“Talk to me,” Adele said softly.
“I think I’m still a little messy,” Gage admitted. “I don’t want to be. I…I want to look this guy I like in the face and tell him thatI can be a good boyfriend without the fear I’ll fuck it up just by being myself.”
Adele squeezed his hand, then tugged him into a side hug. Gage collapsed against his dad and breathed in the scent of the earthy shower gel Carlos always brought into the station locker room. “I think if everyone waited until they didn’t feel messy, no one would ever take a chance on love.”
“Do you ever think that maybe all y’all are just the exception to the rule?” Gage asked quietly. Yeah, all his uncles, and his dads, and even Lucas were messy as fuck. But they were also happy now. Only…what if he was going to be the odd man out? Aligned with the rest of the world, but not his family?
That felt a bit like how it felt being adopted.
“Or that I am,” he added.
“I can’t tell you if it’ll work out with this guy,” Adele said, and Gage could tell he desperately wanted to ask who it was. “I can’t tell you if he can handle messy. Or if you can handle his complications. But you’ll probably regret it if you don’t try.”
“Would you have said that to me about Lucas if I hadn’t been a teenager?” Gage asked.
Adele sighed and shook his head. “No. Sometimes it’s worth falling in love with your best friend. Sometimes, it’s not.”
It wasn’t like Gage wanted to argue. Lucas wouldn’t have been a fraction as happy with him as he was with Frankie. Gage could never live up to that. And he didn’t want to have to live up to anything. He didn’t want to change parts of himself to become perfect for someone else.
He wanted to be loved as he was. For who he was.
He had no idea if he could be that for Fallon—or if Fallon could be that for him. But something about the other man felt different than anyone Lucas had ever dated or known. With Fallon, even stepping into something that scared the shit out of him, he felt safe.
And that had to mean something.
“I just?—”
He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. A call came through, and Adele shot to his feet, giving Gage an apologetic look. “Unless you want to clock in and earn some OT?—”
“I’m beat. But thank you.” He snagged a hug before Adele jogged out of the office, and he took his time, waiting for the truck to roll out before he made his way downstairs and out onto the street.
He didn’t feel better. He didn’t feel unburdened. He still had no idea what Fallon might need from him or how to give it when he did learn.
CHAPTER SIX
FALLON
It was justpast ten when he was brave enough to roll out of bed, and by the time he had showered, put on clothes that didn’t come from the bottom of his laundry basket, and shoveled a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich in his face, it was nearly noon. And Gage still wasn’t back.
Fallon hadn’t heard him come into his own apartment and couldn’t hear anyone moving around. It meant Gage either wasn’t home yet or was avoiding him. He wanted to believe it was the former, but he deserved the latter. After sleeping with Charlie, Fallon couldn’t face Gage because of the guilt about what he’d done. About what Gage might think about him if he knew what Fallon had chosen to do with the person who’d hurt both him and Lucas.
And then it got worse after he had taken a piss on the white stick and it came back with a fucking plus sign.
He stopped calling Frankie, stopped spending the night at Fenton’s, and hired a moving company after signing his lease. He could still hear how hurt Frankie had sounded when he told him what he was up to, and the guilt was overwhelming, but he wasn’t ready to face him.
Frankie and Fenton would have opinions. They would try and give him advice.
They’d get in his head one way or the other, and he wouldn’t be able to think straight. As it was, going off his testosterone and the new surge of hormones coursing through his body was already leaving him a foggy mess. He was fucking up during photoshoots and doing his best to fix it before he pissed off his clients.
He couldn’t afford to lose work. He had very little savings and no backup career plan. He couldn’t risk his reputation. He just also didn’t know how he could do this and not have it be a fuckingthing.
Not everyone knew he was trans, but they’d know something was up if the dude with the short beard and flat chest turned up to a shoot with a round stomach. He didn’t want to have to explain himself.
Fuck. He didn’t want to do this at all.
At least, not right now.
He’d talked to his therapist about it years ago, when Frankie offered to pay for surgery. He’d been freaked-out by the offer and panicked, working himself up so badly he’d thrown up after. He didn’t blame his brother, of course.
