He’d already been more active on his once-defunct video channel, the one that’d first launched his career. And while TMZ hadn’t caught up with us yet, the buzz around where Fallon Gentry was producing his music, and the new, modern sound he was creating—a catchy blend of Southern rock and bluesy-country—already had the channel growing exponentially. It only took one new remix of “Whiskey Girl,” a duet where we shared the haunting lyrics of his hit song, to go viral, and attention grew. And then the largest streaming channel came callin’, offerin’ a one-night unplugged performance featuring Fallon that they wanted to film and release to the masses. Fallon had the chance to go worldwide again.
And after so many sleepless nights of considering all the possibilities, we finally said yes.
Fallon insisted that we sing “Whiskey Girl” together, and even asked if I’d perform a few of my own songs alongside him, along with his other crowd favorites. He went from being a Nashville has-been to building his own career from the ground up, exactly how he wanted it.
He inspired me more every day.
His sister was glad he was finally settled, her updating of his fly-by-night tour schedule on the website not needed anymore because he was no longer doing public gigs. And I could update the website now if required anyway.
But the true gift, the one that put all else to shame, was watching him be a dad to Jack.
Calvin had been generous, allowing Jack to move back and forth between our homes from day one.
Jack had now taken to callin’ me Mom, which slayed my heart with so many happy tears I’d nearly broken down in front of the poor kid, and Fallon Pa, which made me laugh more every time he said it.
And the way Fallon’s eyes crinkled at the corners made me think he liked it too.
It took weeks for us to truly settle into our new roles as parents, being good role models and watching our words, adapting to the idea that something made up of equal parts of us walked around outside of our bodies every day.
I ’didn’t think either of us had ever felt so vulnerable, so responsible, and so overwhelmed with love to get the chance.
We also had to make peace with the time we’d lost with our sweet boy, Fallon taking an especially long time to adjust. But the more he lost himself in the music, the more his true feelings seemed to come out in the lyrics.
Staying busy and creating what he loved was therapy, more than whiskey ever had been, and he was finally in a good enough place to see the light.
After dinner, once we’d walked Jack home and we were both wandering the hallways of our all-too-often empty house, Fallon caught up with me, wrapping me in his arms from behind and guiding me out into the silver moonlight of our back porch.
I looked up across the fields and forests that surrounded our little neighborhood, and knowing the same moon cast light a few houses down on our son, tucked in and well-loved, I felt truly at peace.
I wasn’t running, I wasn’t chasing, I wasn’t even searching for Fallon. I could finally stop, pause, enjoy, and just be.
“I think it’s time we expand this little family we’ve built,” he whispered at my ear, sending a pleasurable chill running down my spine.
I turned up my lips, my hands holding his and bringing them to my belly. “We already have, Gentry.”
His muscles stiffened, arms spinning me to assess my face head on. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
I nodded, warm tears pooling at my eyelashes as I thought of all the love we had to give, how great a brother Jack would be, the life we’d build in Landry, makin’ music and bein’ free. Finally free of the past, of anyone else’s expectations, of everything.
“I was thinkin’ the name Jett.” I pressed a kiss to his inked knuckle. “Or Presley.”
Happiness shot through Fallon as he hoisted me in his arms, spinning me in circles while still managing to hold me gently.
“I don’t give a shit what we call it. You just made me the happiest man alive, Augusta Belle.”
I giggled, his beard tickling across the hot skin at my chest.
That beard had gotten me in trouble all those weeks ago.
I just couldn’t say no to him. His overprotective nature was so attuned to me, the way his hand hovered at my waist as we stood in line, how he pulled out my chair when we sat down for dinner, how he tucked me into bed with such care each night, as if he wanted to memorize every moment we had together.
Fallon, from the moment we’d met, had never stopped making me feel special.
“Swear, Augusta Belle, still surprisin’ me.” He shook his head, catching my lips with his.
I moaned, hands working at the nape of his neck as sparks of desire ran through my veins.
“I think this is the part where you finally say yes to that question I’ve been askin’.”
