“Over a year later, they started to contact me, trying to blackmail me with a video of it. The woman said I was the father of her baby from that night and that I had to pay them child support.”
“Fuck.” The word tumbled from his lips. It was the only thing that sounded right in that moment besides a visceral scream, and then…he didn’t really know. Slitting throats, maybe? The idea that someone had done that to Gage was…there were no words. None at all.
He’d never considered himself capable of violence, but now, there was no question.
“Anyway, I took a paternity test because my lawyer said it was probably bullshit. And it was.”
Something twinged in Fallon’s head. A memory of the night they were together. Gage crying on the couch. But he’d said it was good news.
“The night we?—”
“Yeah,” Gage murmured.
“That’s when you found out?”
He nodded. “Mm. The test came back that there wasn’t a chance I was the baby’s dad. I had a second test done to be sure, then I pressed charges against them. They took a plea deal for the assault and the attempted revenge porn shit.”
Fallon swallowed thickly. “A plea deal? Like Charlie?”
“Mhm.” Gage’s face did something complicated, and another wave of fresh guilt hit Fallon because fuck. He still couldn’t believe he’d done that.
“Hey,” Gage said. His hand searched under the blanket until it found Fallon’s, and he tangled their fingers together. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Doubt it.”
“You’re thinking about Charlie. About how, after everything, you and him had a night together.”
Fallon’s eyes narrowed. “Was I speaking aloud?”
“No.” Gage smiled softly. “I could see it on your face. And don’t, okay? Don’t be unkind to yourself about that.”
Fallon couldn’t look at him, so he laid his head back and closed his eyes. It was easier like this—watching the color bursts behind his closed lids. “I feel stupid.”
“I don’t like that word.”
“I know, but it’s true. I do. I wish there was a better word for it. I wish I…I wish I hadn’t wanted to.”
“We all do things we regret.” Gage stroked the inside of his wrist with the perfect pressure, and Fallon felt himself relax a bit more.
“Have you?”
Gage laughed. “So fucking many things. So many terrible, foolish, dipshit things. I don’t have time to list them all.”
Fallon tried for a smile, and he had no idea if he managed it. “Were you happy that baby wasn’t yours?”
“Yes,” Gage said without hesitation. “I feel bad for them. They don’t deserve shitty parents. None of us do. But if I take on the responsibility of a child—and I hope to one day—I want it to be with enthusiasm. And with joy. And I know some people could have navigated my situation and been fine with it, but Idon’t think I would have been that guy. I don’t think I’m that strong.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fallon—”
He opened his eyes. “Bullshit. That’s not a matter of weakness or strength. Not wanting a constant reminder of your trauma isn’t being weak.”
Gage said nothing, but he moved his thumb to Fallon’s palm and pressed hard before drawing over the lines etched into his skin. It felt even better. “That night with you was my first, you know.”
Fallon frowned. “First what?”
“Time with anyone. Since it happened,” he clarified. “I tried a couple times after. To forget. But I couldn’t do it. I got nauseous and had panic attacks. I dropped out of school and moved home because I couldn’t cope.”
