Chapter 1 #2
“Maybe he doesn’t really know how bad they are.
He’s probably used to getting those comments.
Most people think guys like us are weird,” Fallon said absently, playing with Gage’s fingers.
He dragged his own fingertips toward Gage’s palm, then back out again, stalling when he found a callus and sweeping over the smoother parts of his palm.
The sensation was overwhelmingly soothing for Gage, who almost closed his eyes. “And you know we are.”
“I like your kind of weird,” Gage murmured with a small snort.
Fallon let out a small laugh. “Yeah. It can be charming. But it can also be annoying as hell. I’ve definitely seen the way my brothers’ eyes glaze over when I start going off about religious history.
Or photography. And Frankie swears he doesn’t mind when I get weird about food, but I know he does.
We used to be so broke, and sometimes I’d have to throw away an entire meal, and…
and I know the pressure that put on him.
I wished every night I could change who I was just to make things easier for him. ”
“I bet he’s glad you couldn’t,” Gage said, spreading his fingers wider when Fallon pushed his own between them. He didn’t hold Gage’s hand. He kept stroking the sensitive skin at the joins.
“You’re probably right. But I also know that if I had a choice to be an easier kid for him, I would have done it.” Fallon shrugged, his eyes big and owlish behind his thick lenses. “If you want to stay here tonight with your friends—”
“Oh, I fucking don’t. These people have shown me repeatedly they’re not my friends.
D&D is a huge part of my life. It has been since I was thirteen.
I got diagnosed with ADHD, and I struggled to adapt to the meds…
” Gage trailed off. “I was so angry all the time, and it gave me an outlet. But it’s not worth clinging to this fucking group when they’re going to be such massive, gaping assholes. ”
“Terrible mental image,” Fallon said, wrinkling his nose.
Gage couldn’t disagree. “There are other people out there. Better people. It’s hard to find them in a small town, but I’m not going to compromise my morals or my friends just because something’s difficult.”
“Do you want to go back to your place, and you can show me all the D&D stuff?” Fallon asked.
Gage blinked at him. “Oh. Um…yeah, actually. That could be fun. But it also might be boring.”
“It won’t be,” Fallon said, sounding so damn sure of himself. Then he let Gage go and walked to his car, tugging on the handle until Gage collected himself enough to push the button and pop the lock.
The night was not going where he expected. But, as he let himself feel the echo of Fallon’s fingers against his palm, he was pretty sure that wasn’t a bad thing.
He didn’t mean to be overly quiet or lost in his thoughts, but Gage had a bad habit of zoning out whenever the room got quiet. And Fallon was, unfortunately, a very quiet person when he wanted to be.
The problem was, Gage was only just starting to process everything he’d gone through over the last two years.
The trauma of what had happened to him was complicated by the fact that he didn’t remember it.
He didn’t know whether or not he had a right to feel upset about his assault, considering other people had to be awake for their living nightmare.
His therapist, his friends, and his family all said that was bullshit—that it wasn’t some kind of trauma Olympics that anyone was trying to win—but that didn’t erase his constant questioning.
His therapist told him that was normal too, and that was when he decided normalcy sucked.
For the moment, he was grateful for the people in his life keeping him distracted from all the bullshit, but in the quiet moments, even when he had people over to his place, he couldn’t stop thinking.
He was on a knife’s edge, waiting for the paternity test results. Waiting for some kind of concrete fact about whether or not Jonny and Alayna were lying.
The results were late now—by three days—and it was making him feel sick. He’d been checking his phone obsessively, which was why he’d invited Fallon out in the first place, but now the other man was perusing his figurine shelves, muttering to himself but not talking to Gage at all.
Which left him to his thoughts.
“Did you make them?”
Gage blinked when he realized Fallon was asking him a question. “Hmm?”
Fallon tapped the glass with a blunt fingernail. “These? Did you make them?”
“Oh. No. I don’t even paint them. I’ve done a few, but usually they come out worse than a kindergartner high on Pixy Stix would do. I buy sets from game shops.”
“I’m not creative like that either,” Fallon said softly, his fingers dancing at his sides. “I tried to learn to paint once, but my brain doesn’t gel with the whole perspective thing. At least, not outside of my camera lens. I did some abstract paintings for a while, but I didn’t like it.”
“You’re the one who covered my dad in paint, right?”
Fallon blushed, his cheeks burning pink. “Uh. Yeah.”
“You thought he was hot, huh?”
Fallon tipped his face toward the ground. “I promise I was a total professional.” Shit. His voice was shaking. Gage felt like a complete asshole and rushed over, grabbing his arm.
“Oh my God. I didn’t mean it like that. Everyone thinks my dad’s hot. It’s actually super annoying to be compared to him all the time, especially because we’re not biologically related.”
Fallon’s gaze lifted. “You’re adopted?”
“It’s a whole, complicated thing, but yeah.
My mom left when I was a baby, and then my uncle and my dad’s best friend moved in to help take care of me until he got his shit together.
It, uh, it took a while.” Gage didn’t like thinking about those fractured memories of his childhood either.
He had been mad at his dad for a long time.
It had been a quiet anger he’d kept to himself because he knew it wasn’t his dad’s fault.
But that didn’t erase the pain he felt every time his dad shut down.
“Anyway,” Gage said. “Sorry to be a bummer.”
Fallon grinned, his ears faintly pink. “You’re not a bummer. Do people tell you that a lot?”
Gage laughed and shook his head. “No. Self-deprecation, I guess?”
Humming, Fallon glanced to his left. “Is it super rude if I ask to use your bathroom in the middle of this conversation?”
“Um. No.” Gage frowned. “Is that a serious question?”
Fallon’s cheeks bloomed bright red. “Yeah, sorry. Sometimes I think the things I do are normal, and then I offend the people I’m with, so then I ask, and then they think I’m weird. But I’d rather be weird than offensive, so…” he babbled.
Gage reached out and grabbed his hand. Fallon went stiff for a second, then leaned in, and his fingers went soft against Gage’s. “You’re not being weird or offensive. I don’t care if you ask. It won’t bother me even if I’m mid-sentence.”
Fallon took a breath, then said, “I’ll relax more when I know you better.”
Gage grinned and let him go. “I figured. Bathroom’s through my bedroom. You can look around. Snoop in my drawers. Use my lotion. I won’t care.”
Fallon opened his mouth, then seemed to realize Gage was joking, and his mouth settled into a small smile. “I’ll make sure to rearrange all of your socks.”
Gage felt a small surge of triumph that he’d loosened Fallon up enough to make a joke. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, but Gage knew he must be going through it after everything his shit-for-brains ex did to him, and that was visible in the tension he was carrying.
He almost wanted to offer the poor man a massage, but he had no idea what his tolerance level was for being touched. Lucas liked it. He thrived on it. But he’d met quite a few people who couldn’t stand it at all.
Gage was taking risks already by holding his hand, but he was starting to know Fallon better. And what he saw, he liked. It was a terrifying place to be because he wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship. He wasn’t even sure he was ready to let a new friend in.
But with Fallon, it felt different.
It felt…
BZZT BZZT! BZZT BZZT!
Gage frowned. No one called him. Everyone texted. Unless it was Lucas with an emergency or…
His heart leapt into his throat as he grabbed his phone off the table and stared at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number, which made the whole thing worse. For a split second, he felt like a small child and wanted to be back at home with his dads and his uncles around him.
He hit the button and pressed the phone to his ear. “Yeah? Sorry, I mean, hello?”
“Gage.” He immediately recognized the voice of his lawyer—the guy his dad had hired to help with the whole paternity mess.
“Hey, Blake.”
“How are you?”
Gage took in a shaking breath. “Shitting my pants here, dude. I don’t want to make small talk. Can you just tell me if the results are in?”
“The results in. They’re negative. Ninety-nine point nine percent chance that the baby’s not yours.”
He leaned forward, a wave of nausea hitting him as he stared at his shoes. The floor looked like it was moving for a second, and then the world righted itself. He swallowed, then leaned back against the cushions.
“You still there?”
“Yeah, I…give me a sec?”
“Of course.” Blake went quiet, and the only sound was the gentle wheeze from Gage’s tight lungs.
It took nearly a full minute for him to be able to breathe again. “So it’s over?”
“Unless you don’t want to pursue charges of assault,” Blake said. “If not, it can be over.”
“Do I have time to think about that?”
“You have some time. Not decades, but yeah.”
“And if I choose not to, will that make me a terrible person?”
“No,” Blake said quietly, “I’ve done this more times than I want to. Each case is different. Unique,” he clarified. “Everyone has their own journey, and everyone processes their trauma in their own way. It will not make you a bad person if you choose to do nothing.”
Gage let out a thready laugh. “You knew that question was coming, didn’t you?”