James's expression changes subtly, a flicker of surprise. He knows I'm talking about him, even if no one else does.
"Places like Rainbow Haven House don't provide shelter. They provide the possibility. They show kids who have been rejected for who they are that they're worthy of love, opportunity, and a future. They provide the foundation for someone to become their best self, even when the world tells them they're not good enough."
My voice wavers on the last word.Stop. Breathe. Okay, back under control.
"I know what it's like to feel like you're not meeting expectations. Most of us do. But I can't imagine what it's like tobe kicked out of your home and told that who you are makes you unlovable. These kids live that reality every day."
My gaze sweeps across the room. "So tonight, when considering which causes to support, I ask you to consider Rainbow Haven House. Think about giving these kids not a roof, but a chance. Consider what your support could mean to someone who has never had anyone in their corner."
Marcus is wiping away tears at the side of the stage. Several of the alumni are nodding. My father's smile has softened into something that you could almost believe is genuine.
"Thank you." There's nothing more I can say.
The applause is stronger this time, punctuated by enthusiastic cheers from the Delta Psi Omega contingent. As I descend from the stage, several people approach to shake my hand or pat my shoulder. President Wells looks pleased, whispering, "Well done, young man," as I pass him.
I search the crowd for James, but he's gone. My heart sinks. Was it too much? Too little? Too late?
Marcus intercepts me, his eyes still damp. "I don't know what to say," he tells me, gripping my hand in both of his. "The donation station is overflowing. People are writing checks I never thought possible."
"That's great," I'm honestly happy, but my eyes are busy scanning the room. "They needed to understand what Rainbow Haven means."
"He's over by the east exit," Marcus says knowingly. "I think he needed a minute."
"Thanks." I pat his shoulder before I try to slip out of the room.
I find James standing near a small balcony door, staring out at the night sky. He doesn't turn when I approach, though I know he hears me.
"That was quite a speech," he says, still looking out.
"I meant every word."
"I know." Now he turns to face me. "That's what makes it complicated."
It's a risk, but I take a step closer. "James, I?—"
"You found out about the recording editing, didn't you?" he interrupts.
"I knew before I had the proof, but yes, my father manipulated it to make it sound like you took his money. I should have known better. I should have trusted you."
"Yes, you should have," he agrees, but there's no anger in his tone, just tiredness. "But I also should have told you about my past. I keep so much locked away that sometimes I forget people can't read my mind."
"I want to know everything about you. Not because I don't trust you. Because I love you… I'm in love with you. And your past is part of what made you the man I fell in love with."
His face relaxes, but he doesn't say anything about what I told him, and my chest goes cold. “What did you say to your father? I saw you leave with him earlier."
"Told him to stay out of my personal life or I'd torpedo his campaign." A small smile appears. "Also threatened to have you sign my brothers up for fringe porn if they don't start being nicer to you."
James actually chokes on a laugh. "You didn't."
"I absolutely did."
"And he... agreed?"
"He didn't have much choice. It turns out I inherited his killer instincts and decided to use them for good instead of political gain."
James shakes his head, but he's smiling now. "You continue to surprise me, Caleb Huntington the Third."
"Is that a good thing?"
