. Tall plants grew in the middle, and instead of having plants in rows as normal people did, they were all over the place.

As he went up on the first step on the stairs, he noticed strawberry plants lining the edge of Frances’s rose bed and winced again. He’d been a little snippy when they’d divided the beds.

Grayson had left the front door open, but Cam wasn’t sure it was an invitation to enter. His heart beat uncomfortably fast as he crossed the threshold into the narrow hallway. “Grayson?”

He looked around. He hadn’t been inside the house since Frances had lived there, and he was surprised to see the walls had been painted—though he shouldn’t have been since Grayson was a painter. He’d always assumed Grayson was a slob, but the hallway was neat and clean, and it didn’t change as he proceeded into the kitchen.

The walls were a soft gray, and he frowned at the hardwood floor. Had there been a hardwood floor? The planks were wide and a little uneven which made him suspect they were old, and they had an almost grayish tone that fit the walls perfectly.

“Grayson?” It came out a whisper, and he froze as he spotted Grayson with a hanging head and his hands on the kitchen counter next to the coffee maker. It looked to be done—the pot was full and there were no sounds. Maybe he was waiting for the last drops to drip down. Cam rubbed his neck. “Grayson?”

He turned and looked at Camden, his face a blank mask. “It’s almost done.”

“Aren’t you gonna eat? The food is getting cold.”

He grunted and turned back to watch the coffee. Camden rolled his shoulders, the massage Grayson had given him had loosened some of the tension, but he wished he’d kept going. “The kitchen is nice; you’ve done a great job fixing it up. I love the color.”

“Yeah? I picked it by mistake, can’t read the labels. You know, too undisciplined to stay in school. I had my eyes set on a bright pink, but alas.” He reached for the same coffee carafe he had brought into the garden the day they’d divided the raised beds. There was no teasing tone, no smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Camden held his breath.

“Are you done eating?”

Camden slowly let the air out of his lungs. “No. I was waiting for you.”

With a huff, Grayson rounded the kitchen island and came out behind Camden. He headed toward the door, and Cam followed.

As soon as they reached the barbecue area, Grayson put the coffee down and reached for his beer. He took a swig then grabbed the tongs and took the skewers from Cam’s plate and put them back on the grill to heat. He then took the oven dish with the turnips and did the same before placing the remaining skewers next to it.

Camden took a deep breath. “Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

He didn’t believe him. “You’re something.”

“Hungry and tired.” Grayson didn’t look at him, and Cam wasn’t sure if he should push or leave him alone. They’d had a nice enough time until Grayson had stormed off. He flinched. Grayson had been nice, offered him food, and tried to alleviate his guilt.

“You’re angry because I’m not showing gratitude for how you’ve been treating me tonight?”

Grayson spun, his eyes wide in surprise. “For a therapist, you suck at reading emotions.”

“I’m not a therapist.”

Grayson nodded. “Good.”

What the hell did that mean? “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Grayson shook his head but placed a skewer on his plate. “See if it’s warm enough.”

Cam cut off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth, a second later he moaned. “This is divine.”

“It’s the marinade.” His voice was gruff, and he didn’t say anything more but added another couple of skewers on Camden’s plate. One more than the first time, he noted.

The tension was uncomfortable, but Cam had to admit it was the best meal he’d had in ages. He’d never pictured Grayson as someone who could cook.