Page 1 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

I’m a twenty-one-year-old who’s never even been kissed. And I’ll stay that way forever if it keeps my brother safe. —Gabe Gomez

I stand over a bowl of cereal filled with nothing but milk and purple marshmallows, wondering if this is the moment when my world finally collapses.

“Gabe? Gabe?” A small hand tugs at my sleeve, and I look up from Lou’s breakfast to find him staring at me. He squints his eyes together tightly. “Were you daydreaming again?” he asks.

I smile weakly and try not to think about my cell phone on the countertop, the one that sparked my drift into la la land while I was supposed to be eating and enjoying the most important meal of the day with my little brother.

Six-year-old Lou has no clue why my phone beeped with a message as I was pouring milk for him a moment ago, and there’s no way I’m telling him.

My greatest mission in life is to keep Lou safe and happy, and that means making sure he’s completely shielded from text messages that turn my heart into the drum line of a college marching band and send my pulse rate through the stained roof of our tiny kitchen.

I reach across the table to ruffle his hair. “Sorry, buddy. I got distracted. Were you saying something?”

“Yes! I was telling you that I have twelve purple marshmallows left today.” Lou digs his spoon into the bowl. “That’s two more than yesterday.”

“That’s great. The more purple marshmallows, the better the day it’s going to be, right?

” Lou nods eagerly. He dressed himself this morning, and he’s wearing his favorite green skirt over his jeans.

It matches the green-and-blue flannel shirt he’s got on and the Mary Jane shoes he fell in love with the last time we visited the secondhand store.

His beloved morning ritual is painstakingly poking the purple marshmallows out of his way as he eats through the cereal and other colored marshmallows first. And every morning he tells me how many purple marshmallows he ended up with.

He slurps away at his cereal, and I give the top of his head another quick rub, relishing the bright grin he sends back to me.

Our mornings together in this house are something I’ve really come to treasure.

I’m going to miss them if… nope, don’t think about that.

You can answer that message. You can figure this out.

You can do hard things. You can do anything you put your mind to. You are all-powerful.

It was my last foster mother who taught me all about self-affirmations.

Saying them made me kind of uncomfortable at first, but I kept doing it to make her happy.

That was always my most important rule of living with Dave and in every foster or group home I ever stayed in: smile and do what people tell you to do.

As long as I never upset anyone, as long as I stayed positive and smiling, I knew I’d be safe.

So I did the affirmations with Ja’nae every single day, and eventually, they started to become a habit.

“Gabe? I’m finished!” Lou holds up his bowl triumphantly, and I glance over at the clock.

Shoot, we’re going to be late if we don’t get going soon.

And letting my brother be late for school is never an option on any day, especially this early in the school year.

Not if I don’t want his teacher and principal to start asking questions.

“Let’s go, kiddo!” I announce. I swipe my phone off the counter and drop it into my pocket without looking at the screen again.

Then I throw my poor, ignored toast into a plastic container.

Hopefully I’ll find an appetite for it later.

Bethany keeps making comments at work about how I’m losing too much weight, and that’s not the kind of attention I need right now either.

I get Lou buckled into his safety harness in the small backseat area of my bright yellow ‘84 Ford truck, the one I inherited from my father. Then I put on the Frozen soundtrack, Lou’s favorite, and we sing together about building snowmen as we coast down the main street of Devon Falls, Vermont, past the town square that sits off to one side of Main Street and the few small churches surrounding the large green lawn.

My stomach clenches slightly at the sight of the Pride flag flying over the Devon Falls community church.

When I first realized this was where Lou’s dad, Dave, took him after my mom died and Dave left me behind in foster care in Connecticut, I thought Devon Falls seemed like the perfect haven for Lou to be raised in.

A small town filled with maple leaves and pride flags and people who waved at you when you drove down the street was almost too good to be true.

Maybe Dave would be different here, I thought.

Maybe he’d finally get off his favorite message boards and stop listening to all the nasty little voices talking to him there.

But this morning’s text message from him was just a reminder that things haven’t worked out that way.

You can do hard things. You are a strong human. Breathe in courage. Breathe out doubt.

I vaguely recognize the teacher on drop-off duty when I pull up to Devon Falls Elementary.

She sometimes comes to events at Northern Stars Winery, where I work, but I can’t recall her name.

The school is a one-story building, constructed in a T-shape that spreads out in four directions, with two long glass windows at the front entrance covered in children’s artwork.

A painting of Lou’s, featuring a castle and two princesses holding hands while they stand next to a dragon, is front and center in that window.

His art teacher gave it an award for best brushwork.

I fed Lou so much congratulatory ice cream the night he won that, but I never texted Dave to tell him about Lou’s prize.

I knew he’d ask to see the picture, and that would only cause trouble.

I help Lou down out of the truck and sink hard into the deep, long hug he gives me.

“I love you, Gabe,” he tells my stomach, and I relish the words.

Lou may be my only real family right now, but he’s all the family I need.

I brush his blond bangs out of his eyes.

No one would ever guess that he and I are related by looking at us.

Our mom had Italian heritage and my dad had Mexican heritage, and I’ve got a natural tan all year round.

But Lou has Dave’s skin, which is so alabaster pale he burns right away if I don’t keep him slathered in sunscreen during the summer.

My hair and eyes are both dark brown, a total contrast to Lou’s.

People in Devon Falls still seem surprised to learn we’re brothers.

“Have a good day today, okay?” I tell him. “And remember—”

“I know,” he interrupts cheerfully. “If people ask where Daddy is, he’s still working!

Bye, brother!” Gabe scampers off toward the school building, and I wave weakly before I hop back inside my truck.

As soon as I’m back behind the wheel, I turn the Frozen soundtrack up as high as my truck’s weak speakers will go.

I sing as I drive to the winery, coasting down roads lined with grazing dairy cattle, brightly colored barns, and forest and grass that span every shade of green you can find in a box of sixty-four crayons.

It’s some of the most beautiful scenery I’ll probably ever see in my life, and I do my best to focus on it.

I can’t think about that text message right now.

I have a long day of work ahead, and Dave’s message is a problem for later on, when I don’t have customers at the winery’s inn who need welcoming smiles and their beds perfectly made.

Northern Stars Winery is about a mile outside of Devon Falls, placed smack in the middle of a long line of dairy farm pastures that roll into each other across the landscape.

Evelyn Shoalski built the winery on some of her family’s farmland, and the trip up the winery’s long driveway has a view of her vineyards, tall and ready for the fall harvest that will begin soon, and trees just starting to think about transitioning into their fall colors.

I arrive at the end of the driveway and pull into the side parking lot where all the winery and inn employees park, and then I take one more deep breath.

This winery and its inn are my happy place.

They’re both new businesses, and the winery is one of very few wineries in this part of Vermont.

Evelyn and her friend Bethany Rutgers, who manages the inn, gave me my first full-time job in Devon Falls.

After I aged out of the foster care system, I spent over a year saving up enough money to move to Vermont to be closer to Lou.

For a long time after I got here, I was keeping up what felt like about a hundred part-time jobs just so I could eat, pay my rent, and help take care of Lou.

Then Evelyn and Bethany saved me when they offered me a job at the winery’s inn.

My position even came with benefits. I was so surprised I knocked over two bottles of cab sav when they told me, but they didn’t take back the job offer, even though one of the bottles broke.

Now Northern Stars, with the old barn converted into a winery and tasting room, and the sturdy, massive farmhouse Evelyn and Bethany turned into a thriving inn, is my favorite place to be when I can’t be with Lou.

I don’t want any part of that text message coming with me into one of my favorite places in the world.

I hop out of the truck, repeat a few more mantras, and I’m already on the inn’s front porch when I see it: the dark green Porsche that Colin Templegate drives around Lake Devon whenever he comes to Northern Stars Winery.

Oh no. I take a few deep breaths and start considering which affirmations to say next.