Gage lifted his chin. He looked Aaron in the eyes, and the first mournful tear rolled down his cheek. “He’s yours, Aaron. He belongs to you.”
7
Gage
What little strength Gage had left eroded. His shoulders slumped, and he ducked his head to avoid meeting Aaron’s gaze.
Aaron’s return wasn’t supposed to have gone like this. In Gage’s perfect world, Aaron would have let him know that he’d graduated and that he was on his way home. Gage had it all planned—the conversation, the answers to the questions Aaron would inevitably have, and even ways to defuse any kind of reaction Aaron would have, whether it was overjoyed, disappointed, or angry.
But a face-to-face confrontation wasn’t part of the plan. Everything had gone wrong, and Gage didn’t know how to make it right.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” Gage whispered when Aaron said nothing. While he spoke, he stepped out of the doorway and back into his apartment. It was ridiculous to think that Aaron could ever get so angry that he’d harm a child, let alone Gage’s boy, but when Bo had shrieked and his voice had crackled like cellophane, Gage’s paternal instincts had kicked in, and he’d acted without even thinking about it. Bo was his whole world, and he wouldn’t let anybody—not even Bo’s father—send that world crashing down. “I was going to tell you before you came back. But I… I couldn’t tell you while you were still in school.”
“That’s my son?” Aaron asked in awe. The anger in his voice was gone. Cautiously, he stepped into the apartment. Gage allowed him entry.
“He’s yours,” Gage reaffirmed. Guilt started to twist inside him, coiling around itself like fibers weaving into thick rope. “It happened that summer, when you came back home from California…”
“Gage,” Aaron uttered, sounding gutted.
“I know…”
“Baby, you should have told me.” A soft hand found Gage’s cheek, and Gage found the courage to face Aaron again. Aaron’s dark eyes were burdened with concern and regret, and his lips were arched down the tiniest bit, doleful. “I would have come home. I don’t… I don’t understand why you’d keep something like this a secret. God, Gage… that summer was almost five years ago.”
“I know,” Gage murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“How has no one told me?” Aaron glanced over Gage’s shoulder into the apartment. The door was still open behind him, and Gage reached forward to close it. The walls were thin enough as it was—he didn’t need the rest of the building hearing what a mess he’d made of his life. “Your parents, my parents, our brothers, our friends… how did you convince them to keep it a secret?”
“I didn’t.” Gage looked down again. The choices of his past weighed on him. “No one knows.”
“No one knows?”
“No one.”
“How?” Aaron’s hand slid to the back of Gage’s head, and he cupped the base of Gage’s skull. His touch was a comfort Gage didn’t feel like he deserved. He knew he’d done wrong—Aaron should have been furious at him for what he’d done. How could one man be so understanding?
How could one man love him so damned much?
“When I found out I was pregnant, I’d already moved into the city so I could attend college.” Gage blinked away his tears. “I remember, when I found out, I lay in bed for hours and stared at the ceiling of my new room, wondering what I was supposed to do. You’d just left for Europe, and we’d just finished planning our future together. You’d told me that I needed to be strong…”
Gage didn’t want to cry, but the memory was difficult, and his throat convulsed with the onset of a sob. He took a second to compose himself, and as he did, Aaron pulled him against his chest. The time they’d spent apart had changed Aaron’s body—he was firmer than he’d been before, leaner and more muscular by touch, but not by sight. But even if time had sculpted Aaron from youth into rugged maturity, the scent of him remained the same. Like the smell of a desert at night, sweet and lush and earthy, complemented by the scent of his bodywash. Gage buried his nose against Aaron’s shirt and took it in until his heart stopped racing and the sob that threatened to escape settled inside him again.
“Oh, BP,” Aaron whispered against the top of his head. “I didn’t mean like that. You never had to be strong like that.”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Gage’s voice trembled, his words so delicate, he was afraid his tongue would break them. “Our parents are best friends. If I’d told anyone in my family, your parents would have found out about what happened. Your dad would have pulled you out of university and forced you to come home so you could take care of me and the baby. That wasn’t our plan. I knew that if I could just keep it a secret for a few years, you’d finish up your studies, come home with your degree, and we could pick up from where we left off… just with a child to care for.”
“So all this time, you’ve never been back to see your family?” Aaron asked. The hand at the bottom of Gage’s skull traced down his neck and began to rub in small, comforting circles. “You’ve kept to yourself all this time?”
“Not really.” A chill swept its way down Gage’s spine, following the path of Aaron’s hand. “I video chat with them when I know Bo won’t interrupt and blow our cover, and I go back maybe once or twice a year for holidays, if Mal has time to babysit.”
“Bo?” Aaron’s voice shook. He pulled back from Gage and looked him in the eyes. “His name is Bo?”
“I didn’t think you’d mind,” Gage murmured, embarrassed. He dipped his gaze again, but Aaron lifted his chin and forced him to meet his eyes.
“I don’t mind,” Aaron said. “It’s perfect.”
A blush spread across Gage’s cheeks. There were still things he had to tell Aaron—dark things, things he was ashamed of—but for now, he let himself enjoy the tenderness of the moment. Aaron had listened, and he’d believed what Gage had said. For now, that was enough. The rest could come a little later, once Aaron had enjoyed meeting his son for the first time, and Bo was put to bed for the night. Gage wouldn’t spoil the happiness of the moment with news of the awful things he’d done to keep their family together.
“A baby,” Aaron murmured at last, seemingly speaking to himself. “We have a baby…”
