Chapter 7 #2
“I guess he turned up at Fa—at his…can we come up with a code name?”
Evan chuckled. “Go for it.”
“Let’s call him Fred.” It was close enough he probably wouldn’t fuck up. “Asshole turned up at Fred’s house to talk the same night Fred and I…you know. Had our little thing.”
“I see.”
“They had a few drinks and…hooked up.”
“You feel betrayed?”
Gage blinked. “What? No. I mean, we’re not boyfriends. We weren’t even really friends friends back then.”
“So the issue?”
“Right. Ah.” Gage swallowed heavily. “He got pregnant from it. He’s been on T for years, but it’s not, like, birth control, so he wasn’t expecting it, but shit does happen.”
“I’m aware. That’s how my first niece came into the world,” Evan said.
Gage’s jaw snapped shut. Then he took a deep breath in through his nose. “Oh. Did your brother—sorry,” he said quickly. “That’s none of my business.”
Evan stood up and moved to the couch, sitting one space away from Gage. “You can ask. Adrian is really open about his journey to becoming a dad, and he’s shared a lot with me. He won’t mind if I give some details.”
Gage bowed his head. “He was married?”
“He and his partner are not married, but they were together.”
“Did he think about, you know, not having the baby?”
“He did.” Evan was quiet for a beat. “Their original family plan was for surrogacy, but they decided to go forward this one time.”
“But other times…”
“They had children by other means,” Evan said.
Gage knew not to push for more details about someone he didn’t know personally. “Fa—Fred,” he corrected quickly, “isn’t sure what he wants other than he doesn’t want his ex to know.” He hesitated. “I’m not sure if that’s fair, but if a guy hit me, I wouldn’t want to share a kid with him either.”
“That will also work in his favor if the guy does find out since he’s been convicted of a violent crime,” Evan said. “This is not legal advice, by the way. I am so not a custody lawyer.”
Gage managed a small smile as he twisted his fingers into the glob he was holding. “Yeah, no. I know. But I just…it’s kind of getting to the point of no return with the whole—whole, um.” He fumbled with the word. “Pregnancy thing. And I don’t know how to navigate that either.”
Evan tilted his head to the side. “Meaning what?”
“I don’t know how to talk about it or address it or anything. I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me to ask him what’s comfortable for him.”
Evan grinned. “I am.”
“I think I’m just terrified of accidentally hurting him, you know?
I don’t want to make him feel dysphoric or anything.
And it feels like everything I read online is so…
woman-centric.” Gage bowed his head. “He hasn’t been to see a doctor either.
And I think he might be scared of going to a women’s clinic. ”
“That’s understandable.” Evan stood up and walked over to his desk, holding up a finger before picking up his phone. “I’m going to ask my brother about the clinic he went to. It was queer focused.”
Gage brightened. “Oh. Yeah?”
“Adrian dealt with a lot during his pregnancy. I mean a lot. There were days he was happy, and days he was not. But he had a support system, so I think the best thing you can do for Fred is be there. Even when it’s hard.
And maybe encourage him to talk to other people in his life who care about him. ”
That was easier said than done, but at least it gave Gage a starting point.
“Thank you.”
Evan smiled. “Of course. And I’m texting you the clinic information now.”
“Sorry to take up your day with this sort of thing. I know it’s not really therapy-worthy, but…”
Evan met his gaze, and Gage shut his mouth. “You and I both know there’s no such thing as not therapy-worthy. If you’re struggling, that’s what I’m here for.”
“Yeah,” Gage breathed out.
Evan walked back over and sat down in his chair again. “What about the rest? Is any of this deflecting from how it felt to be with someone again after your assault?”
Gage met his gaze. “Not deflecting. I keep waiting for it to feel bad again, you know? Like some kind of latent response. But Fred just…” He fell silent, and Evan waited patiently for him to finish. “He makes me feel safe. Is that normal?”
“Normal is relative,” Evan said, like he did every time Gage asked.
“But it’s common. Everyone has a safe space, Gage.
Sometimes it’s a room. Sometimes it’s a T-shirt or a pair of sweats.
And sometimes it’s a person. It’s okay to lean on that, so long as you’re not using it as a crutch to avoid dealing with the trauma. ”
That scared him because what if he didn’t know that was what he was doing? What if he put all this emotional responsibility on Fallon without realizing it?
“Maybe we can address that next time,” he said.
Evan laughed. “Fair enough. Now. Any fun rescue stories to tell me before the session is up?”
Gage grinned. “Last week, there was a guy who got his fist stuck in a Pringles can.”
“I’ve seen that on TikTok before,” Evan said.
Gage’s smile widened. “Oh, I bet you haven’t seen this one. Wait until I tell you what he was holding in his hand.”
Not for the first time, Gage was profoundly aware that at some point, the twenty-four-hour shifts were going to break him. He was not built for it. He felt all upside down and inside out, and his meds didn’t seem to work as well when he wasn’t sleeping regularly in his bed.
And during his three-day-off stretches, he only just started to regulate before he was back again.
But for now, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. At some point, he wanted to go back to school. He wanted to finish his degree and figure out what he was supposed to be doing with his life. He just didn’t know when he was going to feel ready.
He set that thought aside as he walked to his door, and just as he turned his key, Fallon’s door opened and he poked his head out. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his eyes were red-rimmed.
Gage’s heart began to pound in his chest. “What happened?”
“Can I come over?”
Gage stepped aside and gestured through the door, and Fallon shuffled over, brushing their shoulders together as he passed. Gage took a deep breath of his scent—the soft, earthy lavender from his soap—and he let that soothe him because in spite of his exhaustion, he would go to war if he had to.
He’d rip someone’s head off if Fallon so much as hinted that’s what he needed.
Which was maybe a bit much.
Gage dropped his things in the foyer, then followed Fallon into the living room.
His friend was already getting comfortable in the nest Gage never put away, and he joined him, profoundly aware he still smelled like the burning rubber smoke from the car fire they’d put out a couple of hours before his shift was over.
“Were you hurt today?” Fallon asked.
Gage frowned. “Hurt?”
“There was a fire. I can smell it.”
“Car fire. No passengers. But the smoke was nasty.” He leaned his head back against the couch cushion and willed his eyes to stay open. “That rubber smell takes forever to go away.”
Fallon hummed softly. “You look tired. If you want me to go—”
Gage reached out and cupped his jaw, stroking his thumb over Fallon’s rough, short, clipped beard. “I want you to tell me why you were crying.”
“It’s…” He let out a puff of air. “I think I want to keep the baby.” His hand drifted down to his stomach.
Gage couldn’t see it with the blanket on him, but he noticed the movement.
“But that means I have to tell Frankie and Fen. And everyone else. And I’m going to need to take time off from my job, which I can’t afford.
And people might ask about—about everything.
And Charlie will probably find out.” He went quiet again for a beat.
“I have to see a doctor and…and then I have to be a dad.”
Gage gave him a moment, then reached out and took him by the chin, tilting his head up. He didn’t ask for eye contact. Fallon didn’t seem to struggle with that much, but Gage also wasn’t going to demand it. He knew his friend was listening.
“I need to tell you something.”
Fallon squared his shoulders like he was bracing himself. “Okay.”
“I spoke to my therapist about you. I didn’t tell anyone we knew, but it was…it was weighing on me. Hard. I needed to talk to someone.”
“Oh God,” Fallon whispered. Gage felt a surge of panic, like maybe he’d really fucked up. Then Fallon looked at him. “I’m so sorry. I should have never asked you to do that.”
“No, sweetheart,” Gage said, the word tumbling from his lips. Fallon made a startled noise, but Gage couldn’t bring himself to apologize or take it back. “I just didn’t want you to be upset with me for telling someone.”
“It’s not your burden.”
“It is. I took it on willingly. But I have news. Something good, I think.” He dropped his hand to his side and pushed his feet into the floor so he could dig into his pocket for his phone. “My therapist has a brother who’s trans. He had a baby too.”
Fallon’s brows flew up. “Yeah?”
“Yep. He’s local. There’s a clinic not too far from here—like maybe an hour out? They’re queer focused and do trans pregnancies.”
Fallon sucked in a breath, but he said nothing.
“I can go with. Um. If you don’t want to go alone—”
“I don’t want to go alone,” Fallon murmured very softly. “This isn’t your problem, but…that would be nice.”
Gage took a breath, then reached under the blankets and found Fallon’s hands. He squeezed them tight. “Nothing about you is a problem. My therapist reminded me today how important a support system is. And I don’t want you to be so caught up in worrying what will happen that you forget about yours.”
Fallon stared at him, wide-eyed, then bowed his head. “Thanks.”
Gage tugged him close until he was wrapped around him, and when he felt Fallon go boneless, a sense of relief rushed through him. He didn’t know what this was or what it could be. He was too afraid to hope or speculate.
But this?
He’d take it.
Anytime.