Page 117 of Lost Boy
Fallon glances up from inhaling his hamburger and fries, offering a small smile before returning to his dinner.
Dad glances at me, I think stunned by the smile. I guess he hasn’t seen one of those yet. I give him a blinding grin in return, then Joel, who shakes his head.
I told Joel I’d have Fallon’s back and make him my friend, probably even get him to smile.
I didn’t intend to also make him my boyfriend. But once we met, there wasn’t any stopping the momentum or the chemistry. I’m drawn to him, and he fits into my life like a missing piece, making me want to be brave and live however I want.
“While we’re here, I wanted to mention that your mother contacted me from prison, asking to speak to you.”
Fallon’s eyes dart up from his food, the blood draining from his already pale face.
“I’m sorry if it seems like a bad time, but we’re here, and you are an adult now, Fallon. It wouldn’t be right for me to keep that information from you.”
I can see Joel’s point and respect it, even if it’s an overload for Fallon.
He tilts his head to the side, anxiously running his hands through his hair.
I want to give him space. I know he needs it, so I reach over and gently squeeze his thigh, letting him know I’m here.
He needs someone to try for him, and luckily he has an entire family to do that now. Joel is an amazing person, and my dad isn’t going to let Fallon slip through the cracks without feeling like he’s wanted and belongs.
I’m ready to show him too.
“I can handle it for you. Or I can pass her your number. It’s in your hands. In your control, Fallon.”
“No. I can’t see her. It’s too much. Handle it. Please, Uncle Joel.” His eyes dart away from his uncle’s after the plea escapes his lips.
I can’t help it. I tug him into my arms, leaving our half-eaten burgers behind.
“I’ll tell her you’re not ready, but you can contact her if and when you are.”
“Was she sober?” Fallon mumbles.
“Sounded like maybe,” Joel murmurs truthfully.
“Hmm. I still can’t.”
I squeeze my boyfriend to my chest, not caring that my dad and his uncle are sitting on the bed across from us. He needs some comfort. This is heavy stuff.
“I don’t blame you, kiddo. It’s been a rough day.”
Fallon didn’t break down at the gravesite. I think reading the letter in private was cathartic for him. He released all the pain and could say hello and goodbye to his father at the same time.
It was tragic and devastating but so, so healing.
It’ll take time for the wound to fully fade, but the path has been started, and I feel so proud of the steps he’s taken to do right by himself.
So. Fucking. Proud.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
RYDER
It’s May now, and prom is two weeks away. Things at school and home have been going smoothly. I haven’t officially asked Fallon, but that’s about to change with help from my favorite chef and one of my favorite people.
“Think this’ll do? Yer oul fella was tryin’ ta help. Doin’ it arseways. But don’t ye worry, I didn’t let him ruin yer message.”
I only understood half of what she just said, but the mini ice cream cookies spelling out “PROM?” are fucking epic.
