“Yeah.” Gage laughed nervously. “Somehow, I don’t think you are… but let’s go sit. Whether you’re ready or not, it needs to be said… and I need to say it before I completely wuss out.”
He flashed Aaron a nervous smile that only managed to amplify Aaron’s panic, then headed for the couch. No matter what was about to be said, Aaron would be there for Gage—Gage had been strong for him, after all. It was time he returned the favor.
9
Gage
An uncomfortable silence gripped the room, seeming to tighten the fabric of space and time until Gage’s lungs felt too small for his body, and his skin too tight for his bones. He sat next to Aaron on the couch and raked his hands nervously down his thighs, then capped his knees and squeezed. Never once had he felt so awkward around Aaron before—not even in the strange transitory time when, before Aaron had left for California to get his master’s degree, Gage had started to think about Aaron in more than friendly ways.
But the teenager he’d been then and the man he was now were different. Gage had done a lot of growing since he’d first started to harbor a crush for Aaron, and that growth had been accelerated after he’d found out he was pregnant with Bo. No matter how uncomfortable he felt, he couldn’t conceal the truth. Aaron was home now. If he wanted this to work, he had to confess what he’d done, and what was going on. Both with Bo, and himself.
“There are… a few things you need to know,” Gage said after a long pause. He struggled to find the right words, and felt miserable with the ones he’d chosen. Why couldn’t he just come out and say it? It was like he was a magnet, and the truth a magnetic surface with an identical charge—the more Gage tried to force himself toward it, the more strongly he was repelled. “The first thing you need to know about is Bo.”
“About his breathing?”
“Yeah.” Gage wet his lips and shifted his weight from thigh to thigh. The rapid beat of his pulse in his ears made it hard to focus. “Last year, Bo started getting sick. It… it was bad. Medical expenses weren’t something I could afford… I can’t even really afford to live in this apartment.” He gestured at the room in general, highly aware that Aaron had likely picked up on how miserable the place was. From the water damage on the ceiling to the uneven, destroyed floors to the fact that there was a vile, piss-like stench in the cabinets that no amount of scrubbing could get out, there was no mistaking his apartment for something luxurious. Aaron, who could comfortably spend more in a day than Gage could hope to make in a year, probably thought even worse of the place than Gage did. “So for a while, I waited, hoping it would get better… but it didn’t.”
A flighty feeling seized Gage. It made him want to spring up from the couch and pace around the apartment. Anxiety, numbing, diffused through his chest and down his arms, leaving his joints weak. The suffering Bo had been forced to endure because Gage couldn’t earn enough to support him ate at him. If he’d worked harder, none of this would have happened… but he’d been exhausted, and hungry, and drained. But even those excuses felt weak.
What he’d done to Bo had been terrible. There was no getting around it.
“Eventually, Alex came to help me. He helped pay to get Bo in to see a doctor, and she put him on some medicine that didn’t really help. When it became clear the medication wasn’t helping all that much, I took Bo back in to see someone else, who referred me to a specialist. We went to see the specialist just the other day, but they want tests done, and I… I don’t have the money.”
Aaron picked up instantly from where Gage had let off. “You have the money now.”
“It’s not right for you to come home, find out you have a child, and then ask you for money to help that child get better.” The anxiety that stretched across Gage’s chest and tumbled down his arms forged its way south, invading his stomach and overthrowing his gut. “I’m not… I’m not trying to take advantage of you, and I don’t want you to think that I am.”
“I don’t think that at all.” Aaron sounded sincere, but Gage couldn’t bring himself to look at his face. “Bo’s my son, too. I have a duty to look after him, just like I have a duty to look after you. I’m home now, BP. You’ve been through hell, and you did it so you could support me. It’s time to let me support you.”
They were the words Gage had dreamed of hearing, but he knew that they’d been spoken prematurely. Aaron didn’t know the whole truth yet, and when he found out, Gage was sure he’d take back what he’d said. Not even Aaron, who was tenderhearted and kind, could forgive everything.
Impact was coming. Gage braced for it.
“That’s… that’s not everything I have to tell you.” There was no going back now—no chance to change his mind. “I want to be one hundred percent transparent with you. You deserve to know what I’ve done since you left. And if it makes you change your opinion of me, I… I accept that. I just ask that you don’t lash out at Bo. He’s innocent. I’m the one you need to be angry at, okay?”
“Angry? Why would I be angry?” There was genuine confusion in Aaron’s voice. “BP?”
“I needed to make money,” Gage said weakly. His words trembled from the strain of his confession, then came out as a near croak as he lost his nerve. “I couldn’t afford to hire a babysitter for Bo during the day, when I’d be asked to work—Mal looks after him for free, but he isn’t available all the time, and I don’t like asking him to look after Bo too often, since I can’t compensate him for his time—and I couldn’t… I couldn’t tell our families what was going on in my life, or why I’d need a full-time job that could pay well when I was supposed to be going to college. So I had to find a way to stay with Bo during the day, and use my nights to make money.”
Gage stared at his knees. He rubbed his thighs nervously, then sat on his hands to keep from fidgeting. Beside him, Aaron was quiet. Understanding had to be setting in. Gage imagined his face—twisted with revulsion and disgust—as horrible thoughts about Gage’s character toppled like dominoes in his mind.
Pathetic.
Filthy.
Unworthy.
Unlovable.
“I started to cam.” Gage let those thoughts own him with the confession, never to be taken back now that he’d admitted to his sins. His heart beat wildly in his chest, like his ribcage was a brittle prison that could be destroyed with enough effort. “I hate it. I hate every second I’m live. It makes me feel cheap and used up and objectified… and guilty. The first few times, after I turned off the cam, I threw up. But it brought in money, and that meant I could keep the apartment, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
More silence. It was worse than if Aaron had flown off into a blind rage. At least, if he’d started shouting, Gage would have known what he was feeling. As it was, he had no idea—only poisonous inklings that made him believe the worst.
“Night owl.” Aaron was broken, and the vulnerability in his voice broke Gage, too. Gage brushed tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “All this time, I thought it was because you were busy with work and school, so your sleep schedule had been forced to change. I didn’t… I didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry.” It was kitten-weak, a tiny string of words that Gage could barely free from his tongue. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I tried so hard… I tried so hard to be there for him. To be there foryou.”
The tears fell faster now, too plentiful to stop. Everything was supposed to be better now—Aaron washome—but the truth was jagged glass wedged deep in Gage’s heart, and speaking about it didn’t pluck it from inside of him—it only pushed the pieces in deeper.
