He blinked at me with wide eyes.
“Check yer sugar levels,” I ordered, worry for him gnawing at me.
He pouted but scooted back, pulling up his shirt to look at his insulin pump. Next, he took out his phone and swiped around until he had an app open. He hummed, then shrugged when he turned his attention to me. “The pump is working. I don’t wear a continuous glucose monitor, but I would know if something was going wonky because I would be feeling like crap. I’m fine.”
With Fallon,finewas not always what I would consider fine. I frowned at him when he grinned. He shifted in closer again and laid his hands on my hips. His breath tickled my mouth.
“I liked that kiss.” His pink tongue swiped across his lips. “How about I give you a hummer, too?”
“What?”
“A hummer.” He laughed and raised his fist to his mouth, mimicking a blowjob with his tongue in his cheek. “It’s when you put your dick in—”
“Stop it,” I snapped, making him snicker harder. I glared.
He winked and turned his head. “Hey, Vail!” he shouted, loud enough to wake the dead. He took a deep breath. “Do you mind if I give Rowen a hummer?”
“Fallon.” I gritted my teeth, blood rushing south, straight to my cock. My fingertips tingled at the thought of getting Fallon on his knees and feeding him my dick, and it frustrated me because if I was getting into this with him, I wanted to be different from Cillian. I wasn’t going to use him for sexual favors, and I wanted to make sure we were on the same wavelength. Yet, I didn’t wait for Vail, did I? What made Fallon different? Maybe I’d come to care about him in the time I’d been with Vail.
“No, but not right now.” Vail’s voice traveled down the stairs. “I’m talking to Aspen, and I want to watch. Come say hi.”
Fallon groaned and grumbled as he hopped to his feet and headed toward the steps. He turned back to me and pointed. “Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be back.”
I snorted and couldn’t help but grin. “Just go talk to Aspen. I’ll make us lunch.”
I followed him to the stairs to watch him, and he ran so fast up the steps that he nearly tripped on one. Throwing an embarrassed smile over his shoulder, he laughed and continued to the top. I watched him until he disappeared, an unexplainable warmth settling in my chest. It wasn’t that IlovedFallon, but I did care a lot about him. He was one of us now, and I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. If Cillian heard my thoughts, he would tell me it was corny as feck, and that was why we were so different. I lived for emotions, craved feelings, while Cillian ran from them like a scared child would a monster.
I sighed, heading toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I pushed away all my ideas of Fallon and focused on the task at hand—making lunch. I grabbed salad ingredients and placed them on the island. Fallon hated eating healthy, since Cillian had him on a strict diet before he left, but he would have to do better sooner rather than later with his diabetes. Like Vail with his ADHD, Fallon needed someone to take care of him. They weren’t children, but Fallon had never had anyone look after him the way we were. His family was a bunch of arseholes, and they weren’t as Catholic as they claimed. Even Father Shay had some choice words to say about the ruler of the Maher clan; although, he said it a lot nicer than I would.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I began to chop lettuce, and I pulled it out to check it.
Eamon: You busy today?
I frowned at his weird question. Eamon didn’t make it a habit to visit us. We got along just fine, but he was always hung up with Company business and his girlfriend. While Cillian and I handled the nitty-gritty, Eamon was more of a paperwork man and skipped the dangerous parts, which I was thankful for. I never wanted him to be gunned down.
Rowen: Spending time with Fallon and Vail. Why?
It didn’t take long before he responded.
Eamon: Can I call you?
I chose to call him instead. He answered after a few rings.
“Hey.” Eamon’s cheerful voice had me suspicious. He soundedtoohappy.
“What are ye up to?” I asked, and he laughed, clearly amused by my obvious apprehension. I liked the relationship I had with Eamon, though. Unlike with Cillian, there was no tension.
“I just wanted to talk. Is that so bad?”
Holding the phone between my shoulder and ear, I grabbed a knife and continued with my slicing as I stuck ingredients into the salad bowl, including green onion, crispy bacon, and a carrot. “Aye. Ye only call when ye want something. So, what is it?”
“Aw, gobshite.” His laughter grew louder. “Ain’t I allowed to talk to ye anymore?”
“Téightrasna ort féin.” I mentally applauded myself as I began to chop two ripe tomatoes. I sliced too closely to my finger at one point, nearly taking the tip off, and I winced, forcing myself to pay better attention. His chuckles turned into gasps of pain because the laughter became too much. I grinned, shaking my head. It wasn’t often we spoke Gaelic, or the little of it we knew, but that was one saying Daideó Jack had loved teaching us. The first time we’d used it in front of Cillian’s ma, she’d clipped Cillian and me over the ears and dragged us to church.
“Aren’t ye a man of God, Rowen? A good bloke like ye shouldn’t tell me to go feck meself, should ye?” He could barely get his words out, and I snickered.
“A good man like me wouldn’t be putting up with a bloke like ye, would I?” I threw the tomatoes into the bowl alongside the ingredients I’d already added.
