Gage felt his heart hammer against his ribs. “I like that word. I really like being your boyfriend.”
“I like being yours,” Fallon said.
And for that, Gage kissed him again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FALLON
The next monthpassed easier now that he felt like he had permission to detach from the whole growing a human inside his body thing. There were moments he couldn’t, of course. Like when the baby kicked or when he was puking his guts out because Gage burned a little bit of cheese when making grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. Or when he had to visit the doctor and see his little mango on the fuzzy screen.
But he was given reprieve for a while—allowed to still feel like himself. Like he wasn’t losing any part of himself by doing this. He wasn’t taking a step back or creeping into the closet, or changing a fundamental part of his identity.
And Frankie and Fenton seemed to sense that about him and didn’t ask questions. They listened when he talked, and they were kind with him, but not pushy. It was a reminder that even though they’d come from the shittiest circumstances, he was probably one of the luckiest people on the planet.
And then there was Gage.
Gage, who had his own apartment but slept with Fallon every night. Gage, who seemed to sense what he needed before he needed it. Who pinned him to the mattress and either fuckedhim or got fucked in whatever way Fallon was craving without making him feel like he was doing Fallon some kind of favor.
Gage, who looked at him with hearts in his eyes…
But those hearts were covering a pain Fallon could tell he was still running from.
There was nothing he could do, of course. Gage was doing all the right things—if there really were right things in this case. He was in therapy. He was taking his medication as directed. He was crying when he needed to and taking time for himself when it all became too much.
He was brave and strong, but also fragile in ways Fallon didn’t quite understand how to help. Or if he should even try.
Gage had talked about it once—and only once. And then the topic seemed shut down, and Fallon wasn’t going to trip over that line and ruin this amazing thing he had. But he was starting to wonder if maybe just being in Gage’s life—reminding him of his almost reality—was starting to weigh on him.
Gage said he wanted this, but was he lying to himself in hopes that he could make that true? Or was this part of the healing process?
He needed someone to talk to, and he knew exactly who would give him the answers he was looking for.
Fallon’s back was in agony as he headed toward the familiar food truck. He hardly ever went there. He didn’t like eating out if he could help it, but today wasn’t about lunch. Lucas’s truck was set up near the city park, and Fallon had been there all afternoon, first doing sweet sixteen photos for a client and then a four-year-old’s birthday party.
Both were hell on him. He had to do a lot of crouching and lying on the ground and odd-angle shots that each parent requested. He didn’t mind that normally. He was a surprisingly bendy guy. But getting up and down was harder these days.
And his hips were hurting him in ways he hadn’t expected or been warned about.
He was practically limping as he walked up and sighed at the line Lucas had. He took a seat at a bench as he watched his brother’s boyfriend handle the orders. He liked watching Lucas move. He was graceful about it—the same way Fallon was. His stims were like a dance, and the only difference between them was how often he rocked his head.
But Fallon figured that was probably more of a blind thing than an autism thing.
He enjoyed his company though, even if he didn’t go over to their place as often as he used to. Lucas was a good person. And he was good for Frankie and Elodie, which was the only thing that really mattered.
Today though, he was hoping Lucas could be something like a friend to him.
The line began to dwindle, and luckily, it was too cold for most people to want to stick around and eat, so when the last person grabbed their order, there was only one person sitting at a table. He jumped up, wincing at the pain in his back, which was somehow worse after resting, and made his way over.
“Hello.”
Lucas leaned on the counter. “How can I help you?”
“It’s Fallon.”
He jolted. “Oh, shit. Hey, man. You never eat here.”
Fallon laughed softly. “I’m not hungry.”
