Page 23 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

Not every relationship has to look like two people. —Tom Evers

“Tom! Tom! I want that one!”

“Yes, yes. I’m coming.” I laugh as I follow the tiny ball of energy in front of me through a row of bright orange pumpkins.

In my entire life, I don’t think I ever imagined myself spending a Saturday morning in a pumpkin patch following a six-year-old around while he picks out the “most perfect pumpkins ever” for an afternoon of carving.

But here I am, at the Stock Tree Farm pumpkin patch, surrounded by shouting children and the sounds of “Monster Mash” echoing out of large, portable speakers.

It’s a scene right out of some family-friendly movie.

The kind of movie role I always took when it was offered, because those roles gifted me long weeks of daydreaming about what it would be like to live in a place just like this one.

In those daydreams, Colin loved me just as much as I loved him.

We frolicked through pumpkin patches together, sometimes with children by our side.

And then the movie would finish filming, and I’d go back to a harsh reality.

“Tom? Oh, there you are.” Gabe rushes up to me, breathless.

Because we’re in public, I quickly remind myself not to pull him in for a hug.

Since we began his and Colin’s coaching a few days ago, one thing has become perfectly clear: Gabe loves touch.

I’m not sure exactly how deprived of it he’s been over the years, but I’m determined to make up for it, and Colin appears to feel the same way.

I’ve lost count of the number of large and small hugs we’ve given him recently, and it feels very disquieting not to give him one right now.

“Hello there, little fox.” I take a quick glance around to see who might be watching.

But no one’s anywhere nearby. Lou’s leaning over some pumpkins singing to himself, Colin’s off getting hot chocolate for Lou at the farm’s stand, and all the other families at the patch are happily cavorting by themselves.

So I decide it’s safe to lean over and take him against my body for a fast squeeze and a quick but explorative kiss.

“Wow.” Gabe’s blushing slightly when we finally pull apart. I run a hand over his cheek. “I, um, just wanted to see if you thought we should get a pumpkin for Malachai and Sam. For their porch? Lou would love to carve an extra one. And maybe we could get one for Jack and Benson too.”

This man. He’s always thinking of others and putting them first. I glance back at Lou, who’s still humming to himself.

I can’t even imagine all the sacrifices Gabe has made for his little brother.

Not for the first time, I wonder what Lou’s father is really like.

I’m starting to think the man may be a mirage as well as an asshole. I’ve still yet to meet him.

That’s probably just as well. I’m not sure I can be held responsible for the actions I take when I finally come face-to-face with the man who abandoned sweet Gabriel Gomez after his mother passed.

I keep my hand on Gabe’s cheek. “That’s a lovely idea. How many pumpkins has Lou picked so far?”

“Lou?” Gabe calls out. “How many pumpkins have you picked?”

“I’ve got three!” Lou stands triumphantly so he can turn around to face us as he holds up three fingers.

“Do you want to find a few more?” Gabe asks him. “One for Mr. Benson and Dr. Jack, and another one for Mr. Malachai and Dr. Sam?”

“I can do that!” Lou rushes off down the row of pumpkins, tapping at each one. Gabe smiles.

“Thanks for coming with us today,” he says. “You and Colin really didn’t need to. I mean, it is Saturday. I’m sure you both had better things to do.”

I glance around at the scene in front of me: the scene I used to hope and dream for.

Of course, this isn’t the man I always imagined holding in my arms with this scenery in front of me.

But Gabe feels so right when he’s this close to me.

So perfect in every way. And the man who used to appear in my dreams?

He’s somehow, against every odd, still in the picture itself. In fact, he’s currently walking over the hill toward us, holding hot chocolate in one hand and his phone against his ear with his other.

I feel the same strangled sensation I often have in my stomach when Colin comes near.

But this time, the sensation is a little less sharp.

Since our first “lesson” together, Colin and Gabe and I have tried out a few more of our coaching experiences.

I talked Gabe through administering one of the best blow jobs I’ve ever had in my life, and all three of us enjoyed some very intimate hand action together.

And the more things have progressed, the more I’ve begun to believe that whatever the three of us are trying could really work. Long-term.

Not every relationship has to look like two people.

I’ve always known that. For goodness’ sake, I’m standing in the middle of a farm owned by one of several throuples right in this valley.

Perhaps Colin and I can both have Gabe as a lover and stay as close as we’ve ever been.

And if we can make that work, Colin never needs to know my real feelings.

Maybe. Just maybe. Maybe this could work.

I take a long breath in and wrap my arm more closely against Gabe as Colin hangs up the phone and comes to meet us. “Who was that?” I ask him.

Colin frowns at the phone. “Claire,” he says.

I can’t help the cough that escapes my chest. “Claire Bismark? Claire Bismark the driver?”

“The one and only.” Colin shrugs. “She’s coming to the opening event for the winery’s new event space, so I thought she was calling about that. But she wanted to know something else, actually.” He frowns again and stares off into the distance.

Oh, for crying out loud. He always does this: drops a lede and then waits five beats too long to share the punchline, despite the fact that he knows I have absolutely zero patience. “Well? What?” I demand. Gabe smiles.

Colin sighs. “People on the circuit are making noises about asking me to do some race weekend analysis. Broadcasting, all that shit. And Claire thinks I should do it.”

“Colin, that’s great!” Gabe moves forward like he’s about to run to Colin for a hug. He must remember that we’re standing in the middle of a very not-private pumpkin patch, because he quickly stops where he’s standing.

“I don’t know if I’m going to do it,” Colin says. “I shut the door on racing when I left. That was the right choice for me, and I don’t regret it. And it’s not like I need any more money than I’ve already made in my career.” He shrugs. “So I’m not sure. I have to think about this.”

“Of course.” Gabe nods. “That totally makes sense.”

There have been moments in my life when I’ve bristled at someone else offering Colin comfort or caring. In those moments, so much jealousy, stirred by unsaid words, has boiled within me. But right now, I only feel grateful that Gabe’s words raise a wide smile from Colin.

Whatever feelings Colin has for Gabe, they’re bringing up more smiles and laughter in him than I’ve seen since Christian died. Possibly even before that. And when I look over at Gabe’s bright expression, I can’t feel anything but utter joy and gratitude to be here with them both.

Maybe this could work.

We spend the afternoon on Colin’s porch, elbow-deep in pumpkin guts as Lou darts around us shouting out carving directions.

We finish up with three faces made mostly of triangles, one barely recognizable cat created by me and a stencil, and a stunning night display of a witch flying over the moon.

Which Colin created. Because the man truly is somehow excellent at everything he tries.

“Is there anything you’re not good at, bestie?” I tease him as we set aside pumpkins to bring to friends and help Lou light one of his favorites on Colin’s front step.

“My Swedish is abominable,” he says, deadpan. Gabe laughs out loud.

The three of us cook dinner together in Colin’s kitchen while Lou tells us all about his school’s Halloween parade and what his costume will be.

“And the leaf festival is before that,” he adds excitedly.

“I already have my outfits picked out! I’m going to wear my blue tutu with my green jeans.

” He frowns. “I think. Maybe. I might wear something else if Daddy comes home for the festival.”

I jerk my head up from where I’ve been chopping tomatoes. Colin gives me a sharp look. Gabe’s in the pantry fetching some cooking oil, and I sense we’re treading over some ground he wouldn’t want the two of us standing on.

But I’m a nosey bastard. I can’t help myself.

“Why wouldn’t your dad want you to wear that, Lou?” I ask.

He frowns and taps his chin as though he’s deep in thought.

“I’m not sure. But my dresses make his face all sad.

Especially my favorite tutu.” Lou shrugs.

“Once I heard him yell about it, and then I got scared and went back to my room. I think that’s why he went away again, like he always does.

” Lou’s eyes go suddenly wide, and he winces.

“I’m not supposed to talk about that,” he whispers.

“Hey, guys? Is extra virgin okay for this pasta?” Gabe calls from the pantry.

Colin looks at me. The conversation we have with our eyes is quick and one built on years of practice.

Let’s not make a big deal of this now.

Agreed. We’ll ask more questions later.

Colin nods. “Let me come look,” he calls back to Gabe. He heads toward the pantry, and I kneel down in front of Lou.

“You didn’t say anything wrong, okay?” I tell him. “Please don’t worry about that.”

Lou scrunches his face slightly. “Okay, if you’re sure. I don’t like making Dad sad or mad.” He glances toward the pantry. “But I really, really, don’t like it when Gabe is sad.”

Laughter drifts out of the pantry and into the wide kitchen. Everything in my body feels like it lifts at that sound. “I understand completely,” I tell Lou.

But I spend the first half of dinner looking back and forth between Gabe and Lou. I know better than most what it looks like to keep a secret.

I just never thought I’d meet someone with secrets wrapped up even more tightly than mine.