Page 33 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

I want an escape. —Gabe Gomez

The drive away from the hospital reminds me of my first trip to a group home.

My mom had just passed. Then Dave disappeared down the road, his truck loaded up and Lou in a car seat in the back.

The whole world felt fogged, gray around the edges.

The social worker he’d handed me off to made small talk about school and what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I must have answered the questions, but I’ve got absolutely no idea what I said.

And then we started driving down roads I didn’t recognize, in unfamiliar neighborhoods, and for the first time I gave myself permission to wonder where I was going to end up.

Would I get to keep going to the same school?

What kind of food would be there? How quickly would I be able to get a job near the place so I could start saving up money and get myself back to Lou?

Everything felt so uncertain. And I always thought I was pretty good at uncertainty, especially after my mother got sick.

I was good at looking forward to what might be possible rather than always being terrified of the bad things that might be coming.

But that day, in the car, the uncertainty felt so big that it started to make my skin itch.

I scratched and scratched, blaming the sweater I was wearing, and I remember I scratched so much that I turned my right arm red.

That’s how I arrived at my new group home: with a bright red arm in need of calamine lotion, skin crawling with uncertainty.

Now, as Colin easily guides Tom’s Jeep down a long road away from the hospital, I feel the same kind of uncertainty moving across my skin.

Colin hardly said a word after I spilled Tom’s secret.

He said about four words while he helped me out to the car, and now it’s like the Jeep is filled to the roof with silence.

I swallow hard and search for an affirmation. But every single one that moved through my mind feels wrong. Impossible. Silly.

I can do hard things.

Maybe I can’t.

I will accomplish everything I need to today.

Well, things aren’t looking so good on that front right now.

And then Colin takes a sharp turn off the main road toward Devon Falls, onto a road that leads toward the defunct Devon Falls ski area.

I scratch lightly at my wrist. “Uh, where are we going?” I ask. Colin and Tom helped me lay out across the back seat, but my broken leg, with the cast up to the ankle, is already not feeling that great. I’m not in the mood to take the scenic route to Malachai and Sam’s house.

“I’m kidnapping the two of you,” Colin says easily as he focuses on the road.

“Excuse me?” I say at the same time Tom says “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Colin says, “that I’m taking a risk. And you two are coming with me. And you have to, because I’m driving. So I make the rules.”

I’ll admit, that makes me smile. I pull my fingers away from my wrist.

“Seriously, though,” Colin adds. “I made a decision while Gabe was finishing packing up his things. After you left the hospital room, Tom. We’re going to a cabin my friend Claire found when she was planning her trip to the winery’s leaf festival event.

She hates staying in hotels, and she says inns give her hives, so she found this place near the ski area—the one that I guess isn’t running anymore?

” Tom nods. “Anyway, she booked it for that weekend. I looked at the booking page, and it’s available right now. I snagged it.”

I can’t even imagine having enough money to just decide on a whim to rent a ski cabin for a few days. I know what the cabins up in the hills of Devon Falls go for during leaf season. They are hella not cheap. “But why?” I ask. “You could have just kidnapped us back to your place.”

Colin frowns and focuses on the road for a minute.

“Because I think we all need a break,” he finally says.

“It’s going to be tough enough for you to be away from Lou right now, and being right in Devon Falls staring at everything that reminds you of Lou isn’t going to help.

And it’s pretty obvious there are some things we need to get out in the open here.

I thought it might be easier to do that in a place we’re everyone is on an even footing.

” He glances back at my cast. “So to speak.”

“Very funny,” I tell him. But I smile. Because I know that I could tell him no. I could tell him to turn this car around and take me to Malachai’s house. He’d do it in a heartbeat, I’m sure of that, even though he probably already spent a non-refundable fortune on this cabin.

But honestly? I don’t want to do any of that. I want an escape. I don’t want to sit on Sam and Malachai’s front porch, cast in front of me, spending every single second of the day wondering what Lou’s doing with Jack and Benson. What he’s eating. Whether he misses me.

Not to mention that whole giant can of worms I opened up on Tom and Colin back at the hospital. I probably owe them more than throwing that thing out in front of them and running.

“Okay,” I finally say. “I’m game if Tom is.”

Tom’s been quiet—well, for him anyway—since we left the hospital. Right now, he stares out the window as he answers, not looking at either of us. “I suppose that’s fine,” he finally agrees.

The cabin is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.

I mean, I’m sure it’s beautiful all year round, but it’s hard to imagine it gets much more perfect than it looks like now.

It’s a large A-frame, made up of brown logs and windows and doors painted in a green trim, and the wraparound porch has a large swing and a bunch of chairs set across it.

But the best part about the place is definitely the giant forest of maple and birch trees surrounding the whole area.

They’ve only got about three-quarters of their leaves right now, with the rest already on the ground, and the leaves on and off the trees are a painting of pure color: every shade of maroon, red, orange, yellow, and gold imaginable stretches across branches and against the skyline.

“Okay,” Tom tells Colin as he steps out of the car. “Points for scenery, I suppose, Colin.”

I notice he doesn’t call him bestie.

He and Colin fuss over me as they take my crutches out of the back of the Jeep and help me out of the vehicle.

The cast is awkward and bulky, and I’m already worried about how I’m going to go back to work with it.

Bethany visited me in the hospital to tell me that I didn’t need to worry about the winery while I healed.

Tom, Colin, and I were so close to finishing the event space when I fell off that ladder, and she said she was sure she and Evelyn could finish it.

She made a joke about putting the damn fairy lights back in their box, though.

And she did promise to teach me how to properly operate a wheelchair when I get back to the winery so I can get around more easily while I’m recovering.

None of that seems like it matters very much now. Everything’s a mess, and winery's event space is the last thing I can bring myself to care about right now.

Tom and Colin watch me like hawks as I use my crutches to make my way up the few steps to the porch.

My leg throbs in time with my head, but the painkillers the hospital left me with are doing their job, and both throbs are pretty gentle, all things considered.

When Colin opens the front door to a wide-open space with bright mahogany floors, a fireplace, carved furniture, and an open kitchen that rivals his for shine, I feel no pain at all.

All I can think about is how perfect this cabin is. Lou would love it here.

Well, I feel that pain. But it’s a very different kind. Much, much harsher than the broken leg.

“There’s a hot tub on the back deck too,” Colin says. He frowns down at my cast. “We might not be able to get you in there right away. But I do have an idea.”

I don’t ask for details. I’m getting tired already, and I let the two of them fuss as they settle me onto the couch.

I notice that they barely look at each other as they make tea and soup and sandwiches and Colin goes through the packed bags that someone—I’m guessing Sam and Malachai—have left here for us.

I nibble at the tomato soup and a turkey sandwich.

They both taste good, I guess, but I can’t focus on food right now.

My mind is spinning around social workers and Dave’s accusations and questions about whether Benson and Jack got all of Lou’s favorite outfits and toys from Dave’s place.

Oh, and then there’s the giant secret I accidentally spilled in the hospital room that’s now sitting between me, Tom, and Colin like a live grenade.

I set the food down on the coffee table next to me while Colin and Tom eat in silence.

“I visited a place like this once,” I finally say. Well, I whisper the words, really. Colin and Tom look up at me, glance at each other, and then look away. I realize this might be the first time they’ve ever heard me talk about my childhood in any kind of detail.

“It was right after my mom married Dave. He really was different then, before she got sick,” I add as Colin’s eyes narrow.

“He was really nice to me. Honestly, I loved having him as a stepdad. He went to all my soccer games and baseball games and my plays.” I shrug.

“Anyway, some friends of his rented this house in the Connecticut mountains. The leaves there aren’t as good as here,” I go on, and Tom nods in agreement, “but they’re still pretty.

” I smile. “They had two boys around my age. We ran all over that cabin and swam in some indoor pool that was part of the bigger property. We had scavenger hunts and made s’mores over a fire.

My mom played the guitar, and played every night we were there while everyone sat around the firepit and sang.

It was one of the best weekends of my life. ”

“It sounds absolutely lovely,” Tom says quietly.

“Yeah. It was.” I can hear my voice break.

“I don’t remember much about my father. He died when I was really young, and when my mom met Dave, I remember how excited I was that I finally had a new father.

I loved my mother, and we were always really close, but I liked it when it wasn’t just the two of us anymore.

” I sigh. “For a while, things were really good. Lou was born, and I thought things would get even better. But then she got sick. And in one sentence from a doctor, everything changed. Dave changed. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, I get so mad at her for getting sick. And I hate that I ever, ever feel that way.” I bury my face in my hands.

“Oh, little fox.” Colin’s fingers brush their way across my good ankle, and I sigh.

“I kept thinking,” I whisper, “that the Dave I remembered from back then would just show up again. Like someone could just push a button and that would erase all the years he’s spent getting so angry and hateful. I’m such an idiot.”

And then I let myself cry, tears spilling down my cheeks as Tom whispers soothing words and Colin keeps rubbing my uninjured ankle gently.

“You’re most certainly not an idiot, Gabe,” Tom finally says.

“You’re a true gift to the world, little fox.

You see light in places where other people only see darkness.

You have hope in a world filled with despair.

” He gently brushes a tear from one of my cheeks.

“You’ve had every single reason to have given up on the world, on people, the way it sounds like Dave has given up on so much.

But you’ve never let yourself do that. You’re so very special. ”

“You really fucking are,” Colin agrees, and I feel more tears rise to the corners of my eyes.

Tom sighs. “Not to mention, Gabe, that you see things in people others don’t.

” He laughs, but the sound is hollow in my ears.

“Colin, I’ve been in love with you since I first knew what love was.

You are love, for me. Every time I look at you, I see my entire world.

I can’t imagine my life without you. But somehow, no one’s ever noticed that before.

And I can’t blame you for missing any of this, bestie—I hid that love from you with every single tool I had at my disposal.

” He looks back over at me. “But you, Gabe. You saw it all. You saw into my soul.”

Colin sucks in a long breath then. He looks over at me, and for the first time, I understand: I understand how he holds those silent conversations with Tom. Because right now Colin’s only looking at me, but it’s like he’s loudly shouting at me into the large space of this room.

I’m going to tell him how I feel. Are you okay with that?

I know exactly how to answer him, and I don’t have to say a word.

Yes.

Colin sits up and takes a few steps, until he’s standing in front of Tom. He sinks slowly to his knees and takes one of Tom’s hands in his.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet since we left the hospital. But you know I’m not great with feelings. It takes me a minute to think through them before I can say them out loud.”

Tom scoffs. “A minute? Try eighty-four years, sometimes.”

Colin grins. “Fair enough. Listen Tom. I spent years thinking I just didn’t love like other people did,” he says.

“But I’ve never been able to imagine my life without you.

Now I wonder. Maybe it’s not that I was ever wired to love differently than other people.

Maybe it’s that I was always wired to love some very, very specific people.

” And then he leans over… and Tom doesn’t lean away.

Colin presses his lips to Tom’s, and my heart fills with hope. Hope for them, and for the future they deserve to have together.

And just a little pinch of hope that maybe, against all odds, I’ll get to have that future with them.